More older FIC--BTVS/AtS this time
Continuing my recent drive to get all my fic in one place, here's an old BTVS/AtS fic.
Title: Yet to Nature True
Author: Lil
Pairing: Angel/Xander; X/other males. SLASH
Rating: Adult
Words: 28,050 (which is why this is split into 3 parts)
Summary: A move to LA brings all sort of new developments for Xander.
Feedback: Gives me a happy :)
Disclaimer: These characters are the creation of Joss Whedon and belong to him and Mutant Enemy, plus many other corporations. Basically, they belong to lots of people who are not me.*sigh*
Notes: I'd like to place mounds of virtual gold at the feet of my awesomely terrific betas, J Calanthe, Joey, Rune, and Shamenka. They're fabulous and provided invaluable help for this story and generous encouragement for me.*hugs* Thank you!
This story was originally posted to the Net in early 2001; it's currently archived at MIB, as well. This goes AU from the end of Season 1 of AtS and end of S4 of BTVS.
Yet to Nature True
By Lil
[Time: Jan, 2002]
"Spill."
"Huh?"
"Whatever's been pushing you down here every week. Spill." They'd been sitting on her couch drinking coffee for almost half an hour. It was Xander's third visit to L.A. in as many weeks, and Cordelia was getting tired of guessing what was on his mind. At this point, the break-up with Anya was way old news, so that couldn't be it. She knew he wasn't here to get back together with her, so that was out, too. Expectantly, she waited.
Xander eyed her, whole body wary. Must be big. He wasn't denying, and he wasn't talking. That equaled a great, fat BIG.
"I'm bi."
She blinked. Ok, that lived up to the hype. Mostly. "Ok."
His turn to blink, stare, and blink some more. "That's it? Just ok?"
"You wanted a scene? I can totally do a scene. No rehearsal required, I'm ready to go--" Effect achieved, he was smiling.
"We can skip, really. Calm is good. Although I was expecting this little chat to have more scene-like qualities."
"Is there a sequel?"
"Well, kind of. I'm sort of thinkingofreallydoingsomethingaboutthegaypart."
Cordelia nodded, long since versed in Nervous-Xander speak. "As in... what? Get a T-shirt, get an earring, get a boyfriend?"
"Press or say 3."
"Ok, so, do you have anyone in mind? Oh, wait, I know the perfect guy--he's in my acting class and he's really cute, and totally gay. Terrific sense of humor--we've gone shopping, he has excellent taste and could really bring something to the relationship--"
The panic in his eyes more than his hasty, "Cor!" made her stop. She immediately turned serious. "Are you ok with being bi?"
"Yeah. Mostly. But not in Sunnydale." He swirled his coffee, "I'm thinking of moving, maybe New York, or San Francisco."
"You don't know anyone in New York or San Francisco."
"Which is a point in their favor."
"Did you get a scene back home?"
"No. I'm thinking it's because I haven't told anybody but you."
"Why? Willow's still doing the lesbian thing with that witch chick, Tara, right? And you can't tell me Giles has never given it all for the home team. The man has 'experimented with my sexuality' written all over--"
"I know all that, ok. I know. But it's different for me. It is for guys, it just is."
"It's Buffy, isn't it?"
He paused, looked down. Nodded once.
"She coped with Willow."
"Yeah, but Will said she did the freak thing when she first told her. And I can totally see the way it would go. I go in, try and have a serious conversation with her about this, and she'd totally--"
"Laugh," Cordelia finished for him. "That's what you're afraid of, isn't it? That she's gonna laugh."
Xander was silent for a moment, then nodded again. "And she would, you know. She and Will have gotten better since we had this whole big fight right before we unplugged that Frankenstein reject, Adam, but it's still there. I know I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. And this is hard enough without either one of them pulling an 'I'm so superior' routine."
Cordelia appraised him for a moment, then mentally shrugged, he was as ready to hear this as he ever would be. "It would probably help if you didn't buy it."
He frowned. She met his eyes, her own level and serious. "Xander, that's how it works. Someone can act superior, but it only works if everyone else buys it. It's just like popularity--which I'm an expert on, if I do say so myself."
