BuffyFic: Closet
Title: Closet
Author: John Clifford
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Buffy Season 7; Angel "You're Welcome".
Summary: Cordy makes another stop on the road following 'You're Welcome', for one last reunion with Mr. Xander Harris...
Xander Harris fell asleep in Africa, and woke up in the janitor’s closet.
The janitor’s closet of Sunnydale High School, no less. And not even the New & Improved Sunnydale High, now with Added Hellmouthy Goodness. Or briefly with Added Hellmouthy Goodness, anyway. Before the Hellmouth itself was destroyed, taking the entire town of Sunnydale with it in a mucho de special effects implosion.
No, this was the original Sunnydale High, circa 1996-99.
“And the original janitor’s closet,” Xander murmured, sighing happily. “I spent some of my best class times in this closet!”
And a voice answered, “We SO needed to get out more.” Perhaps that dulcet sarcasm was inevitable-for what was the janitor’s closet without Cordelia Chase?
Xander blinked (or was it just considered a wink now? He hadn’t quite worked that one out yet). She was standing right behind him. He could feel her breath on his neck, all warm, and…and burn all your dictionaries ‘cause your fancy language can’t avail you now, buster, you’re just…help? But he couldn’t bring himself to turn, he wasn’t ready yet for her to see him only half-seeing, he wasn’t…
“Let you in on a little secret, junior,” she whispered in his ear, slipping her left arm through his right and giving him a gentle half turn. “Cyclops always was the sexiest X-Man.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, Xander’s mouth falling open. Then impact shattered the tension and the joke, and they were laughing, and hugging, even, a long way too short squeeze, and Cordy was pulling back, and Xander found he didn’t really mind as she smoothed his hair and smiled sadly, proudly, at his one-eyed face.
“Maimed on the field of battle, huh?” she said. He nodded, shrugging it off, Atlas-like. “ ‘S’okay, handsome. I mean, look at me…” Hand still resting lightly, heavily on his arm, she looked away. “I died.”
The bottom fell out of the pit of Xander’s stomach. Or, actually, it became all pit. Endless, bottomless pit. The Pit of Eternal Doom kinda pit. Except without the funny hairy guy on the bridge asking stupid questions, so if you could just ask him about the migratory habits of…
“This isn’t just a dream, is it?” asked Xander, cutting off his internal monologue in mid swallow.
“Of course it is,” Cordy smiled back at him. “The best ones always are.”
“The best what are always whatnow?”
“42!” she shot back triumphantly, and for a moment his answering grin got to be big and painless.
For a moment. “You really aren’t gonna explain that one, huh?”
“Nope!” she sang, and wore a playful smirk. “Dreams ain’t really for knowin’, grasshopper.”
“And telling would be telling, and that’s no fun,” retorted Xander. “Which seems to go double if you’re Cordelia Chase.”
“I am…” she returned, and her breath caught, Xander didn’t quite know why. “And this is true,” she affirmed, the smirk firmly affixed once more.
Xander nodded, almost a bow, a deferral to the one and only Queen C. “But I know. I don’t know what I know, but I know. Somethin’. Which is somethin’, I guess…” He sighed and she chuckled. Her laughter punched his heart and brushed it all better, only he couldn’t work out in what order. “Ahh, dream logic,” he muttered. “It makes my brain in pain.”
“It’s life logic,” Cordy answered distantly. “It’s just at night it stops pretending to be anything else.” She was staring around their somewhat limited surroundings now, the brooms and mops and other assorted cleaning supplies so artfully arranged. “We always were all about the closet,” she said.
“But hey,” Xander shrugged. “We made it out in the end.”
Cordy was turned away now, to the wall with the high, bright little window. “We did?”
Xander’s mouth went dry again. If it ever hadn’t been dry since this all began, anyway. He couldn’t remember.
“For a little while…” he replied. “I…”
“I know,” Cordy cut him off quickly, performing a smiling perfect pirouette; and in the moment of her turning she glimmered in her prom dress.
