Neighbors, Ch. 1: Brown Eyed Boy
Neighbors
Ch. 1, Brown Eyed Boy
Pairing: Xander/Larry
Rating: PG, this chapter
Summary: Now that Xander is finally set in the way things are, a man he thought was dead comes back into his life, singing and dancing. Slash, post-Chosen, slight-AU.
Beta: _finn_
Words: 3834
“What kind of place doesn't have chairs?” Xander asked over the blaringly loud power-pop chunking from the speakers, the three teenagers on stage standing stiff as they labored through their set. The three girls he'd been tasked to watch over for the night patently ignored him, not that he'd expected an answer. Just making conversation, or trying to at least.
They had only been at the club for less than half an hour, but Xander's feet were already beginning to ache from some sort of psychosomatic desire to get the heck out of there. He shifted from foot to foot, doing his best not to rub against any of the other kids that filled the place. He'd never felt so old in his life, and he was still barely in his mid-twenties. The girls took turns rocking back and forth to the music, and turning to gleefully shout comments about the boys, and girl, on stage.
The song ended on a long shrill sour note and, much to Xander's relief, so did their set. The singer-bassist thanked them for watching their set-- just the slightest hint of teenage desperation in his shout-graveled voice-- then they quickly began to dismantle their equipment, hip-hop coming up over the speakers to fill the void.
Xander laughed, “And no MC, either! They just,” he waved his hand at the stage, “set up, play, and get off. Where's the show in that?” He turned, a half-smile on his face, to see the girls were already filing out the door with the rest of the crowd.
Demons he could handle. Teenage girls, he still could not.
With a sigh he followed them out to the front street, relishing in the sudden burst of fresh night air, yin to the stale air inside the small club's yang. He swallowed the coolness in gulps.
Deandre, the youngest of the group at fifteen and by far the most talkative, was prattling on about the show as Xander approached. “They were soooo good. I want to have their babies.” Xander quirked an eyebrow at this.
“They sucked.” Jill, always the direct one. Even the overstylized cartoon character on the back of her shirt reflected the stoic look usually etched on her face.
Deandre shook her head with a smarmy smirk. Grace jumped in, almost literally, “Go to hell, Jill! Seriously, why did you even come?”
Jill shrugged. “Better than staying in all night.”
“It's just 'cause you like Xaaaander,” Deandre chidded, pointing a playful eye over Jill's shoulder at the man in question. Xander took half a step back, his hands up defensively. Jill turned around quickly, stared at him in muted horror, then turned back to Deandre.
“Fuck you!”
“Whoa!” Xander grabbed Jill's arm as she brought her fist back, ready to strike. “Okay, time out! One band and five minutes in, and I've already got to break up a fight? Seriously, ladies.” He glanced down at the red-faced Jill, and playfully winked. “There's no need to fight over the Xan Man.”
Grace made a disgusted face and Deandre chuckled. Jill, though, was not so amused. She shook off Xander's arm and stormed away in a huff, quickly coming to a full run. The teenaged crowd behind them watched on, enthralled in the drama.
“Jill!” Xander called. He took a step forward before casting a glare down at the other two girls. “You two. Inside. Now. Don't come out for anything less than the apocalypse.”
He began to run after the much quicker teen, shouting back over his shoulder. “I'm serious!”
Ten minutes, four blocks, and an alleyway later Xander finally came across Jill, huddled beside a trash can. “You should be careful. I hear the weirdos come out at night.” Xander said.
“I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. I even wear grown-up pants.”
Xander nodded and slid down next to her. “You know, what those girls--”
“I'm a lesbian.”
“And now I'm caught off guard.”
Jill sighed and looked at Xander, stiff resolution set in her jaw. “I've never told anyone, but since this all happened...” Jill sighed again. “I'm sixteen, before I got 'called' or whatever I was going to a Lutheran school being all repressed and whatever. This happens, my parents find out I'm some sort of demon--”
“That's not-”
“--and I'm a lesbian to boot. One surrounded by hot girls, even!”
It was times like this that Xander had really wished Willow had never left to England to help train girls there. But alas, he and Buffy were the only two in the whole LA area still, so it often came down to awkward-conversations-Xander to try and keep a bunch of hormonal teenage girls with superpowers sane. Mom would be so proud, if she wasn't dead.
Xander clasped an arm around Jill and squeezed her close. “There's nothing wrong with being surrounded by hot girls.” Finally, a laugh from Jill. “There's nothing wrong with you at all. Your parents, well, they suck for how they reacted when we came to help you, but at least you have people who care about you.”
“They're all bitches.”