The frown deepened.
She went into lecture mode, unconsciously imitating Giles, but in her own way, of course. "Look, you have to start with something--it can be a real thing, like looks or money, or it can be a made up thing, like 'cool' or 'mystery' or whatever. But for it to work, other people have to buy it, and build that pedestal for you to stand on. You can't put yourself up there."
"But I didn't--"
"You did. You and Willow, and me, and Oz, and even Giles and Angel. When Buffy came, she was this Slayer. One Chosen Girl in all the world, blah blah blah... And yeah, that gives her an edge when we're off doing the slaying thing, but c'mon--she's no older than us. But every time something evil came to town, we asked her what to do. A 240 year-old vampire and a 40-something Watcher were asking a 16 year-old what to do. Like, Hello--teenager, not master military strategist or whatever."
He made as if to argue, and she held up a hand, stopped him. "Look, she got the job done, I'm not saying she didn't. But part of why she did was because we believed in her. Her plans weren't like, genius or anything. 'Let's blow up the big bad demon.' Not exactly Einstein material. It's not like Angel and Giles or you and me couldn't have come up with the same thing. But we let her do it. We expect her to do it. It's a whole cycle thing: you think someone can do something, they get lucky and do it, and then they believe they can which means they probably will again, which makes you and them believe even more... And ta-da: superiority."
"Or popularity."
She shrugged, "Same thing. Harmony, Aura and I couldn't have made ourselves the in-crowd without some help. Even the people who hated us believed in us, even if it was only a little bit, they thought we had a right to act the way we did, like we really were better than them." She gave him a grin, trying to lighten the air a bit, "Still don't know how I slipped up with you. Must be the Hellmouth."
He watched her for a second more, then shook his head, his eyes sad, and gentle, but said, "Must be."
He drank his coffee, taking a few, long moments to consider what she'd told him, then nodded, "Ok, you're right. Everything you said. So how do I not do that anymore? Is it like, now I know and knowing is half the battle or what?"
"I wish. Doesn't work that way. But it starts when you think about them as people, who make mistakes, who aren't perfect. And who aren't any better than you are."
"I knew there was a catch."
She took his hand, squeezed. Pulled him in to a hug and wished that was enough to make it better.
****
2 months later....
Xander walked into the bar, scanning the crowd surreptitiously, making little eye contact as he meandered over to the main counter. It was fairly early yet for a Thursday night, and there were empty stools around towards the back, where he secured himself a spot. The bartender made his way over a few minutes later, and Xander ordered a beer. The guy carded him, but no worries, he was legal now. The man nodded and smiled, brought the draft, offered to start a tab. Xander nodded. He was here to stay for at least a couple of hours, dammit.
He drank that first one too fast, but he needed to get his courage up. He'd moved to L.A. a couple of months earlier, and had learned of this bar's existence within his first ten days. It had taken him several more weeks to get up the nerve to actually walk in. He felt so exposed. Way more than in the strip club where he'd first fumbled his way through the gay side of his sex life. But that was its own little world. No one judged at all--and even if they had, he had no plans to stay. He felt like he could do anything. Here, though... here was a lot more permanent. A lot more "out."
He half-wished he'd taken Cordy up on her escort offer, but he was wired enough as it was, having his ex for audience as he made his first foray into the L.A. gay scene would have pushed him over the edge for sure. He hadn't told her he was coming tonight, made sure to bring a change of clothes to the health club where he worked, and headed here directly. He most definitely did not want her showing up uninvited.
Signaling for a second beer, he figured he should do more than stare at the dark wood of the bar and see what a great contrast it made to the pale ale he was guzzling. //You're just here to unwind, check out the scene a little. You're cool.// He'd been repeating that to himself ever since he'd gotten within sight of the bar. He was sure the confidence was going to kick in any minute now. Any second. //Yeah, right.//
Doing a mental eye roll, he forced himself to look up and at least scan the other people sitting along the bar. At the far end across from him was some exec who probably worked in the entertainment industry. Cordelia had tutored him well. The giveaways: the man had the big smile of a car salesman but more expensive clothes. Two of the hipper than hip were a few stools down, very clearly having a grand ole time, likely at everyone else's expense. He did not want to know what they were saying about him. After that a twenty-something like himself, clean cut, maybe a college student. Sandy brown hair, looked only a shade less nervous than he felt. Yup, another newbie.