Then she was back staring at the wall, in the shapely striped shirt Xander couldn’t remember seeing before this dream, and those tightly tight tan pants (hoo boy), and Xander was staring at her back. Watching her back…
“We’re okay with sorry,” she said. “No need to be sorry.” Clearly this was as far as Cordy wanted to take the subject, but Xander stepped up beside her anyway, struggled to catch her eye, to read her gaze. The dazzle of the pirouette had become an icy glitter.
“But maybe there are other things,” Xander said stubbornly, “that we should have let out into the light. And now we’ll never--”
“Maybe,” interrupted Cordy, no less obstinate. “And maybe we’ll be surprised.” She shrugged, chocolate curls dancing fetchingly, killingly. “No sense beating yourself up, handsome. Not anymore.”
Her hand was already reaching for handle of the closet door.
“You don’t think…” He worked his jaw, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. “Not especially now?”
“Especially not now.” Her grin was as sudden and blinding as the light beyond the opening door. “Unless your guilt is an excuse to buy me shoes?” she asked hopefully. “You know I never say no to shoes.”
Xander peered out into the low-budget SciFi whiteness, even as she looped her arm through his. One last time. “They have shoe stores out there?”
“No idea,” said Cordy, tugging at his elbow. “But I intend to find out!”
“And I can go with you?” asked Xander. “Even though I’m not…I mean, unless I’m already, and I missed it…good grief, I’m not…?!”
“Shush!” Cordy said firmly, pulling him gently over the threshold. “Of course you’re not. You’re just coming along to buy me shoes.”
“Well,” Xander huffed with relief. “That’s all right then.”
“And comic books,” added Cordy. “As long as you promise not to tell anyone.”
Xander smirked. “Didn’t we just leave the closet?”
“There are many closets, grasshopper. And still never enough shoes.”
“Or comics.”
“Or comics,” Cordy begrudged.
And she let Xander walk her into the light.
Fin.
Author: John Clifford
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Buffy Season 7; Angel "You're Welcome".
Summary: Cordy makes another stop on the road following 'You're Welcome', for one last reunion with Mr. Xander Harris...
Xander Harris fell asleep in Africa, and woke up in the janitor’s closet.
The janitor’s closet of Sunnydale High School, no less. And not even the New & Improved Sunnydale High, now with Added Hellmouthy Goodness. Or briefly with Added Hellmouthy Goodness, anyway. Before the Hellmouth itself was destroyed, taking the entire town of Sunnydale with it in a mucho de special effects implosion.
No, this was the original Sunnydale High, circa 1996-99.
“And the original janitor’s closet,” Xander murmured, sighing happily. “I spent some of my best class times in this closet!”
And a voice answered, “We SO needed to get out more.” Perhaps that dulcet sarcasm was inevitable-for what was the janitor’s closet without Cordelia Chase?
Xander blinked (or was it just considered a wink now? He hadn’t quite worked that one out yet). She was standing right behind him. He could feel her breath on his neck, all warm, and…and burn all your dictionaries ‘cause your fancy language can’t avail you now, buster, you’re just…help? But he couldn’t bring himself to turn, he wasn’t ready yet for her to see him only half-seeing, he wasn’t…
“Let you in on a little secret, junior,” she whispered in his ear, slipping her left arm through his right and giving him a gentle half turn. “Cyclops always was the sexiest X-Man.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, Xander’s mouth falling open. Then impact shattered the tension and the joke, and they were laughing, and hugging, even, a long way too short squeeze, and Cordy was pulling back, and Xander found he didn’t really mind as she smoothed his hair and smiled sadly, proudly, at his one-eyed face.
“Maimed on the field of battle, huh?” she said. He nodded, shrugging it off, Atlas-like. “ ‘S’okay, handsome. I mean, look at me…” Hand still resting lightly, heavily on his arm, she looked away. “I died.”
