i also write sometimes
And sometimes, I write words that sort of make sense. And then I share them amongst my tribe post them online.
I wanted to write something for the still_grr prompt, so I sat down and did just that. Kind of. The theme is love, but love's a tricky thing, as demonstrated below.
And now I present what is quite possibly the second strangest pairing I've written.
Cliché title is cliché.
After Sunnydale, Xander hugs everybody and takes down numbers and promises to call. Willow pretends not to cry, and Dawn makes him pinky-swear to email weekly. Then he gets on a plane and ends up in Africa.
He's never been out of America, and predictably he gets lost his first day out. Then he gets sand in his eye. And then, icing on the cake, Ethan shows up.
It's been years since Xander's even heard the sorcerer's name. And the sorcerer in question is supposed to be in prison. Xander is understandably confused. Maybe it's the heat.
Several furious blinks later, he clears his eye of sand. And no-Ethan really is there, looking at him with a lopsided smirk.
“Well?”
“What?”
“No love for your old pal?”
“Um. You were in jail.”
“Got out.”
“And you tried to kill my friends.”
“In all fairness-” Ethan stopped, and tilted his head at the boy. “You used to have two of those.”
Xander scowls. “Lost one.” Brushing past the sorcerer, he quickly turns a corner and then ducks into a cafe. All these years, and his military knowledge is still there. And he has Ethan to thank for that. The irony makes him smile a little. Or was irony the one with the crocodiles?
“That's what I like to see.” Ethan's reappeared, a stray refusing to drop a bone.
“Giles isn't here, you know.”
“Off with his slayer, then?” Ethan presses a hand on Xander's shoulder, guiding him to a chair at a table for two. Xander reluctantly allows himself to be seated, and tries not to look surprised at Ethan's next words.
“I'm not here for him, actually.”
“I don't believe you.”
“I'm here for you.”
“I-what?” Xander becomes aware that Ethan's hand is still on his shoulder. Actually, more on his arm now. He tenses, and straightens in the chair. The man blinks slowly in a way that reminds Xander of a cat, and he forgets what he was going to say. He settles for another confused “What?”
Xander hasn't said anything funny, but Ethan laughs. One of those 'I-know-something-you-don't' laughs, where his eyes crinkle a bit and his eyes drop to his lap. Then he glances up.
“You looked a bit lost, wandering around back there. I'm certainly not a most charitable soul-”
“Amen to that.”
The crooked smirk returns to Ethan's face. “But, I know my way around, and I thought I'd lend a hand.” Ethan narrows his eyes, and peruses Xander from across the table. The younger man shifts in his seat, letting go of his straight-backed pose and trying to shake the feeling that he was being drawn into something. Something bad. Like a tornado.
He glances back to Ethan, who's sitting there calm and cool. No storm. Yet there's something there, stirring. Xander isn't sure he cares for it.
“I knew another lost boy, once upon a time.” Ethan leaned back in his chair. His skin's tanned, which reminds Xander that he has to pick up sunscreen. The back of his neck already burns a bit, and he rubs at it.
“Story for another day, hm?” Another smile, and Xander remembers that cat from Alice and Wonderland. This smile's different, though. A warm breeze to break the collected cool. The threat of thunder just distant enough to lull him into a false sense of safety.
“So,” Ethan leans forward. “How do you like the continent?'
Xander lifts his head enough so he can look down at Ethan. He's a bit too close-has been, in fact, ever since he showed up. He's close enough for Xander to recognize the taste of Chaos, and the faded scent of aftershave. Ethan's smile's still there in the curve of his upper lip, and the slant of one eyebrow.
Still watching the boy, Ethan summons-perhaps all too literally-a server to their table and asks for some water. Ethan draws back a bit. “Maybe a bit hot for your American tastes?”
Xander rubs one hand lightly over the eye patch, thinking. The whole exchange has knocked him off his game, whatever that might be. Right now he's not so sure. And Ethan, for all his apparent passivity, is pulling at him on some level. Tugging him into the storm with breezy smiles and odd angles. It's different, and it's a change, and maybe that what Xander needs.
“No,” he replies. Their water is set upon the table, but neither man looks.
“No. It's just fine.”