The guy looked up and caught him watching, looked a little more nervous at first, but offered a tentative smile. Xander felt himself do the same, even managed a slight nod before both experienced an abrupt loss of courage and went back to their respective beers.
But Xander made a mental note. Someone new, like himself, he could approach and talk to. Of course, the whole point of this little outing //mental wince// was to meet someone who might actually know what he was doing. L.A. was perfect for that. Bright lights, big city--no wait, that's New York--doesn't matter, same principle; big, anonymous town, where only a few people know your name and even less care, was just the right place to try something new. And he was oh-so ready for something new.
Getting Cordy involved was not part of the original plan, but after they talked she'd offered. Somehow one week's temporary stay had turned into two months and shared rent. Cordelia would never cease to amaze him, and he felt lucky to have her in his life again. It had taken years to get back to this kind of friendship. This time he wouldn't blow it.
He was more than a little relieved to have someone to talk with about this, actually. Despite what Cordelia had told him, there was still no way he could talk with anyone else from Sunnydale. Willow would be all Willowy and supportive, welcoming him to the club like it was the scouts or something. She'd insist on doing "gay" things together. And there would be buttons, lots of buttons, maybe crystals, too, although that was more of a Wicca thing. Buffy--for a second he blanked, then shuddered. He really didn't want to know what Buffy would do, or say, if she didn't laugh. Eventually, he was more or less sure that she would be ok with it. But before she was, Psych 101 would rear its ugly head and there would be questions. Willow didn't get questions but he would get questions. Probably theories, too. He didn't want that. This was just the way he was, no need to write a term paper about it.
Frankly, he was a little scared to talk with Giles. There are lots and lots of things that you never really want to know about your only positive father figure. His happy stock of gay memories and coming out tips topped the list of "not in this lifetime" as far as Xander was concerned. It still gave him major wiggins to think of Giles and his "orgasm friend."
Suddenly he noticed fingers in front of his face. He looked up into a pair of amused blue eyes in a face marked by a smile and smattering of freckles.
"Huh? Wha--Lin? Oh my god!"
The other man smiled wider, "It's good to see you, too, Alex. What brings you down?"
"I moved here a little while ago. I didn't think you'd still be in town, it's been what--"
"Over two years."
"Yeah." Xander shook himself. "So, what have you been doing?"
"Same old same old," he shrugged, but held up his right arm, "Except for this."
Xander stared for a moment, swallowing heavily as he looked at the molded plastic where a flesh and blood hand should be. "What happened?"
"Thief." Anger burned in the blue eyes for a moment, but faded as Xander looked back up at him.
"Thief?! What, is L.A. trying to recapture those Aztec glory days?"
Lin almost grinned at that. "Not quite. My... bad luck to be a trendsetter."
"I hope he's rotting," Xander said sincerely.
This time he did grin, "Not yet. But I'm working on it."
Xander shook his head. "I'm sure you are." He knew Lindsey had a ruthless streak in him, though after something like this, anyone would.
"Enough about me, what have you been up to? Aside from the big move."
Eyeing the other man's trim physique and killer dimples, Xander took a mental leap (accompanied by an echoing Geronimoooo!) and flashed him a grin, "Getting older."
Lindsey smiled back. They had met when the younger man worked in a strip club near Oxnard. He'd been very attracted to the kid, had even made some moves on him, before finding out how young he was. Not quite jailbait, but close enough. Not worth the risk for a one night stand, which was all he could allow himself then. In those days, Lindsey had been more circumspect about his choice of partners, had always taken care not to be seen in town with anyone. He'd had to. But not anymore. Moving up and knowing where the bodies were buried had its perks.
Lindsey had never quite forgotten about him. And now he was here, and he wasn't so young anymore. He'd filled out nicely, he noted, giving the other man a thorough once-over. And the shyly reckless grin was just as tempting as ever, especially paired with that cute blush. "You hungry?" Lindsey asked.
