Lashings of schmoop: Ficlets (Xander/Cordelia)
So very cheered by others joining the schmoop_bingo train. May you all get irresistible bunnies that breed other bunnies until you do the full 25-prompt blackout. Then we can collectively lie in a darkened room for a while and perhaps write some post-Apocalypse character deaths to cleanse our palates.
So, three more prompts for my bingo card. I'm posting them together as they deal with the same couple, but these aren't a single story. They don't quite flow together, and they aren't really designed to; not least because they cover a whole decade in three brief episodes. You might also like to note that though I'm using the Rulesverse as the setting for this, I'm not sure that all the pairings for the bingos will become part of the long-term Rulesverse canon; otherwise it gets a little too pat with the coupling up. I *think* this relationship makes the cut, but some may end up being AU-AU... And yes, I promise I'll come back with some Cordy backstory when all my bingoing's done.
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Taking Steps
Rating PG13
Pairing/characters Xander/Cordelia
Word Count 547
Prompt Back rub
Setting February 2010
Note: for schmoop_bingo. All my responses for this challenge are set in the Rulesverse, a post-Chosen AU in which the Slayer Council develops into a fully rounded organisation
“I am so tired, so very, very tired, of spreadsheets. Just... no more. I’m done.” Cordelia shifted her beautifully-coiffed head on an evidently stiff neck, and pulled away from the control room desk.
Xander laughed at her. “But it’s money. You love money.” He reflected how like Anya that sounded. Was that his thing? He considered it anxiously. He tried to forget she was now part-demon, which was also part of the Xander Harris greatest girlfriend hits.
But that had been years ago, the Thing between them. It didn’t count now.
“Year-end getting you down?” He didn’t know what year-end was, but it sounded painfully financial. He was prepared to sympathise.
Well, he’d managed to cheer her up, at least. She still loved to correct him. “You kidding? I’m not some small-time accountant with year-end issues! I manage our finances. It’s fantastic! We’re so rich!”
No, he still didn’t understand what she did. Cordelia Chase, though, evidently did. Her Council role was scary. (Or it scared him.) It was partly the numbers (never a Harris specialty), but also the sleek, prosperous, efficient look of Investment Manager Cordy. Ten years since he’d really known her, and even then, he’d been a haze of teen lust instead of his current insightful, clear-eyed view of an important colleague. She seemed almost like a stranger.
(She still had gorgeous breasts. Long, long ago, he’d known them well.
But he was above all that. He was celibate. Years of bad dating equals no more with the sex for Xander.
He wept, internally.)
He did, though, know what was due from one sexless colleague to another with Computer Neck. “Want a back rub?”
Casual offer. He’d done it for Faith, and not raised any eyebrows. He’d done it for Kennedy, and not lost any teeth. He was a master of the non-suggestive rubbing.
Except that when Cordelia rolled her ergonomic chair in his direction, and he stood to his task, something made him say (with only a smattering of truth) that he couldn’t reach her over the backrest, and they should move to the breakout area. She collapsed on the rug in front of an armchair, and leaned back against his knees when he sat.
He started to dig thumbs into that soft, sore spot under the shoulder blades. Not too much, not yet. No need to go all Swedish massage from the outset.
Mindlessly physical, this touching. She was clearly tired, not talking - not like Cordy of old. So he could think about the touching. Her back, soft and warm against his shins. The neck, curving and soft, a few fine hairs clinging to her skin. They had escaped the cutting of her hair, so much shorter than her teenage hanks, which he’d loved to wind round his hands while they kissed. It suited her, though, in her new persona.
She grew up well, this funny, strong woman with the scary money sense. Who lost years to demon possession and coma, then worked determinedly through rehab, and took a deserved two weeks R&R in Mexico. Then... walked into a Council meeting to tell them that they needed a financial manager or they’d go broke in twenty years, and that they were wasting her talents just working on the visions when they came.
Xander would always be glad he’d been in on that one. She had been stunning. He’d loved the sheer balls and spectacle of the move. Her sunny confidence that she alone would suit the role, coma or no coma. She’d been fun ever since, undercutting the mystical overtones of the Council’s business, and able to needle Wesley better than anyone, even at thousands of miles distant. It was good to have Cordelia back.
She wriggled a little, settling more comfortably. Warm skin, with thin cloth separating them. Xander paused a moment, to ignore his better sense, then leant forward to kiss the back of her neck. Inappropriate, sure, but he was so damn happy she was still with them. With him, now.