“They're teenagers.” Xander corrected. “I was once one too, and look at me now!” Awkward pause. “Okay, bad example.”
Jill remained silent for a moment. “It sucks being gay.” She said.
“Tell me about it.” Xander said. Jill looked at him strangely, then smiled.
“Something you'd like to tell us?” She teased.
Xander laughed, “No, my young Padawan, but we really ought to be getting back now.” He stood and offered her a hand.
It was in bed with Anya during a spur of the moment game of 'Let's Tell Each Other Our Deepest Secrets,' a game Anya toned down exponentially so as not to drive Xander away in fear and revulsion, that the words finally came out. “I like guys.”
Anya had looked at him funny. “Well, of course you like 'guys.'” she even quoted 'guys' with her fingers, “You're around women so much you desire male-to-male interaction.” She smiled, content with her logic.
It was more than that, though, but Xander let it go. He liked looking at guys, but he loved women, and more importantly he loved Anya. There was no reason to push the subject.
After Anya died, Xander was empty and alone for a long time. Still was, and imagined he always would be. Willow, when Tara died, went all crazy dark-Willow and nearly destroyed the world. At most, Xander destroyed a box of donuts to himself, but the same sadness remained inside him.
It was during one of his phone calls with Willow, one they had at least once every few nights, that he said it again.
“Remember that time I told you to gay me up?” He asked, not sure why he still remembered that, or why his mind thought now was the best time to bring it to the surface. But it was, and now it was too late to stop it from taking its course.
“Oh yeah, after that demon lady tried to sacrifice you.” They both laughed, though neither could really understand why it was so funny all things considered.
“Well,” Xander said, taking a breath. “I was only half kidding.”
There was a long pause. “What about Anya?” Xander was just glad she skipped past the obvious questions, probably from personal experience.
“I said half.”
“Bi?”
“I guess.” And they left it that. It wasn't as if Xander had any experience to speak of, but he was just glad he had someone to talk about it with finally, now that he could admit it to himself.
“Looks like the show's already started.” Jill said. The crowd that was in front of the club was now gone, and muffled music wafted down the street.
Xander perked his ears. “Maybe I'm crazy, but it sounds like they don't suck.”
Inside, Xander only threw a quick glance at the stage-- glad to see some adults who knew how to play, this time around-- before pushing around the edges of the crowd, sidling up next to the other girls when he found them. The indie-pop trio on stage seemed to have the crowd moving, a sharp change from the last group.
“What band is this?” He asked Deandre during a more quiet part of the song, but was quickly shushed.
When the song came to an end a few seconds later, she turned and said, “The Bronze, now shush!” before turning back toward the stage.
Xander raised an eyebrow. “The Bronze?”
He looked up on stage and saw a face he recognized. Sure he was older, had more scruff than he did before, but it's hard to not recognize the face that made your junior high years hell. “Larry?”
And boy, could that man sing and play guitar. Larry, Xander noticed, was not the person he was in high school and it showed. He was relaxed on stage, loose, happy-- different than the stuck up jock Xander remembered.
To say he was captivated was an understatement. Xander was baffled. Enthralled. Suspicious, and glad to see a familiar face, despite their past. But most of all, he was utterly confused. Last he'd heard, Larry had died the night of graduation. He hadn't seen his body himself, but as far as he knew it was true. Unless... oh god.
Was he a vampire? Xander's heart raced suddenly. Could the whole band be vampires? If so, everyone in here was in a lot of trouble. He had to do something, but he had to be sure before he alerted the girls. They were well trained warriors, but not so much with the subtly.
“Wait here,” he told each of the girls as the song came to an end. Without another word, he began to push through the thick crowd.
“This next song,” Larry said into the microphone, his words coming out a little muffled through the speakers, “is about a very special guy I used to know who helped me through a tough time in my life. It's called Brown Eyed Boy.”
Larry turned his back to the crowd and counted off with the drummer, before breaking into a painfully folk-rock-come-indie ballad.
Xander pushed through the crowd as best he could, but found himself pushed further and further to the side of the stage. He kept his eye on Larry as best he could as he sang his heart out about something, Xander couldn't understand over the loudness of the music, only made worse the closer he got to stage. If Larry were a vampire, Xander decided, he'd become one of those dangerous suave ones, captivating the audience with his smooth talking and hip gyrating. Bastard had to be stopped.
As Xander got nearer the stage, the band went through the second round of the chorus, the crowd singing along this time, Larry grinning ear to ear.
“Brown eyed boy, brown eyed boy
Look what you've done to me
You let me from my cage, and
Pushed me to be just me.”
Xander pushed closer to the stage, getting nearer with each word.