Xander nodded, grinned, "Always."
They took their beers to a corner booth along with some burgers. The conversation flowed, and after a somewhat awkward period when the food had first arrived, the other man didn't make a fuss over his missing hand. And it was clear that Alex still found him attractive. Good. Lindsey kept the pace casual, easy, carefully gauging the younger man's reaction. Everything would be just right this time around.
Xander visibly started when he happened to glance towards the bar and saw the 11 o'clock news ending. "I didn't realize it was that late."
"Time flies when you're having fun. At least I hope you were having fun."
"Having fun," Xander said, smiling at him.
Lindsey grinned back, stretching and not-quite subtly sliding his hand across the table to where Xander was resting his. Bright blue eyes held brown for an over-long moment.
Reading the intent in those eyes Xander swallowed heavily, straightened. Danger Will Robinson! Maybe not Apocalypse now danger, but maybe a little more was expected than he was ready to give.
Lindsey saw the tension immediately. "What?"
"I-uhm..." Xander cast about through the beer for the right way to say this. Giving that up as hopeless, he settled for the blunt truth, "Ok, here's the thing. You're attractive. I mean you know that, right. But see... I'm--I never--since, you know, then, I haven't..." He stared at the table and tried again, "I'm still new to this whole... thing. Way, way new. I--if you just want a--to--a--"
"Fuck?" Lindsey finished for him.
Xander colored, "Yeah. Well, if that's what you want, I--I--I'm not--"
"Alex, I don't trick in bathrooms anymore. You're not the only one who's gotten older. You're attractive. I thought so then, and I wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't think so now. We can go as slow as you need."
Still blushing, Xander murmured, "Thanks."
"Can I give you a ride home?"
"I have wheels, home's not too far."
"You sure you're ok to drive?"
"Yeah," Xander replied, "I'm sure. Thanks."
"Can I walk you out?"
Xander smiled, getting the weird feeling he was finding out how the other half lived. "Yeah."
They got up together, having settled the check earlier. Lindsey walked him to his scooter, made no comments on it, his attention very definitely focused on Xander. More specifically Xander's mouth. Xander could almost feel the burn from the stare. Wet his lips instinctively. Saw Lindsey follow that, too. A second later they were kissing. Hot, hungry. Man, he remembered this with his whole body. He felt Lindsey slip his arms around his back, felt his hands rest on the curve of his ass, slipped his own hands under Lindsey's tailored jacket and over wrinkled, slightly sweaty pin-stripe cotton. Came up for air to feel a nuzzling at his neck, closed his eyes as tiny kisses were planted along his jaw before his mouth was claimed again. Pulled away slowly, the movements heavy and thick. Heard breathing as harsh as his own over pounding in his ears.
"Did they teach you that in law school?" he managed a few beats later.
Lindsey grinned again, "Nope, pure natural talent."
Xander grinned, too, "Not so sure about pure, but talent, definitely."
"Have dinner with me Saturday."
Xander swallowed. Blinked. "Ok."
"Where can I reach you?"
They exchanged numbers. Xander gave him the work number--no way did he want this message on his home machine; Lindsey gave his cell.
"See you Saturday, then."
"Saturday."
Lindsey just looked at his face for a long moment more, then kissed him again, hard and quick, and waved good night. Xander watched him go, lips burning, a half smile on his face. Not bad for a first night out.
****
3 1/2 Weeks Later...
Xander lounged on the couch, only half listening as Wesley and Angel bitched about a recent set back at the hands of Wolfram & Hart. Xander was as upset, but didn't see the use in dwelling on it--it was over, battle lost, let's move on. Besides, he had a date tonight he would not have to cancel after all, and he was looking forward to it.
"At least this time it wasn't that weasel, Lindsey. I hate him," Cordelia grouched from her seat by the computer. "Like he can really pull off those jackets."
Xander sat up abruptly. Barely managed to keep in a very startled exclamation. Kept additional movement down to two blinks and a stare at his roommate. "Who?" he asked with forced casualness.