She turned to meet him, laughing and pleased. “God! It took you long enough. Do I look like a woman with backache?”
Cordelia Chase still kissed like a champ. Xander could almost feel the confines of the school closet closing round them. But they weren’t seventeen any more, and no one was going to make them stop.
*
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Agrodolce
Rating PG13
Pairing/characters Xander/Cordelia
Word Count 825
Prompt Cuddling by the fire
Setting February 2014
Note: for schmoop_bingo. All my responses for this challenge are set in the Rulesverse, a post-Chosen AU in which the Slayer Council develops into a fully rounded organisation
Xander blew in from Oran on a foggy night in February. The Scottish Highlands were unwelcoming, the drive had taken an extra three hours, and he wanted to debrief, stat. Then shower, steaming hot, sleep for a week and finally take off for Geneva.
Except, as he stood inside the castle door, frozen and in need of hygiene products, he discovered that he wouldn’t need to ship out to Switzerland for a while. Geneva had come to him.
Cordelia Chase had been waiting a while. Xander could tell, because her shoes were off. That, and the nearly-finished book on the side table beside her couch. Also, the three well-thumbed magazines under the book. The two mugs and one wineglass on said side table (which was looking under some strain). The rug thrown over herself and her, doubtless couture, clothing - definitely not a Chase accessory of choice, but the castle’s main hall defied draught-proofing and central heating. Plus, the fact she was asleep was a clue.
Someone not attuned to Cordelia’s every breath might, in fact, have walked right past her without spotting the human being amid the heap of debris. Not Xander.
He blew gently on her face to wake her; a happy technique he’d developed recently. She shifted, smiling. Without opening her eyes, “Hello handsome. Missed you.”
“You too.” He had. Really very much. “You look snug here. Mind if I join?”
She shuffled over just enough to let him slip onto the couch behind her. “I need a shower.” Great, Xander. Great with the romance. Cordelia mumbled, disagreeing or complaining, but half-heartedly. She slipped one of his arms over her, so they were warmly cuddled close. He could just spy the fire over the top of her head (his good eye being uppermost. Accommodating woman, in her sleepy state.)
It was wonderful. It was enough. It had been enough before.
He didn’t want to say this tonight. But three hours of driving had been enough to come to a decision. He’d just thought he had more time to prepare.
“Cordy... what are we doing?”
Snuggling, she could say. Had said similar things in the past when he tried to broach this.
But perhaps she’d come to a decision like his. For sure, she sounded clearer than a recently-woken woman should. “We’re in a holding pattern. Aren’t we? You in Algeria or Scotland, me in Switzerland or New York. We make time to see each other, but it’s always on our own terms.”
“Yes.” He didn’t know what else to say; conflicted by her clarity. Comforting that she saw the same. Painful to find they really were as far apart as it seemed. Xander stared into the fire, waiting for her response.
“You want to change that.” Always direct, that was Cordy.
“...Yes. I want more.” Even as he said it, Xander knew he could have put it better.
“More. Yeah. That’s the problem.” Cordelia sounded hollow. Feel the raw nerve fizzing with pain as he strayed even a fraction in that direction.
Time for greater caution; he made a doomed attempt at delicacy. “If I promise never to use the c-word...” Oops. Bad word, Xander. They were both laughing, suddenly, brittle but true. He started again. “Make that the k-word. Or the b-word. Any of the words that...”
“Mean having children.” She said it very flatly. He thought she had run out of tears on this one, somewhere along the way. One mystical pregnancy might be bearable. Two... no one should face that.
He remembered yet again the night when he’d first tried to talk about it with her. Which ended when she screamed out, “You’ve no idea what it’s like. To be taken over like that. To be ripped open. I killed a girl to get it out of me. I... think that wasn’t just Jasmine; I know I wanted her out so bad I’d have done...” He’d had to put her to bed, after, exhausted with fury and retching pain. So un-Cordelia in her total disarray; he’d been scared she would never come back.
So, no. Not an option.
Xander’s quiet personal dream of a small human with dark hair and easily-tanned skin, a huge smile and a way with woodwork... well, it was just a dream. Insubstantial compared with Cordelia.
He tightened his embracing arm. “Yeah. Well, the Slayers are breeding like bunnies. We’re not short of diapers and screaming. I’m way short of you in my bed every night. Let’s do it.”