“Brown eyed boy, brown eyed boy
Just see what you've done for me
If I could only find you
I'd thank you proper and sweet.”
Xander lost his footing as he finally got to the edge of the stage and went tumbling down, landing right at the feet of the bands bassist, a tall thin man who looked none too pleased but kept playing. Xander looked up apologetically and pushed himself to his feet. As he did, he realized he'd overshot his goal and wound up on the stage.
Turning around only made his stomach sink as he looked out over the sea of confused and amused faces. He felt his face burn red, an unconscious goofy nervous grin stretching across his face. He did the only thing he could think to do, given the situation. He danced.
Arms pumping, feet twisting, and altogether the most failed attempt to look nonchalant anyone in the audience had ever seen.
The music came to a crawl, the guitar dropping away all together. Xander paused mid-fist pump and looked over at Larry, who looked at him bewildered. Xander smirked self-conciously.
“Xander?” Larry's face lit up. “XAN!” He looked out over the audience, jittery with excitement. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Brown Eyed Boy I was just singing about!” Larry turned to look at at Xander and mouthed 'holy crap.'
The audience broke out into laughter and applause, a chorus of 'oooOOOoooh's' came from the general direction the girls were at. Xander's stomach dropped out the bottom of him. He looked at Larry again, who was suddenly grabbing him in for a hug.
Xander attempted to dodge, but it was too late. The guitar crushing between them, Xander was in the tightest human-based bear hug of his life. If Larry were a vampire, going by the enthusiasm in the hug, Xander ought to have been dead.
The guitar squealed.
“What happened to your eye, man?” It was colder now, despite Xander's whole body still burning red out of embarrassment. Larry had finished his set, grinning the whole time and casting his eyes at Xander from time to time-- which made Xander even redder still. After the band broke down their equipment, Larry asked him to hang out in the back parking lot with him while the girls finished watching the other bands.
“There was a... thing.” Xander shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his face down.
“Like, demon thing?” Larry asked, taking a swig off a bottle of water. Xander nodded. “Geez, man, I'm sorry about that. I can't even imagine.”
“What about you?” Xander asked, trying to be as nonchalant as he could. “I'd heard you died graduation night.”
Larry choked on his water. “What?” He looked at Xander as if he'd grown an extra head-- which, technically he had at one point, but that was neither here nor there. “No, no, I-- I'm still here! Why'd you think I died?”
Xander shrugged and leaned against Larry's car. “Well, I'd heard things. And nobody ever saw you after that night, so...” He pushed himself off the car again. “I don't know, I just heard.”
Larry laughed. “Nah, man. I moved. I got messed up bad, was in the hospital for a few nights, but after that my parents said 'Enough of this crap,' and we left town for good.”
Xander nodded, appreciative that at least some people had common sense.
A car pulled up alongside them, the bassist and drummer for the band were inside with most of the equipment. “Hey Lar, we'll see you tomorrow, alright?” He stuck his hand out the car window.
Larry slapped the bassist five. “Alright, cool. See you later.”
“Have fun with your boyfriend!” The drummer shouted from the passenger seat as the car pulled away, the duo inside laughing maniacally. Larry laughed too, until he caught Xander's eye and clamped his mouth shut.
After a moment, Larry perked up. “You know, Greg-- my bassist-- he's from a town called Sunnyvale, with a V.”
“I've heard of that place.” Xander said, smirking.
“It's crazy, because when we first met we thought we were from each others same town for the first few days. Two totally different places, but we just didn't get it.” Larry chuckled. “But yeah!” He motioned toward Xander. “I see you finally escaped! When'd that happen?”
“You hear how Sunnydale is now Sunnydale crater?”
Larry nodded. “Yeah, some sort of plate tectonic bullshit the media put out there.”
“Yeah,” Xander agreed, “I was on the last bus out of town.”
“Wow.” Larry sat on the hood of his car and slapped the spot next to him for Xander to sit. Xander chose to lean.
“What about you?” Xander asked. “I mean, you're not dead! What've you been doing?”
Larry shrugged. “This, that. The band just got done with our summer tour.”
“It's November,” Xander chimed.
“An extended summer tour. This was actually our unofficial welcome home show.”
Xander nodded. The awkwardness of the situation was not lost on him. Not so much the 'wow, he was dead and now he's not' awkwardness, nor the 'this guy used to beat me up' sort. But the 'this is surprisingly not awkward, just guys catching up' kind of awkward. The sort you could only have from shared secrets and traumas.
Larry elbowed Xander. “So you ever, uh... You know?”
Xander looked at him funny for a second, before realizing what he was talking about. “Come out?” Larry nodded. “Oh, no, no.” Xander laughed. “I never had a chance to explain. See, I thought you were a werewolf back then!”
