Fic: The Two of Us
Everyone needs someone who cares when they die. Andrew/Warren. Andrew's POV.
Pairing: Andrew/Warren
Spoilers: Season Six
Disclaimers: Joss not me.
The Duo, Jonathan and Andrew had checked into a squalid motel, on
their way to Mexico. Later they would realize that they had been
lucky. This room at least had twin beds. For now they had surveyed
their surroundings with dismay. The murky brownish, streaked walls
made the minuscule room appear even smaller, giving a disturbingly
claustrophobic effect. There was no bathroom, and little furniture,
only the badly made beds and one ugly, unsteady table. Their money,
the little they'd had in their pockets when they'd left Sunnydale, was
nearly gone. They were hungry, in a stinking motel room with
uncomfortable beds, and the people they'd seen outside were more
frightening than any demon. It was hell. Andrew wasn't thinking about
any of this. He was thinking about Warren.
Andrew had loved Warren with the intensity of a cheesy romantic novel.
He'd wanted to be with Warren always and he was still processing the
realisation that Warren had had every intention of abandoning Andrew -
like everyone else. Andrew also knew in the small part of his mind
that could tell reality from fantasy that Warren was a killer, a
murderer. Despite this Andrew grieved for Warren. Perhaps he felt this
even more strongly because he knew that there was nobody else who
would or could miss Warren.
Warren had not always been like that. Andrew sat on the bed, knees up
to his chin and remembered the Warren that he'd known. The good things
about Warren filled his mind. A picture came before him of Warren
smiling as he explained a new weapon to them that they could use to
fight the Slayer. Another treasured memory was the discussion they'd
had about Babylon 5. They had both agreed that it made absolutely no
sense for Delenn to only become half human when Sinclair/Valen went
virtually completely Minbari. It disturbed the balance in the Force.
Jonathan had laughed when Andrew had said that and teased him for
mixing his universes. But then both Warren and Andrew had tackled
Jonathan, together.
Andrew decided that Sean Connery would be his favourite Bond from now
on. He wanted to tell Jonathan this, but Jonathan was asleep.
It had been the little touches that had counted. A pat on the shoulder
as Warren walked past, triumphant in his invulnerability. Warren's
hand caressing Andrew's face. Andrew thought he could feel that now,
tingling on the line of his jaw. This had occurred while Jonathan had
been on an undercover mission to buy more magical supplies without
being detected by the forces for good. Warren and Andrew had been
plotting against him for some time by then and had welcomed the
absence of his distrustful looks. On other occasions they had said
very little about what they would do after Jonathan was out of the
picture. This time Warren had turned to Andrew and said
"Just you and me, Andy. No girls. No Jonathan. Just you and me against
the world. We don't need anyone else." Then he had gently stroked
Andrew's cheek. Andrew's heart had beaten faster and he'd wanted this
to last for ever and there'd been so much more he'd wanted, and then
Jonathan had walked in and the moment had been lost.
All the things that had been said and all the things they should have
said and done jumbled together in Andrew's mind. He wanted Warren at
that second so painfully he shivered. Andrew retreated back to his
fantasy Warren. Warren had told Andrew he was the most important
person in Warren's life. Neither of them had mentioned love, but
Andrew had felt it with every glance and in every conversation. What
if he'd had the courage to kiss Warren once? He felt Warren's lips
warm on his own. Then nothing more than the clammy air of the room. If
only he could have made Warren happy. Would Warren then have tried to
kill the Slayer? In this new reality Warren would have rescued him
instead and they could have left town together. And Warren would be
there.
Andrew knew this wasn't true. He had an incredible capacity for
self-delusion - but not an infinite one. Warren had never loved him.
But it didn't matter. Warren being here with him now. He needed that.
But Warren was never coming back. That was all that was important.
Warren was dead.
However much Andrew had tried not to think it, that was what
everything came back to. Warren was gone forever. He was dead. Warren
would never quote Monty Python again, and it wasn't even funny any
more. Andrew collapsed off the bed, onto the floor, the side furthest
from Jonathan. Huddled in the tiny space between the bed and the wall
Andrew cried. Silent, heaving sobs that shook his entire thin frame.
And the only person who had cared what happened to Warren mourned his
death.