Cordelia reached for her necklace, and fished the dangling pendant out of her soft, warm... pay attention, Harris. This part is important. He unhooked the necklace clasp, and slipped the ring free. One Tiffany diamond solitaire, 2 carat, D-grade, flawless, platinum setting, size O as ordered. He’d been committed, really, from the moment his credit card took that large, painful hit four months ago. She’d been committed from the moment she gave him the specs. Yet this moment mattered.
He slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand, and kissed the digit when the solitaire was firmly in place. She drew a shaky breath and met his eye when he finally raised his face from her hand. Her hand with his diamond ring on it.
“We’re really going to do this.” They said it together. It felt like a good start.
*
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Two Steps Forward...
Rating PG13
Pairing/characters Cordelia/Xander
Word Count 1075
Prompt fire in the fireplace
Setting November 2019
Note: for schmoop_bingo. All my responses for this challenge are set in the Rulesverse, a post-Chosen AU in which the Slayer Council develops into a fully rounded organisation
Xander spent much of the post-Sunnydale years in north Africa. Really, a lot. He got back to headquarters sometimes, but not with regularity. He spent some time in L.A. early on, while they thrashed out the SSO training for the non-magical/superpowered/demonic candidates (the ultra-flattering ‘average Joe’ gig). Now he’s all married and settled, he rotates in and out of the Casablanca-Oran-Tripoli-Alexandria regional HQs three months on, three off. The off months, he’s with Cordelia, wherever she may be. New York, Geneva, Hong Kong, Johannesberg, Melbourne. Big cities all, seen through the prism of international high finance meetings, hugely expensive clothes, and Cordy laughing in restaurants over whatever’s hottest in the local cuisine. Happy memories, though a hell of a lot more urban and high-maintenance than Xander’s own style.
The reason he’s thinking about this is that a very important conversation is happening to him again, and there is an open fire in the grate. Again. You would think that by the law of averages, most of his important conversations should happen in street markets, coffee shops or while waiting for Cordy to try on clothes.
But he’s just back off rotation to find they are homeless in Geneva, temporarily, and Cordelia has been loaned a mountain chalet while the decorators do their worst. They haven’t skied. From the look on Cordy’s face, they aren’t going to. There is a crackling fire, but the atmosphere isn’t cosy.
Xander was hoping to eat pretty much when he arrived, but it’s been half an hour and there’s no food. He’s no longer hungry anyway. Cordelia is pacing, twitching, ill at ease in her skin in a way she simply never is. His gut is full of acid, bubbling in anticipation of worse.
Assuming she ever spits out whatever it is she’s trying to say. Though he’s really hoping she won’t.
He’s always been outclassed in this marriage. He knows that. In the fancy restaurants and the exclusive boutiques that Cordy loves, the staff tend to look through him. If they see him at all, they get a glazed, distant look, hoping that someone will soon remove this aberration from their presence. He thought Cordy was okay with that; they’ve laughed it out often enough, and if she’s feeling the Quuen C vibe she’s more than capable of calling Mr or Ms Snooty on their attitude. She always wins. He loves it that she spends at least 90% more effort telling others off on his behalf than she does trying to get him to smarten up.
It’s not easy that they spend so much time apart. He knows that; feels it harshly himself when they part. Maybe she’s finally tired of losing him to Tunisia or Sudan for so much of the year? But he thought she was okay with that too; understood where his dedication to the job came from, though she could have supported him for a decade on just her annual bonus.
But perhaps it’s become too much, in the end. He doesn’t want to hear her say they’re done. He wants to fight; it’s worth the effort, their marriage. But he’ll hear her out first. He’s got good at listening, being an average Joe among superheroes.
“Xander.” She stops. But this time she goes on. “I’m thirty-eight years old.”
He nods. But he’s already confused. This is not the opening he expected.
“I’m a competent, in-control woman. Right?”
He nods again. Indeed she is. Is she leaving him for independence and a competent in-control relationship with a vibrator? It certainly doesn’t sound like an ‘I’ve met someone else’ lead in.
“When I make mistakes, I face them. I step up. I fix things.”
Nod, nod. Where is this going? Is their marriage the mistake? Is she fixing him?
She takes a very long breath. This is it. He looks at her, glowing fire at her back, gilding her hair and skin. God, he’ll miss her so much.