"One of the flunkies at W&H. We usually get him or that chick--great hair, no conscience, go figure. This time it was someone new, Tony Mathers or something."
"Mathers," Angel confirmed, looking unhappy as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
Xander was still trying very hard not to freak. There was a tiny, desperate hope inside him that they were talking about another Lindsey who was a lawyer. //Uh-huh. I'll take long odds off a short pier for 1000.// "Just for my own personal enlightenment--who are the 'usual' folks at this root-of-all-evil law firm? This Tony guy, and you said Lindsey..."
"Yeah, Lindsey McDonald. And Lilah Morgan and the uber-weasel, Holland Manners."
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit! "I see. So they're all corrupt and of the Bad."
"The Very Bad," Cordy agreed. "We're still ahead, though."
"They're gaining," Wesley said, frowning.
"We'll whip their asses next time," Cordelia said blithely. "Smoothie, anyone?" She'd just purchased a juicer/blender for the office--a cappuccino machine was just too unhealthy, fattening, and de-classe (the three deadly sins)--and was eager to use it.
The three men declined, but she flitted away to make one for herself. Angel retreated into his office, and Wesley was about to return some of their weapons to the closets downstairs. Xander put on a smile, "Can I give you a hand there, Wesley?"
**
The former Watcher raised a brow but wasn't about to turn down help. Never mind that this was the very first time Xander had offered to do anything for him that didn't directly involve one of their cases. Maybe he was finally winning the boy over. They went down the stairs in silence, and silently walked to Angel's storage closet. Silently put the weapons away. Wesley turned to leave, knowing full well that Xander would stop him. He was getting better at reading people, and the boy's nervous tension was plain to see.
"Uhm, Wesley, can I talk to you for a sec?"
"Of course, Xander."
"You might want to sit down for this one."
"Oh?" he said, making his way to Angel's living room couch.
Xander nodded, waited until he sat. "See... I'm kinda, well, totally... bi."
"Oh." Not exactly the sort of talk that he would have expected to have with Xander but he couldn't deny he felt flattered by the boy's trust in him. "Well I'm sure that--"
"No, that's not it. I'm ok with the whole bi-thing, Cordy knows, and I'm working on how to tell everyone else back home."
"Oh, right," he said, managing not to sound disappointed. Another possibility occurred to him and he once again felt flattered, although a touch alarmed by the prospect, "Uh, Xander, do you want to discuss some feelings..."
The boy stared at him blankly for a moment, then his eyes widened, "No! I mean, yes, but not about you."
"Oh, uhm, all right. So what--"
"I met someone. A few weeks ago," he frowned a bit, "Well, more like re-met someone."
"Ah, yes. Delia mentioned that you were starting to date, and was very mysterious about with whom. Unusual for her, now I know why. I take it it's a young man?"
"You take right. But here's the thing. And I swear I had no idea... I mean you guys just said the name of the firm, you didn't run all the credits, and I'm Mr. No-Superpowers here, no mindreading or visions--"
"Xander," Wesley interrupted firmly, "Let's get back to the 'thing.'"
"The thing. Right. The thing. Well, the thing is, well, the guy, it's Lindsey."
"Lindsey?" He couldn't have heard right. The boy gave an unhappy nod. No, surely not. "Lindsey McDonald, of Wolfram & Hart?"
Another nod, even more unhappy. Good Lord.
"Does he know who you are?"
"I don't think so. I told him my name is Alex Lavelle, it's the name I use at work--I was using it the first time he met me, too. And he only has my work number."
"The first time?"
"Summer after graduation," Xander told him, eyes firmly on the floor, hands fiddling with the edge of his green overshirt. "You know I, uh, was gonna do the Kerouac thing, but, uh... the car broke down... I ended up working at a, uhm, strip club. We... met there."
"I see." Although he didn't, not really, but that particular point could wait. "Have you discussed any of our cases with him?"
"Yeah, Wes, I tell all my dates I fight demons in my spare time."
"Right, sorry, stupid question. Has he...?"