Larry laughed. “Really now?”
Xander nodded. “Yup. And it was my job to try and get the truth out of you.”
Larry uh-huh'ed as he took a swig of water.
“Because I was once possessed by a hyena, so we all thought maybe you and I could connect like that.”
“You all?”
“Buffy, Willow, and I.”
Larry's face lit up. “Oh yeah! How are those girls?”
“Long story.”
“Oh, I'm sorry.”
Xander waved his arms, “No, no! Not 'long story' bad, just long story.” Larry nodded, and the both of them went quiet. Larry didn't look at Xander for a while, seemingly caught up in thought. Xander kept glancing at him, trying to decide what action to take next.
Here was a man who understood what Xander had gone through, but wasn't tainted by being too close either. It was weird, because for once he could speak freely without having to make it into a lesson for one of the girls, or have it be a shared memory with someone who had gone with it already, and didn't want any reliving. It was different. Refreshing. Yet all too heavy, for some reason.
“I almost got married.” Xander found himself saying.
“To a girl?” Larry chuckled.
Xander nodded. “Woman, more like it. Ex-demon, actually.” He corrected himself.
“No shit?” Larry looked at him, impressed.
“Yup.” He paused. “She died.”
Larry didn't say anything for a moment. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“She died a hero.” Xander said, and meant it.
Larry sat in silence for a moment, then cleared his throat. “So did my boyfriend. His name was Marshall.”
Xander listened in silence as Larry told him his story. Larry did the same when Xander told his.
It wasn't until Xander got home with the girls that he realized he hadn't gotten Larry's number. It hadn't occurred to him at the time. The girls were tired and ready to go, and Larry was all too polite and willing to oblige them. Now, it seemed, he'd lost contact with Larry again now that he knew the man was still alive.
Inside it was noisy. With almost a dozen girls living in in the cramped five bedroom house-- not an easy find for a decent price in the outer-LA area-- there was never a moment of silence. The fact that they were all being homeschooled by Buffy and Xander, neither of whom had any desire to relive high school so thoroughly either, only helped add to the anxiety of playing as de facto watcher for these budding Slayers.
But for now, Xander's duties were done for the night and the girls were officially in charge of themselves. Xander made his way into the kitchen to grab something to drink, and maybe a tylenol while he was at it. He chuckled at the note scrawled on the refrigerator door's whiteboard--
Gone slayin'!
Buffy's writing. He pulled the door open, grabbed himself a warm can of coke-- obviously the girls had just run out not long ago and had just been resupplied-- and made his escape from the chaos inside. As he opened the door he heard the sound of something crashing deep in the house followed by a mousey “Sorry,” something he'd obviously have to fix the next day. He stepped through the door into the cool night air.
So Larry was alive. Not just alive, but happy, and near somewhere. He could, Xander thought, try and find the band's myspace. But, well, that might seem impersonal. But if he looked Larry up directly it might come off stalker'y. Xander wasn't a stalker. Old Xander, sure, but not eye-patch-wearing-leader-of-teenage-girls Xander.
Part of him wondered why he cared so much. Sure, it was nice seeing an old friendly face from the old town. But he didn't have time for friends. He couldn't just go grab a drink any time, not with his hands full at home. He just couldn't take the time to mosey out across town to hang with somebody he still only barely knew, even if he was scruffy and cute.
Xander caught that last line of thought and paused. So, he thought to himself, the truth comes out of the closet. He sighed. This was not something he was ready to deal with just now. Or ever. He could admit to himself that the likes of Scott Bakula and that guy from Firefly made him happy, just as much as Jessica Alba did. But those were people he didn't have any real chance of running into in person, not to mention have half a chance with. He couldn't handle a crush like this, not now. He had to squelch it when it was still in it's early stages, something he was sadly a veteran at.
So caught up in his thoughts, Xander didn't hear the car pulling down the street, or stopping across the way. He didn't hear the car door open, or the steps of someone walking toward him. It wasn't until he heard his name that he finally caught on that someone was there.
“Xander?” He looked up and saw a hulking figure, backlit by the street light. “Oh, thank god it was you.” Larry laughed. “Last thing I wanted was to freak out any of my neighbors this late at night.”
Xander looked at him, baffled. “Wh-- What the Leonard Nimoy are you doing here?”
Larry stood over Xander now, grinning like an idiot. “I should ask you the same thing.” He pointed to the house across the street. “I live right over there. I just haven't been home since I've been on tour.”
Xander's heart sank and skipped a beat at the same time. “Oh.”