“I didn’t face this one. And now it’s too late. I went to the doctor-”
Oh, god no. He hadn’t thought she could be ill. Xander breaks in on the monologue, “You’re sick? But you’re gonna be okay?”
She holds herself rigid. “No. And... I don’t know. I went to the doctor last week, and he said I’m pregnant.”
Later, Xander is surprised and relieved beyond measure that he never, ever thought to ask whose the child was. Even though he’d been gone since November.
“Four and a half months pregnant.”
He is trying to say something appropriate (though he doesn’t know what that would be), trying not to swear, trying to say sorry because in no way does she sound happy, and it all gets so tangled that he ends up not saying anything. Just gaping at her, with his brain trying to process that one word ‘pregnant’, while she talks on.
“I can’t believe it. I have been so careful. Like extra paranoid-careful. You’d think I’d at least have noticed some parasite crawling inside me and setting up home. Not given it life for twenty weeks before I even spotted it.”
She sounds angry, trapped, embarrassed. Parasite. Ouch.
He finally manages to say, “Twenty weeks. That’s too late to...?” Because he’s always known that’s what she would choose, if it came to it, even if he can't say it aloud. Which is why they have been so exaggeratedly, deludedly careful.
She is shrugging. “Not quite, legally, but way too late for me. Turns out, it’s a thing. I asked if they could tell if it was healthy. Not like I’ve been taking care of it. So they did some tests and a scan and... Well, it’s a baby. I saw it. Not a demon. Just a baby.”
It’s been a while since Xander took a breath. He’s starting to feel like he might not manage another. Just for a second, Cordy’s back. “Hey. Breathe! Xander, it’s okay.”
But he’s not a teen any more. So he says, “Is it? Really?”
She looks away into the flames, dancing reflections multiplying in her teary eyes. “I’m so scared. And so angry with myself for not even seeing this happening. But, you know, it’s just a baby. Not a demon, not a god. Nobody’s going to sacrifice a virgin for this one’s birth, right?”
His arms are round her, now feeling her slightly changed body against him. She’s made a tiny joke about the worst thing in her life. It’s a huge moment. “Nope. Way too much effort. We just need to pick a country with obstetricians you can terrify, and we’ll be set.”
Months to go. Who knows how much more difficult emotion and agonising memories to work through.
But she’s called it a baby. It’s a start.
***
So, three more prompts for my bingo card. I'm posting them together as they deal with the same couple, but these aren't a single story. They don't quite flow together, and they aren't really designed to; not least because they cover a whole decade in three brief episodes. You might also like to note that though I'm using the Rulesverse as the setting for this, I'm not sure that all the pairings for the bingos will become part of the long-term Rulesverse canon; otherwise it gets a little too pat with the coupling up. I *think* this relationship makes the cut, but some may end up being AU-AU... And yes, I promise I'll come back with some Cordy backstory when all my bingoing's done.
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Taking Steps
Rating PG13
Pairing/characters Xander/Cordelia
Word Count 547
Prompt Back rub
Setting February 2010
Note: for schmoop_bingo. All my responses for this challenge are set in the Rulesverse, a post-Chosen AU in which the Slayer Council develops into a fully rounded organisation
“I am so tired, so very, very tired, of spreadsheets. Just... no more. I’m done.” Cordelia shifted her beautifully-coiffed head on an evidently stiff neck, and pulled away from the control room desk.
Xander laughed at her. “But it’s money. You love money.” He reflected how like Anya that sounded. Was that his thing? He considered it anxiously. He tried to forget she was now part-demon, which was also part of the Xander Harris greatest girlfriend hits.
But that had been years ago, the Thing between them. It didn’t count now.
“Year-end getting you down?” He didn’t know what year-end was, but it sounded painfully financial. He was prepared to sympathise.
Well, he’d managed to cheer her up, at least. She still loved to correct him. “You kidding? I’m not some small-time accountant with year-end issues! I manage our finances. It’s fantastic! We’re so rich!”
No, he still didn’t understand what she did. Cordelia Chase, though, evidently did. Her Council role was scary. (Or it scared him.) It was partly the numbers (never a Harris specialty), but also the sleek, prosperous, efficient look of Investment Manager Cordy. Ten years since he’d really known her, and even then, he’d been a haze of teen lust instead of his current insightful, clear-eyed view of an important colleague. She seemed almost like a stranger.