Xander shot him another look, "Not real big on his agenda either." Xander blinked and went still, something obviously occurring to him, "His hand--did--Angel did that, didn't he?"
"Yes. Right after Lindsey succeeded in summoning Darla back."
Xander ran a hand over his face, "Heard about that one." He laughed, a sound with absolutely no joy in it. "What the fuck do I do?"
"You must break it off."
"Let's file that under incredibly obvious, Dr. Duh," Xander snapped. Wesley winced a bit and Xander must have seen it, took a breath, "Sorry. It's just... I'm real clear on the 'break up with evil lawyer' concept. How do I do it without becoming demon food?"
Wesley frowned. "I see your dilemma. How, uhm, serious have you been?"
"Nothing too major," Xander said, blushing only a little. "We've been taking it slow."
"That's good, perhaps you can simply break it off as you would a normal relationship. Tell him you're no longer interested, found someone else, that sort of thing. Whatever you think might work best."
"What if he doesn't buy it?"
Wesley opened his mouth, closed it. "I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "Lindsey's conducted himself with a bit more... well, compassion's probably too strong a word but a bit, uhm, better than--"
"The other demon-lovin', people-killing pricks at W&H?" Xander supplied sarcastically. "You're not helping." He sat down abruptly, head in his hands.
And Wesley realized there were two people in that relationship, and that "taking it slow" might be more indicative of deeper feelings than the opposite.
"I'm sorry, Xander." It was awkward, and pitifully inadequate, but it was all one could say.
Xander nodded, took a deep breath, obviously forced himself to smile, though his eyes were glassy. Damn, there were deeper feelings there.
"Thanks. And thanks for not judging."
"You didn't know."
"I'll do it tonight."
"If you need to... talk, afterwards..."
"Thanks. I might take you up on that." Xander stood. "Don't tell Cordy, ok? I'll end up telling her eventually, but I just can't do it right now."
"You have my word."
Xander nodded. "Deadboy doesn't know anything, I'd kinda like to keep it that way. I mean it's business but it's not, you know?"
"This stays between us."
"Thanks, Wes."
"Do you want me to come with you... be waiting somewhere nearby?"
"I don't think he'll make a scene. Not his style, and definitely not good for the firm. I'll be ok."
Wesley hesitated, but had to say, "You might want to think about a new job. If he... takes it badly."
A jerky nod from Xander, bitter smile. "Can I pick 'em or what?"
There was really no answer to that.
****
Xander sat at the bar of the restaurant where he was supposed to meet Lindsey for dinner. He had been nursing a single beer for over an hour. He'd arrived very early. Right on time, Lindsey sauntered in, a big smile on his face. Xander wondered if it had something to do with the demon drug dealers that had gotten off that afternoon, thanks to missing evidence from the police lock-up. Was Wolfram & Hart like a regular law firm? Did they have cocktail parties to celebrate a big win? What were the hors d'oeuvres like when most of your clientele probably liked to eat the employees? //And I so need to find other hobbies.//
"Alex, hi," Lindsey leaned in for a kiss, Xander moved his head slightly so that it missed his mouth. Lindsey frowned, "Am I late, have you been waiting long?"
"No." He gulped the last of his beer, "We, uh, need to talk."
"Talk?" Lindsey's tone was carefully neutral.
"Yeah. Booth?"
Slightly wary, Lindsey nodded.
They found an empty booth near the door. It was just 7 pm. Most of the dinner crowd wouldn't arrive until 8. Lindsey had set up dinner a bit early so they could catch a Lakers game afterwards. He said it was a company perk. The more Xander thought about it, the more it made him sick. Lindsey touched his shoulder, Xander couldn't help moving away. Lindsey dropped his hand and slid into the booth across from him.
"What's up?" Lindsey said, eyes watchful though his tone was light.
"I've been thinking... you know, we're really very different people. You're a hot-shot lawyer, I'm just a glorified pool boy. You did the whole college thing, think big thoughts and all, fancy cars, company perks... me, pretty much no to all of that...we're way off-balance. I'm sorry I wasted your time--"
"Stop." Lindsey didn't raise his voice but there was plenty of force behind the word. "I do get paid a lot of money to think big thoughts and cut through the bull and that was a load and a half."