The bottom fell out of the pit of Xander’s stomach. Or, actually, it became all pit. Endless, bottomless pit. The Pit of Eternal Doom kinda pit. Except without the funny hairy guy on the bridge asking stupid questions, so if you could just ask him about the migratory habits of…
“This isn’t just a dream, is it?” asked Xander, cutting off his internal monologue in mid swallow.
“Of course it is,” Cordy smiled back at him. “The best ones always are.”
“The best what are always whatnow?”
“42!” she shot back triumphantly, and for a moment his answering grin got to be big and painless.
For a moment. “You really aren’t gonna explain that one, huh?”
“Nope!” she sang, and wore a playful smirk. “Dreams ain’t really for knowin’, grasshopper.”
“And telling would be telling, and that’s no fun,” retorted Xander. “Which seems to go double if you’re Cordelia Chase.”
“I am…” she returned, and her breath caught, Xander didn’t quite know why. “And this is true,” she affirmed, the smirk firmly affixed once more.
Xander nodded, almost a bow, a deferral to the one and only Queen C. “But I know. I don’t know what I know, but I know. Somethin’. Which is somethin’, I guess…” He sighed and she chuckled. Her laughter punched his heart and brushed it all better, only he couldn’t work out in what order. “Ahh, dream logic,” he muttered. “It makes my brain in pain.”
“It’s life logic,” Cordy answered distantly. “It’s just at night it stops pretending to be anything else.” She was staring around their somewhat limited surroundings now, the brooms and mops and other assorted cleaning supplies so artfully arranged. “We always were all about the closet,” she said.
“But hey,” Xander shrugged. “We made it out in the end.”
Cordy was turned away now, to the wall with the high, bright little window. “We did?”
Xander’s mouth went dry again. If it ever hadn’t been dry since this all began, anyway. He couldn’t remember.
“For a little while…” he replied. “I…”
“I know,” Cordy cut him off quickly, performing a smiling perfect pirouette; and in the moment of her turning she glimmered in her prom dress.
Then she was back staring at the wall, in the shapely striped shirt Xander couldn’t remember seeing before this dream, and those tightly tight tan pants (hoo boy), and Xander was staring at her back. Watching her back…
“We’re okay with sorry,” she said. “No need to be sorry.” Clearly this was as far as Cordy wanted to take the subject, but Xander stepped up beside her anyway, struggled to catch her eye, to read her gaze. The dazzle of the pirouette had become an icy glitter.
“But maybe there are other things,” Xander said stubbornly, “that we should have let out into the light. And now we’ll never--”
“Maybe,” interrupted Cordy, no less obstinate. “And maybe we’ll be surprised.” She shrugged, chocolate curls dancing fetchingly, killingly. “No sense beating yourself up, handsome. Not anymore.”
Her hand was already reaching for handle of the closet door.
“You don’t think…” He worked his jaw, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. “Not especially now?”
“Especially not now.” Her grin was as sudden and blinding as the light beyond the opening door. “Unless your guilt is an excuse to buy me shoes?” she asked hopefully. “You know I never say no to shoes.”
Xander peered out into the low-budget SciFi whiteness, even as she looped her arm through his. One last time. “They have shoe stores out there?”
“No idea,” said Cordy, tugging at his elbow. “But I intend to find out!”
“And I can go with you?” asked Xander. “Even though I’m not…I mean, unless I’m already, and I missed it…good grief, I’m not…?!”
“Shush!” Cordy said firmly, pulling him gently over the threshold. “Of course you’re not. You’re just coming along to buy me shoes.”
“Well,” Xander huffed with relief. “That’s all right then.”
“And comic books,” added Cordy. “As long as you promise not to tell anyone.”
Xander smirked. “Didn’t we just leave the closet?”
“There are many closets, grasshopper. And still never enough shoes.”
“Or comics.”
“Or comics,” Cordy begrudged.
And she let Xander walk her into the light.
Fin.