(She still had gorgeous breasts. Long, long ago, he’d known them well.
But he was above all that. He was celibate. Years of bad dating equals no more with the sex for Xander.
He wept, internally.)
He did, though, know what was due from one sexless colleague to another with Computer Neck. “Want a back rub?”
Casual offer. He’d done it for Faith, and not raised any eyebrows. He’d done it for Kennedy, and not lost any teeth. He was a master of the non-suggestive rubbing.
Except that when Cordelia rolled her ergonomic chair in his direction, and he stood to his task, something made him say (with only a smattering of truth) that he couldn’t reach her over the backrest, and they should move to the breakout area. She collapsed on the rug in front of an armchair, and leaned back against his knees when he sat.
He started to dig thumbs into that soft, sore spot under the shoulder blades. Not too much, not yet. No need to go all Swedish massage from the outset.
Mindlessly physical, this touching. She was clearly tired, not talking - not like Cordy of old. So he could think about the touching. Her back, soft and warm against his shins. The neck, curving and soft, a few fine hairs clinging to her skin. They had escaped the cutting of her hair, so much shorter than her teenage hanks, which he’d loved to wind round his hands while they kissed. It suited her, though, in her new persona.
She grew up well, this funny, strong woman with the scary money sense. Who lost years to demon possession and coma, then worked determinedly through rehab, and took a deserved two weeks R&R in Mexico. Then... walked into a Council meeting to tell them that they needed a financial manager or they’d go broke in twenty years, and that they were wasting her talents just working on the visions when they came.
Xander would always be glad he’d been in on that one. She had been stunning. He’d loved the sheer balls and spectacle of the move. Her sunny confidence that she alone would suit the role, coma or no coma. She’d been fun ever since, undercutting the mystical overtones of the Council’s business, and able to needle Wesley better than anyone, even at thousands of miles distant. It was good to have Cordelia back.
She wriggled a little, settling more comfortably. Warm skin, with thin cloth separating them. Xander paused a moment, to ignore his better sense, then leant forward to kiss the back of her neck. Inappropriate, sure, but he was so damn happy she was still with them. With him, now.
She turned to meet him, laughing and pleased. “God! It took you long enough. Do I look like a woman with backache?”
Cordelia Chase still kissed like a champ. Xander could almost feel the confines of the school closet closing round them. But they weren’t seventeen any more, and no one was going to make them stop.
*
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Agrodolce
Rating PG13
Pairing/characters Xander/Cordelia
Word Count 825
Prompt Cuddling by the fire
Setting February 2014
Note: for schmoop_bingo. All my responses for this challenge are set in the Rulesverse, a post-Chosen AU in which the Slayer Council develops into a fully rounded organisation
Xander blew in from Oran on a foggy night in February. The Scottish Highlands were unwelcoming, the drive had taken an extra three hours, and he wanted to debrief, stat. Then shower, steaming hot, sleep for a week and finally take off for Geneva.
Except, as he stood inside the castle door, frozen and in need of hygiene products, he discovered that he wouldn’t need to ship out to Switzerland for a while. Geneva had come to him.
Cordelia Chase had been waiting a while. Xander could tell, because her shoes were off. That, and the nearly-finished book on the side table beside her couch. Also, the three well-thumbed magazines under the book. The two mugs and one wineglass on said side table (which was looking under some strain). The rug thrown over herself and her, doubtless couture, clothing - definitely not a Chase accessory of choice, but the castle’s main hall defied draught-proofing and central heating. Plus, the fact she was asleep was a clue.
Someone not attuned to Cordelia’s every breath might, in fact, have walked right past her without spotting the human being amid the heap of debris. Not Xander.
He blew gently on her face to wake her; a happy technique he’d developed recently. She shifted, smiling. Without opening her eyes, “Hello handsome. Missed you.”
“You too.” He had. Really very much. “You look snug here. Mind if I join?”
She shuffled over just enough to let him slip onto the couch behind her. “I need a shower.” Great, Xander. Great with the romance. Cordelia mumbled, disagreeing or complaining, but half-heartedly. She slipped one of his arms over her, so they were warmly cuddled close. He could just spy the fire over the top of her head (his good eye being uppermost. Accommodating woman, in her sleepy state.)
It was wonderful. It was enough. It had been enough before.
He didn’t want to say this tonight. But three hours of driving had been enough to come to a decision. He’d just thought he had more time to prepare.