Neighbors : Ch. 2, The Torso Laying At Your Feet
Ch. 1, Brown Eyed Boy
Pairing: Xander/Larry
Rating: PG, this chapter
Summary: Now that Xander is finally set in the way things are, a man he thought was dead comes back into his life, singing and dancing. Slash, post-Chosen, slight-AU.
Beta: _finn_
Words: 3834
“What kind of place doesn't have chairs?” Xander asked over the blaringly loud power-pop chunking from the speakers, the three teenagers on stage standing stiff as they labored through their set. The three girls he'd been tasked to watch over for the night patently ignored him, not that he'd expected an answer. Just making conversation, or trying to at least.
They had only been at the club for less than half an hour, but Xander's feet were already beginning to ache from some sort of psychosomatic desire to get the heck out of there. He shifted from foot to foot, doing his best not to rub against any of the other kids that filled the place. He'd never felt so old in his life, and he was still barely in his mid-twenties. The girls took turns rocking back and forth to the music, and turning to gleefully shout comments about the boys, and girl, on stage.
The song ended on a long shrill sour note and, much to Xander's relief, so did their set. The singer-bassist thanked them for watching their set-- just the slightest hint of teenage desperation in his shout-graveled voice-- then they quickly began to dismantle their equipment, hip-hop coming up over the speakers to fill the void.
Xander laughed, “And no MC, either! They just,” he waved his hand at the stage, “set up, play, and get off. Where's the show in that?” He turned, a half-smile on his face, to see the girls were already filing out the door with the rest of the crowd.
Demons he could handle. Teenage girls, he still could not.
With a sigh he followed them out to the front street, relishing in the sudden burst of fresh night air, yin to the stale air inside the small club's yang. He swallowed the coolness in gulps.
Deandre, the youngest of the group at fifteen and by far the most talkative, was prattling on about the show as Xander approached. “They were soooo good. I want to have their babies.” Xander quirked an eyebrow at this.
“They sucked.” Jill, always the direct one. Even the overstylized cartoon character on the back of her shirt reflected the stoic look usually etched on her face.
Deandre shook her head with a smarmy smirk. Grace jumped in, almost literally, “Go to hell, Jill! Seriously, why did you even come?”
Jill shrugged. “Better than staying in all night.”
“It's just 'cause you like Xaaaander,” Deandre chidded, pointing a playful eye over Jill's shoulder at the man in question. Xander took half a step back, his hands up defensively. Jill turned around quickly, stared at him in muted horror, then turned back to Deandre.
“Fuck you!”
“Whoa!” Xander grabbed Jill's arm as she brought her fist back, ready to strike. “Okay, time out! One band and five minutes in, and I've already got to break up a fight? Seriously, ladies.” He glanced down at the red-faced Jill, and playfully winked. “There's no need to fight over the Xan Man.”
Grace made a disgusted face and Deandre chuckled. Jill, though, was not so amused. She shook off Xander's arm and stormed away in a huff, quickly coming to a full run. The teenaged crowd behind them watched on, enthralled in the drama.
“Jill!” Xander called. He took a step forward before casting a glare down at the other two girls. “You two. Inside. Now. Don't come out for anything less than the apocalypse.”
He began to run after the much quicker teen, shouting back over his shoulder. “I'm serious!”
Ten minutes, four blocks, and an alleyway later Xander finally came across Jill, huddled beside a trash can. “You should be careful. I hear the weirdos come out at night.” Xander said.
“I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. I even wear grown-up pants.”
Xander nodded and slid down next to her. “You know, what those girls--”
“I'm a lesbian.”
“And now I'm caught off guard.”
Jill sighed and looked at Xander, stiff resolution set in her jaw. “I've never told anyone, but since this all happened...” Jill sighed again. “I'm sixteen, before I got 'called' or whatever I was going to a Lutheran school being all repressed and whatever. This happens, my parents find out I'm some sort of demon--”
“That's not-”
“--and I'm a lesbian to boot. One surrounded by hot girls, even!”
It was times like this that Xander had really wished Willow had never left to England to help train girls there. But alas, he and Buffy were the only two in the whole LA area still, so it often came down to awkward-conversations-Xander to try and keep a bunch of hormonal teenage girls with superpowers sane. Mom would be so proud, if she wasn't dead.
Xander clasped an arm around Jill and squeezed her close. “There's nothing wrong with being surrounded by hot girls.” Finally, a laugh from Jill. “There's nothing wrong with you at all. Your parents, well, they suck for how they reacted when we came to help you, but at least you have people who care about you.”
“They're all bitches.”
“They're teenagers.” Xander corrected. “I was once one too, and look at me now!” Awkward pause. “Okay, bad example.”