Edited because some of it was a bit purple-prosy.
Pairing: Andrew/Warren
Spoilers: Season Six
Disclaimers: Joss not me.
The Duo, Jonathan and Andrew had checked into a squalid motel, on
their way to Mexico. Later they would realize that they had been
lucky. This room at least had twin beds. For now they had surveyed
their surroundings with dismay. The murky brownish, streaked walls
made the minuscule room appear even smaller, giving a disturbingly
claustrophobic effect. There was no bathroom, and little furniture,
only the badly made beds and one ugly, unsteady table. Their money,
the little they'd had in their pockets when they'd left Sunnydale, was
nearly gone. They were hungry, in a stinking motel room with
uncomfortable beds, and the people they'd seen outside were more
frightening than any demon. It was hell. Andrew wasn't thinking about
any of this. He was thinking about Warren.
Andrew had loved Warren with the intensity of a cheesy romantic novel.
He'd wanted to be with Warren always and he was still processing the
realisation that Warren had had every intention of abandoning Andrew -
like everyone else. Andrew also knew in the small part of his mind
that could tell reality from fantasy that Warren was a killer, a
murderer. Despite this Andrew grieved for Warren. Perhaps he felt this
even more strongly because he knew that there was nobody else who
would or could miss Warren.
Warren had not always been like that. Andrew sat on the bed, knees up
to his chin and remembered the Warren that he'd known. The good things
about Warren filled his mind. A picture came before him of Warren
smiling as he explained a new weapon to them that they could use to
fight the Slayer. Another treasured memory was the discussion they'd
had about Babylon 5. They had both agreed that it made absolutely no
sense for Delenn to only become half human when Sinclair/Valen went
virtually completely Minbari. It disturbed the balance in the Force.
Jonathan had laughed when Andrew had said that and teased him for
mixing his universes. But then both Warren and Andrew had tackled
Jonathan, together.
Andrew decided that Sean Connery would be his favourite Bond from now
on. He wanted to tell Jonathan this, but Jonathan was asleep.
It had been the little touches that had counted. A pat on the shoulder
as Warren walked past, triumphant in his invulnerability. Warren's
hand caressing Andrew's face. Andrew thought he could feel that now,
tingling on the line of his jaw. This had occurred while Jonathan had
been on an undercover mission to buy more magical supplies without
being detected by the forces for good. Warren and Andrew had been
plotting against him for some time by then and had welcomed the
absence of his distrustful looks. On other occasions they had said
very little about what they would do after Jonathan was out of the
picture. This time Warren had turned to Andrew and said
"Just you and me, Andy. No girls. No Jonathan. Just you and me against
the world. We don't need anyone else." Then he had gently stroked
Andrew's cheek. Andrew's heart had beaten faster and he'd wanted this
to last for ever and there'd been so much more he'd wanted, and then
Jonathan had walked in and the moment had been lost.
All the things that had been said and all the things they should have
said and done jumbled together in Andrew's mind. He wanted Warren at
that second so painfully he shivered. Andrew retreated back to his
fantasy Warren. Warren had told Andrew he was the most important
person in Warren's life. Neither of them had mentioned love, but
Andrew had felt it with every glance and in every conversation. What
if he'd had the courage to kiss Warren once? He felt Warren's lips
warm on his own. Then nothing more than the clammy air of the room. If
only he could have made Warren happy. Would Warren then have tried to
kill the Slayer? In this new reality Warren would have rescued him
instead and they could have left town together. And Warren would be
there.
Andrew knew this wasn't true. He had an incredible capacity for
self-delusion - but not an infinite one. Warren had never loved him.
But it didn't matter. Warren being here with him now. He needed that.
But Warren was never coming back. That was all that was important.
Warren was dead.
However much Andrew had tried not to think it, that was what
everything came back to. Warren was gone forever. He was dead. Warren
would never quote Monty Python again, and it wasn't even funny any
more. Andrew collapsed off the bed, onto the floor, the side furthest
from Jonathan. Huddled in the tiny space between the bed and the wall
Andrew cried. Silent, heaving sobs that shook his entire thin frame.
And the only person who had cared what happened to Warren mourned his
death.
Edited because some of it was a bit purple-prosy.