“Cordy... what are we doing?”
Snuggling, she could say. Had said similar things in the past when he tried to broach this.
But perhaps she’d come to a decision like his. For sure, she sounded clearer than a recently-woken woman should. “We’re in a holding pattern. Aren’t we? You in Algeria or Scotland, me in Switzerland or New York. We make time to see each other, but it’s always on our own terms.”
“Yes.” He didn’t know what else to say; conflicted by her clarity. Comforting that she saw the same. Painful to find they really were as far apart as it seemed. Xander stared into the fire, waiting for her response.
“You want to change that.” Always direct, that was Cordy.
“...Yes. I want more.” Even as he said it, Xander knew he could have put it better.
“More. Yeah. That’s the problem.” Cordelia sounded hollow. Feel the raw nerve fizzing with pain as he strayed even a fraction in that direction.
Time for greater caution; he made a doomed attempt at delicacy. “If I promise never to use the c-word...” Oops. Bad word, Xander. They were both laughing, suddenly, brittle but true. He started again. “Make that the k-word. Or the b-word. Any of the words that...”
“Mean having children.” She said it very flatly. He thought she had run out of tears on this one, somewhere along the way. One mystical pregnancy might be bearable. Two... no one should face that.
He remembered yet again the night when he’d first tried to talk about it with her. Which ended when she screamed out, “You’ve no idea what it’s like. To be taken over like that. To be ripped open. I killed a girl to get it out of me. I... think that wasn’t just Jasmine; I know I wanted her out so bad I’d have done...” He’d had to put her to bed, after, exhausted with fury and retching pain. So un-Cordelia in her total disarray; he’d been scared she would never come back.
So, no. Not an option.
Xander’s quiet personal dream of a small human with dark hair and easily-tanned skin, a huge smile and a way with woodwork... well, it was just a dream. Insubstantial compared with Cordelia.
He tightened his embracing arm. “Yeah. Well, the Slayers are breeding like bunnies. We’re not short of diapers and screaming. I’m way short of you in my bed every night. Let’s do it.”
Cordelia reached for her necklace, and fished the dangling pendant out of her soft, warm... pay attention, Harris. This part is important. He unhooked the necklace clasp, and slipped the ring free. One Tiffany diamond solitaire, 2 carat, D-grade, flawless, platinum setting, size O as ordered. He’d been committed, really, from the moment his credit card took that large, painful hit four months ago. She’d been committed from the moment she gave him the specs. Yet this moment mattered.
He slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand, and kissed the digit when the solitaire was firmly in place. She drew a shaky breath and met his eye when he finally raised his face from her hand. Her hand with his diamond ring on it.
“We’re really going to do this.” They said it together. It felt like a good start.
*
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Two Steps Forward...
Rating PG13
Pairing/characters Cordelia/Xander
Word Count 1075
Prompt fire in the fireplace
Setting November 2019
Note: for schmoop_bingo. All my responses for this challenge are set in the Rulesverse, a post-Chosen AU in which the Slayer Council develops into a fully rounded organisation
Xander spent much of the post-Sunnydale years in north Africa. Really, a lot. He got back to headquarters sometimes, but not with regularity. He spent some time in L.A. early on, while they thrashed out the SSO training for the non-magical/superpowered/demonic candidates (the ultra-flattering ‘average Joe’ gig). Now he’s all married and settled, he rotates in and out of the Casablanca-Oran-Tripoli-Alexandria regional HQs three months on, three off. The off months, he’s with Cordelia, wherever she may be. New York, Geneva, Hong Kong, Johannesberg, Melbourne. Big cities all, seen through the prism of international high finance meetings, hugely expensive clothes, and Cordy laughing in restaurants over whatever’s hottest in the local cuisine. Happy memories, though a hell of a lot more urban and high-maintenance than Xander’s own style.
The reason he’s thinking about this is that a very important conversation is happening to him again, and there is an open fire in the grate. Again. You would think that by the law of averages, most of his important conversations should happen in street markets, coffee shops or while waiting for Cordy to try on clothes.
But he’s just back off rotation to find they are homeless in Geneva, temporarily, and Cordelia has been loaned a mountain chalet while the decorators do their worst. They haven’t skied. From the look on Cordy’s face, they aren’t going to. There is a crackling fire, but the atmosphere isn’t cosy.