Jill remained silent for a moment. “It sucks being gay.” She said.
“Tell me about it.” Xander said. Jill looked at him strangely, then smiled.
“Something you'd like to tell us?” She teased.
Xander laughed, “No, my young Padawan, but we really ought to be getting back now.” He stood and offered her a hand.
It was in bed with Anya during a spur of the moment game of 'Let's Tell Each Other Our Deepest Secrets,' a game Anya toned down exponentially so as not to drive Xander away in fear and revulsion, that the words finally came out. “I like guys.”
Anya had looked at him funny. “Well, of course you like 'guys.'” she even quoted 'guys' with her fingers, “You're around women so much you desire male-to-male interaction.” She smiled, content with her logic.
It was more than that, though, but Xander let it go. He liked looking at guys, but he loved women, and more importantly he loved Anya. There was no reason to push the subject.
After Anya died, Xander was empty and alone for a long time. Still was, and imagined he always would be. Willow, when Tara died, went all crazy dark-Willow and nearly destroyed the world. At most, Xander destroyed a box of donuts to himself, but the same sadness remained inside him.
It was during one of his phone calls with Willow, one they had at least once every few nights, that he said it again.
“Remember that time I told you to gay me up?” He asked, not sure why he still remembered that, or why his mind thought now was the best time to bring it to the surface. But it was, and now it was too late to stop it from taking its course.
“Oh yeah, after that demon lady tried to sacrifice you.” They both laughed, though neither could really understand why it was so funny all things considered.
“Well,” Xander said, taking a breath. “I was only half kidding.”
There was a long pause. “What about Anya?” Xander was just glad she skipped past the obvious questions, probably from personal experience.
“I said half.”
“Bi?”
“I guess.” And they left it that. It wasn't as if Xander had any experience to speak of, but he was just glad he had someone to talk about it with finally, now that he could admit it to himself.
“Looks like the show's already started.” Jill said. The crowd that was in front of the club was now gone, and muffled music wafted down the street.
Xander perked his ears. “Maybe I'm crazy, but it sounds like they don't suck.”
Inside, Xander only threw a quick glance at the stage-- glad to see some adults who knew how to play, this time around-- before pushing around the edges of the crowd, sidling up next to the other girls when he found them. The indie-pop trio on stage seemed to have the crowd moving, a sharp change from the last group.
“What band is this?” He asked Deandre during a more quiet part of the song, but was quickly shushed.
When the song came to an end a few seconds later, she turned and said, “The Bronze, now shush!” before turning back toward the stage.
Xander raised an eyebrow. “The Bronze?”
He looked up on stage and saw a face he recognized. Sure he was older, had more scruff than he did before, but it's hard to not recognize the face that made your junior high years hell. “Larry?”
And boy, could that man sing and play guitar. Larry, Xander noticed, was not the person he was in high school and it showed. He was relaxed on stage, loose, happy-- different than the stuck up jock Xander remembered.
To say he was captivated was an understatement. Xander was baffled. Enthralled. Suspicious, and glad to see a familiar face, despite their past. But most of all, he was utterly confused. Last he'd heard, Larry had died the night of graduation. He hadn't seen his body himself, but as far as he knew it was true. Unless... oh god.
Was he a vampire? Xander's heart raced suddenly. Could the whole band be vampires? If so, everyone in here was in a lot of trouble. He had to do something, but he had to be sure before he alerted the girls. They were well trained warriors, but not so much with the subtly.
“Wait here,” he told each of the girls as the song came to an end. Without another word, he began to push through the thick crowd.
“This next song,” Larry said into the microphone, his words coming out a little muffled through the speakers, “is about a very special guy I used to know who helped me through a tough time in my life. It's called Brown Eyed Boy.”
Larry turned his back to the crowd and counted off with the drummer, before breaking into a painfully folk-rock-come-indie ballad.
Xander pushed through the crowd as best he could, but found himself pushed further and further to the side of the stage. He kept his eye on Larry as best he could as he sang his heart out about something, Xander couldn't understand over the loudness of the music, only made worse the closer he got to stage. If Larry were a vampire, Xander decided, he'd become one of those dangerous suave ones, captivating the audience with his smooth talking and hip gyrating. Bastard had to be stopped.
As Xander got nearer the stage, the band went through the second round of the chorus, the crowd singing along this time, Larry grinning ear to ear.
“Brown eyed boy, brown eyed boy
Look what you've done to me
You let me from my cage, and
Pushed me to be just me.”
Xander pushed closer to the stage, getting nearer with each word.
“Brown eyed boy, brown eyed boy
Just see what you've done for me
If I could only find you
I'd thank you proper and sweet.”
