(Untitled)

[magicboner]

characters: Jonathan Levinson and Andrew Wells.
rating: we'll just go with PG at best!
summary: a little something we like to call SzechuanGate. Andrew and Jonathan go for Chinese, a certain someone doesn't show, general merriment occurs. except, not. [incomplete~]

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[storytell]

Andrew scampers to his door; there is no other word for it. He'd already spent the last half an hour of commenting getting ready; doing his routine, picking out clothes. It's seeing Warren again that is the clincher, and he spends at least ten minutes agonizing over shoes before realizing that uh, it probably doesn't matter quite that much

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Sudden movements. Andrew forgot the thing about the sudden movements. But Jonathan can't blame him, it's not like he expects everyone to slow down for him. Still, even though he jumps a little, it works when he lands on his tiptoes and throws his arms around Andrew's neck. He hasn't smiled this much in weeks

[storytell]

Jonathan's reflex fear still makes a coil of guilt burn brightly inside Andrew's stomach, but he lets being happy for his friend drown that out for the moment. "I am so glad," he mumbles into Jonathan's hair, and he really is

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Jonathan glances back at the apartment door and swallows hard. He could have stayed in there. They could have the power for once and make Warren wait, something Jonathan knows he hates. All of that anger he had for Andrew has mostly melted away by now, but he isn't sure if he'll ever think of Warren without his body tensing a little. There's just so much. It scares him and reminds him that he needs to go to the doctor, soon. Prescriptions don't carry over in Babylon. And he knows, he knows that Warren won't work things out like he and Andrew did. He knows better than to even try. So he'll play nice, try not to say stupid things that could upset either of them (though he's finding it's hard to avoid that) and maybe, hopefully, he'll forget for a while. They can go back to the way things were

[storytell]

At first Andrew's lost in his own thoughts, but when Jonathan grabs his arm he slows, tilts his head to one side and smiles down. "Yeah, I bet you're right," he says.

And the thing about Andrew is he can make himself believe that completely. The curve of his mouth is a little dreamy, even now with all the grounding stuff he's been through he still wants to imagine their happy reunion. It's something like the Starsky and Hutch beach scene, except Warren's there. Maybe Kirk, returning to the enterprise after they had thought he was dead. Whatever, it was going to be the best reunion ever.

The apartment block is almost right on the main road, and Andrew lets go of his happy place and glances at Jonathan, biting his lip. "Um, do you wanna catch a bus or something? Or do you think you can manage the walk?"

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When he laughs, it's hoarse and genuine. He keeps looking up at Andrew, and the fact that he's still worried about him makes Jonathan feel all sorts of warm. Cared for in a way he's not used to. But no, he's okay for now. "Um, of course I want to walk," he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. Andrew has no idea. There's nothing he wants more right now than to just walk.

So they walk in silence for a bit. Not awkward, just quiet. Jonathan keeps stopping to look around, then skipping a few steps to catch back up. Andrew was right, this world is awesome. Not better than Sunnydale (nothing is, nothing will be) and he's still not convinced that it's better than Rome, but it's something. The simple fact that Jonathan has no idea where he's going is keeping his mouth shut. There's too much to see to be distracted by words

[storytell]

Of course Andrew is thinking about Warren. What he'll look like, how he'll have changed. His memories of past events are always fuzzy, colored by his own daydreams and make-believes. The blandness of school has been pushed aside to the vivid life he lead after graduation, from the moment Warren asked if they wanted to team up and take over Sunnydale

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For a few seconds, Jonathan just stares at Andrew. He looks so calm and sure of what he's saying, it's refreshing. Hell, he looks almost angelic, and for a second Jonathan can't imagine how anything could ever go wrong

[storytell]

"Just don't wig, okay," Andrew says, who can feel some maxicup wiggins coming on himself. He squeezes Jonathan's hand apologetically and lets go - that is so totally not the right foot to start himself out on. But he turns to face his friend, reads his nervousness in the shifting stance, the way he tries to hold himself a little taller, pretend like everything's fine. Andrew lets his hand slide back and touches him once, on the wrist

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His wrist doesn't twinge when Andrew touches it, but his fingers do curl into a fist. "Oh, yeah. We should have tried to hold up a Chinese restaurant." It's a joke, even if it doesn't sound like one, so he smiles reassuringly before they walk in. Every cell of his body is flooded with relief: Warren isn't there. Maybe he got lost, or is waiting to catch a bus. Jonathan doesn't care

[storytell]

Andrew's concern runs to the other end of the spectrum - what if Warren got hit by a bus? What if he ran into Buffy or, or, Starbuck, and they killed him again! What if his room-mate was actually some Batemenesque serial killer, bent on using Warren for her first evil experiment with body parts. He tries not to imagine it, chewing on a nail instead and staring worriedly at the dessert page

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For a second, Jonathan doesn't care about the food. He lets the menu fall onto the table and catches Andrew's hand. Andrew won't look at him. It's fine, he's used to avoiding eye contact with people. "The thing I said, about it being fine?" He taps a finger on the inside of his friend's wrist. The thought has crossed his mind, too, that Warren just won't show. But that would be worse than showing up and fighting with them, and would Warren really pass up the opportunity to come out on top? Ever? So he just shrugs and squeezes Andrew's hand tightly. "It's still true

[storytell]

"I don't think so," says Andrew, who hadn't entirely been listening. Now that he thinks about it, it sounded like Jonathan had listed a fair amount of food. "In fact," he adds, "Definitely not." He realises Jonathan isn't touching him anymore and settles for worrying at his napkin

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Jonathan watches Andrew shredding his napkin into teeny tiny pieces and sighs. He unscrews the cap of his drink and smells it cautiously. First thing he's been able to drink since water and whatever sort of weak tea Andrew had brought him a few times, and he doesn't even know what it is. Still, he takes a sip and, surprisingly, doesn't immediately spit it back up. He opens his mouth to tell Andrew it's melon and fizzy and that he should try it, when his friend explodes

[storytell]

The new seating arrangements barely seem important next to Jonathan's words. His hand is enfolded by Jonathan's, wrapped up for comfort, and Andrew takes a sip of the drink as he listens. He doesn't taste a thing. When he puts the bottle on the table there's a mini snowstorm of tissue, the tiny white shreds sticking to the condensation. He'd rather watch that. The way the water blossoms through the tissue and collapses it is fascinating; a breakdown in miniature

[magicboner]

Jonathan understands Warren. He doesn't want to. He wants to understand Andrew