Xander was hoping to eat pretty much when he arrived, but it’s been half an hour and there’s no food. He’s no longer hungry anyway. Cordelia is pacing, twitching, ill at ease in her skin in a way she simply never is. His gut is full of acid, bubbling in anticipation of worse.
Assuming she ever spits out whatever it is she’s trying to say. Though he’s really hoping she won’t.
He’s always been outclassed in this marriage. He knows that. In the fancy restaurants and the exclusive boutiques that Cordy loves, the staff tend to look through him. If they see him at all, they get a glazed, distant look, hoping that someone will soon remove this aberration from their presence. He thought Cordy was okay with that; they’ve laughed it out often enough, and if she’s feeling the Quuen C vibe she’s more than capable of calling Mr or Ms Snooty on their attitude. She always wins. He loves it that she spends at least 90% more effort telling others off on his behalf than she does trying to get him to smarten up.
It’s not easy that they spend so much time apart. He knows that; feels it harshly himself when they part. Maybe she’s finally tired of losing him to Tunisia or Sudan for so much of the year? But he thought she was okay with that too; understood where his dedication to the job came from, though she could have supported him for a decade on just her annual bonus.
But perhaps it’s become too much, in the end. He doesn’t want to hear her say they’re done. He wants to fight; it’s worth the effort, their marriage. But he’ll hear her out first. He’s got good at listening, being an average Joe among superheroes.
“Xander.” She stops. But this time she goes on. “I’m thirty-eight years old.”
He nods. But he’s already confused. This is not the opening he expected.
“I’m a competent, in-control woman. Right?”
He nods again. Indeed she is. Is she leaving him for independence and a competent in-control relationship with a vibrator? It certainly doesn’t sound like an ‘I’ve met someone else’ lead in.
“When I make mistakes, I face them. I step up. I fix things.”
Nod, nod. Where is this going? Is their marriage the mistake? Is she fixing him?
She takes a very long breath. This is it. He looks at her, glowing fire at her back, gilding her hair and skin. God, he’ll miss her so much.
“I didn’t face this one. And now it’s too late. I went to the doctor-”
Oh, god no. He hadn’t thought she could be ill. Xander breaks in on the monologue, “You’re sick? But you’re gonna be okay?”
She holds herself rigid. “No. And... I don’t know. I went to the doctor last week, and he said I’m pregnant.”
Later, Xander is surprised and relieved beyond measure that he never, ever thought to ask whose the child was. Even though he’d been gone since November.
“Four and a half months pregnant.”
He is trying to say something appropriate (though he doesn’t know what that would be), trying not to swear, trying to say sorry because in no way does she sound happy, and it all gets so tangled that he ends up not saying anything. Just gaping at her, with his brain trying to process that one word ‘pregnant’, while she talks on.
“I can’t believe it. I have been so careful. Like extra paranoid-careful. You’d think I’d at least have noticed some parasite crawling inside me and setting up home. Not given it life for twenty weeks before I even spotted it.”
She sounds angry, trapped, embarrassed. Parasite. Ouch.
He finally manages to say, “Twenty weeks. That’s too late to...?” Because he’s always known that’s what she would choose, if it came to it, even if he can't say it aloud. Which is why they have been so exaggeratedly, deludedly careful.
She is shrugging. “Not quite, legally, but way too late for me. Turns out, it’s a thing. I asked if they could tell if it was healthy. Not like I’ve been taking care of it. So they did some tests and a scan and... Well, it’s a baby. I saw it. Not a demon. Just a baby.”
It’s been a while since Xander took a breath. He’s starting to feel like he might not manage another. Just for a second, Cordy’s back. “Hey. Breathe! Xander, it’s okay.”
But he’s not a teen any more. So he says, “Is it? Really?”
She looks away into the flames, dancing reflections multiplying in her teary eyes. “I’m so scared. And so angry with myself for not even seeing this happening. But, you know, it’s just a baby. Not a demon, not a god. Nobody’s going to sacrifice a virgin for this one’s birth, right?”
His arms are round her, now feeling her slightly changed body against him. She’s made a tiny joke about the worst thing in her life. It’s a huge moment. “Nope. Way too much effort. We just need to pick a country with obstetricians you can terrify, and we’ll be set.”
Months to go. Who knows how much more difficult emotion and agonising memories to work through.
But she’s called it a baby. It’s a start.
***