Xander lost his footing as he finally got to the edge of the stage and went tumbling down, landing right at the feet of the bands bassist, a tall thin man who looked none too pleased but kept playing. Xander looked up apologetically and pushed himself to his feet. As he did, he realized he'd overshot his goal and wound up on the stage.
Turning around only made his stomach sink as he looked out over the sea of confused and amused faces. He felt his face burn red, an unconscious goofy nervous grin stretching across his face. He did the only thing he could think to do, given the situation. He danced.
Arms pumping, feet twisting, and altogether the most failed attempt to look nonchalant anyone in the audience had ever seen.
The music came to a crawl, the guitar dropping away all together. Xander paused mid-fist pump and looked over at Larry, who looked at him bewildered. Xander smirked self-conciously.
“Xander?” Larry's face lit up. “XAN!” He looked out over the audience, jittery with excitement. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Brown Eyed Boy I was just singing about!” Larry turned to look at at Xander and mouthed 'holy crap.'
The audience broke out into laughter and applause, a chorus of 'oooOOOoooh's' came from the general direction the girls were at. Xander's stomach dropped out the bottom of him. He looked at Larry again, who was suddenly grabbing him in for a hug.
Xander attempted to dodge, but it was too late. The guitar crushing between them, Xander was in the tightest human-based bear hug of his life. If Larry were a vampire, going by the enthusiasm in the hug, Xander ought to have been dead.
The guitar squealed.
“What happened to your eye, man?” It was colder now, despite Xander's whole body still burning red out of embarrassment. Larry had finished his set, grinning the whole time and casting his eyes at Xander from time to time-- which made Xander even redder still. After the band broke down their equipment, Larry asked him to hang out in the back parking lot with him while the girls finished watching the other bands.
“There was a... thing.” Xander shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his face down.
“Like, demon thing?” Larry asked, taking a swig off a bottle of water. Xander nodded. “Geez, man, I'm sorry about that. I can't even imagine.”
“What about you?” Xander asked, trying to be as nonchalant as he could. “I'd heard you died graduation night.”
Larry choked on his water. “What?” He looked at Xander as if he'd grown an extra head-- which, technically he had at one point, but that was neither here nor there. “No, no, I-- I'm still here! Why'd you think I died?”
Xander shrugged and leaned against Larry's car. “Well, I'd heard things. And nobody ever saw you after that night, so...” He pushed himself off the car again. “I don't know, I just heard.”
Larry laughed. “Nah, man. I moved. I got messed up bad, was in the hospital for a few nights, but after that my parents said 'Enough of this crap,' and we left town for good.”
Xander nodded, appreciative that at least some people had common sense.
A car pulled up alongside them, the bassist and drummer for the band were inside with most of the equipment. “Hey Lar, we'll see you tomorrow, alright?” He stuck his hand out the car window.
Larry slapped the bassist five. “Alright, cool. See you later.”
“Have fun with your boyfriend!” The drummer shouted from the passenger seat as the car pulled away, the duo inside laughing maniacally. Larry laughed too, until he caught Xander's eye and clamped his mouth shut.
After a moment, Larry perked up. “You know, Greg-- my bassist-- he's from a town called Sunnyvale, with a V.”
“I've heard of that place.” Xander said, smirking.
“It's crazy, because when we first met we thought we were from each others same town for the first few days. Two totally different places, but we just didn't get it.” Larry chuckled. “But yeah!” He motioned toward Xander. “I see you finally escaped! When'd that happen?”
“You hear how Sunnydale is now Sunnydale crater?”
Larry nodded. “Yeah, some sort of plate tectonic bullshit the media put out there.”
“Yeah,” Xander agreed, “I was on the last bus out of town.”
“Wow.” Larry sat on the hood of his car and slapped the spot next to him for Xander to sit. Xander chose to lean.
“What about you?” Xander asked. “I mean, you're not dead! What've you been doing?”
Larry shrugged. “This, that. The band just got done with our summer tour.”
“It's November,” Xander chimed.
“An extended summer tour. This was actually our unofficial welcome home show.”
Xander nodded. The awkwardness of the situation was not lost on him. Not so much the 'wow, he was dead and now he's not' awkwardness, nor the 'this guy used to beat me up' sort. But the 'this is surprisingly not awkward, just guys catching up' kind of awkward. The sort you could only have from shared secrets and traumas.
Larry elbowed Xander. “So you ever, uh... You know?”
Xander looked at him funny for a second, before realizing what he was talking about. “Come out?” Larry nodded. “Oh, no, no.” Xander laughed. “I never had a chance to explain. See, I thought you were a werewolf back then!”