___________________________________
I wanted to write more. I might, in the future. Should I?
I wanted to write something for the still_grr prompt, so I sat down and did just that. Kind of. The theme is love, but love's a tricky thing, as demonstrated below.
And now I present what is quite possibly the second strangest pairing I've written.
Cliché title is cliché.
After Sunnydale, Xander hugs everybody and takes down numbers and promises to call. Willow pretends not to cry, and Dawn makes him pinky-swear to email weekly. Then he gets on a plane and ends up in Africa.
He's never been out of America, and predictably he gets lost his first day out. Then he gets sand in his eye. And then, icing on the cake, Ethan shows up.
It's been years since Xander's even heard the sorcerer's name. And the sorcerer in question is supposed to be in prison. Xander is understandably confused. Maybe it's the heat.
Several furious blinks later, he clears his eye of sand. And no-Ethan really is there, looking at him with a lopsided smirk.
“Well?”
“What?”
“No love for your old pal?”
“Um. You were in jail.”
“Got out.”
“And you tried to kill my friends.”
“In all fairness-” Ethan stopped, and tilted his head at the boy. “You used to have two of those.”
Xander scowls. “Lost one.” Brushing past the sorcerer, he quickly turns a corner and then ducks into a cafe. All these years, and his military knowledge is still there. And he has Ethan to thank for that. The irony makes him smile a little. Or was irony the one with the crocodiles?
“That's what I like to see.” Ethan's reappeared, a stray refusing to drop a bone.
“Giles isn't here, you know.”
“Off with his slayer, then?” Ethan presses a hand on Xander's shoulder, guiding him to a chair at a table for two. Xander reluctantly allows himself to be seated, and tries not to look surprised at Ethan's next words.
“I'm not here for him, actually.”
“I don't believe you.”
“I'm here for you.”
“I-what?” Xander becomes aware that Ethan's hand is still on his shoulder. Actually, more on his arm now. He tenses, and straightens in the chair. The man blinks slowly in a way that reminds Xander of a cat, and he forgets what he was going to say. He settles for another confused “What?”
Xander hasn't said anything funny, but Ethan laughs. One of those 'I-know-something-you-don't' laughs, where his eyes crinkle a bit and his eyes drop to his lap. Then he glances up.
“You looked a bit lost, wandering around back there. I'm certainly not a most charitable soul-”
“Amen to that.”
The crooked smirk returns to Ethan's face. “But, I know my way around, and I thought I'd lend a hand.” Ethan narrows his eyes, and peruses Xander from across the table. The younger man shifts in his seat, letting go of his straight-backed pose and trying to shake the feeling that he was being drawn into something. Something bad. Like a tornado.
He glances back to Ethan, who's sitting there calm and cool. No storm. Yet there's something there, stirring. Xander isn't sure he cares for it.
“I knew another lost boy, once upon a time.” Ethan leaned back in his chair. His skin's tanned, which reminds Xander that he has to pick up sunscreen. The back of his neck already burns a bit, and he rubs at it.
“Story for another day, hm?” Another smile, and Xander remembers that cat from Alice and Wonderland. This smile's different, though. A warm breeze to break the collected cool. The threat of thunder just distant enough to lull him into a false sense of safety.
“So,” Ethan leans forward. “How do you like the continent?'
Xander lifts his head enough so he can look down at Ethan. He's a bit too close-has been, in fact, ever since he showed up. He's close enough for Xander to recognize the taste of Chaos, and the faded scent of aftershave. Ethan's smile's still there in the curve of his upper lip, and the slant of one eyebrow.
Still watching the boy, Ethan summons-perhaps all too literally-a server to their table and asks for some water. Ethan draws back a bit. “Maybe a bit hot for your American tastes?”
Xander rubs one hand lightly over the eye patch, thinking. The whole exchange has knocked him off his game, whatever that might be. Right now he's not so sure. And Ethan, for all his apparent passivity, is pulling at him on some level. Tugging him into the storm with breezy smiles and odd angles. It's different, and it's a change, and maybe that what Xander needs.
“No,” he replies. Their water is set upon the table, but neither man looks.
“No. It's just fine.”
___________________________________
I wanted to write more. I might, in the future. Should I?