Larry laughed. “Really now?”
Xander nodded. “Yup. And it was my job to try and get the truth out of you.”
Larry uh-huh'ed as he took a swig of water.
“Because I was once possessed by a hyena, so we all thought maybe you and I could connect like that.”
“You all?”
“Buffy, Willow, and I.”
Larry's face lit up. “Oh yeah! How are those girls?”
“Long story.”
“Oh, I'm sorry.”
Xander waved his arms, “No, no! Not 'long story' bad, just long story.” Larry nodded, and the both of them went quiet. Larry didn't look at Xander for a while, seemingly caught up in thought. Xander kept glancing at him, trying to decide what action to take next.
Here was a man who understood what Xander had gone through, but wasn't tainted by being too close either. It was weird, because for once he could speak freely without having to make it into a lesson for one of the girls, or have it be a shared memory with someone who had gone with it already, and didn't want any reliving. It was different. Refreshing. Yet all too heavy, for some reason.
“I almost got married.” Xander found himself saying.
“To a girl?” Larry chuckled.
Xander nodded. “Woman, more like it. Ex-demon, actually.” He corrected himself.
“No shit?” Larry looked at him, impressed.
“Yup.” He paused. “She died.”
Larry didn't say anything for a moment. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“She died a hero.” Xander said, and meant it.
Larry sat in silence for a moment, then cleared his throat. “So did my boyfriend. His name was Marshall.”
Xander listened in silence as Larry told him his story. Larry did the same when Xander told his.
It wasn't until Xander got home with the girls that he realized he hadn't gotten Larry's number. It hadn't occurred to him at the time. The girls were tired and ready to go, and Larry was all too polite and willing to oblige them. Now, it seemed, he'd lost contact with Larry again now that he knew the man was still alive.
Inside it was noisy. With almost a dozen girls living in in the cramped five bedroom house-- not an easy find for a decent price in the outer-LA area-- there was never a moment of silence. The fact that they were all being homeschooled by Buffy and Xander, neither of whom had any desire to relive high school so thoroughly either, only helped add to the anxiety of playing as de facto watcher for these budding Slayers.
But for now, Xander's duties were done for the night and the girls were officially in charge of themselves. Xander made his way into the kitchen to grab something to drink, and maybe a tylenol while he was at it. He chuckled at the note scrawled on the refrigerator door's whiteboard--
Gone slayin'!
Buffy's writing. He pulled the door open, grabbed himself a warm can of coke-- obviously the girls had just run out not long ago and had just been resupplied-- and made his escape from the chaos inside. As he opened the door he heard the sound of something crashing deep in the house followed by a mousey “Sorry,” something he'd obviously have to fix the next day. He stepped through the door into the cool night air.
So Larry was alive. Not just alive, but happy, and near somewhere. He could, Xander thought, try and find the band's myspace. But, well, that might seem impersonal. But if he looked Larry up directly it might come off stalker'y. Xander wasn't a stalker. Old Xander, sure, but not eye-patch-wearing-leader-of-teenage-girls Xander.
Part of him wondered why he cared so much. Sure, it was nice seeing an old friendly face from the old town. But he didn't have time for friends. He couldn't just go grab a drink any time, not with his hands full at home. He just couldn't take the time to mosey out across town to hang with somebody he still only barely knew, even if he was scruffy and cute.
Xander caught that last line of thought and paused. So, he thought to himself, the truth comes out of the closet. He sighed. This was not something he was ready to deal with just now. Or ever. He could admit to himself that the likes of Scott Bakula and that guy from Firefly made him happy, just as much as Jessica Alba did. But those were people he didn't have any real chance of running into in person, not to mention have half a chance with. He couldn't handle a crush like this, not now. He had to squelch it when it was still in it's early stages, something he was sadly a veteran at.
So caught up in his thoughts, Xander didn't hear the car pulling down the street, or stopping across the way. He didn't hear the car door open, or the steps of someone walking toward him. It wasn't until he heard his name that he finally caught on that someone was there.
“Xander?” He looked up and saw a hulking figure, backlit by the street light. “Oh, thank god it was you.” Larry laughed. “Last thing I wanted was to freak out any of my neighbors this late at night.”
Xander looked at him, baffled. “Wh-- What the Leonard Nimoy are you doing here?”
Larry stood over Xander now, grinning like an idiot. “I should ask you the same thing.” He pointed to the house across the street. “I live right over there. I just haven't been home since I've been on tour.”
Xander's heart sank and skipped a beat at the same time. “Oh.”
Neighbors : Ch. 2, The Torso Laying At Your Feet