Time for track number two. "I met someone else."
That stopped Lindsey for a second and he stared at Xander intently. Xander did his best to meet the gaze, but in the end couldn't quite manage it. "Load number two. Can we avoid number three? What's this really about? We were fine yesterday. I thought--" he reached for Xander's hand, which scurried back and under the table. "Alex?"
Xander took a deep breath. "I know where you work."
Lindsey froze just a little bit. "What?"
"I know where you work. And who--what--you work for."
Lindsey settled against the wooden back of the booth, eyeing him carefully, face completely closed, the very antithesis of the man Xander had grown to know these past weeks. "I was going to talk to you about that, soon, Alex. I know there are a lot of crazy rumors in this town. It's just that kind of place. A smart man ignores them."
"Then I guess I'm not that smart."
"I don't know what you think you know--"
"Please don't," Xander said, weary and sad instead of forceful, unlike Lindsey's earlier command, but the other man paused. "I told you I'm from a small town up north, right? I never mentioned the name, cuz I figured you wouldn't have any reason to know it." Xander looked him straight in the eye. "I was born and raised in Sunnydale. High school class of '99." He was watching closely, saw Lindsey process the information, make some connections. "It was a hell of a graduation." Absolutely no humor intended.
"I remember reading something about that," Lindsey said cautiously. "There was some kind of explosion or something during that graduation."
"Yeah, there was."
"I had nothing to do with that."
"I know."
"You may think you know, but--"
"I know."
"Who have you been talking to? Old pals from your high school class? Someone from the ole hometown? Alex, I don't know anything about Sunnydale, but I do know L.A., and there is a lot more to this story--maybe even some things that you wouldn't believe, that I hoped would never touch your life--"
"My life's been 'touched' for a while now."
"He's not what he says he is."
"I know everything about what he is."
Lindsey blinked rapidly, a name popping up in his mental files. "Xander Harris."
Xander said nothing. Lindsey felt an instant of suspicion: had the whole relationship been a set up? Dismissed it the next. There was no way that strip club had been a set up. And he'd been the one to initiate and pursue contact here. Plus Alex--Xander--had never asked him a thing about work, never given him anything that might conceal a listening device or a tracker. If he was a plant, the last thing he should be doing right now was revealing himself before getting any real information. And that meant this was legit, Xander was legit. If he really did know everything...
"Alex, the world is not black and white. There are more shades of grey than any of us like to admit. But that also means there are a lot of opportunities, very lucrative opportunities, for people intelligent enough to seize them."
As soon as he said the words, he knew he'd made a fatal mistake. And it hurt far more than anything had in years.
Xander looked at him with a mixture of bitter self-mockery, pain, and a degree or two of disgust. "We've already covered my lack of smarts. I told you. We're very different people."
"Alex--"
"Xander."
"Xander then."
"Look. You're right, there is more grey out there than we-I might like. And 99% of the time, I'm cool with that. What consenting adults choose to do with their 24 hours should really stay between them and their condiments of choice." The young man paused, and when he looked back up his eyes were clear, and set. "But not this."
"Xander--"
"Just don't, ok? Please. Just...please, leave me alone. Enjoy your game."
****
About 8 months later...
Lindsey walked into the club, towing his latest behind him. Peter was built, and had a wicked sense of humor, not to mention great hands. Just right for a man who needs to relax after a hard day's work. In return, he gave Petey some new toys: a bike, the jacket to go with it, pocket money. It was a satisfactory arrangement, and best of all, Peter was completely uncomplicated--no questions ever asked, no deep thoughts beyond what to wear tonight, should reds only accompany beef, and was Sean really the best Bond.
Weaving through the crowd, he spotted an ex, nodded his way. Nando was looking good, had found someone else. Good for him. Lindsey missed the racquetball games with the trader, and his to-die-for blow jobs, but not the man.
Reaching the bar, he located the last open seats, maneuvering Peter between himself and the two young men sitting nearby. He ignored the smiles and speculative looks--he was done with young men. Nodding, he let Peter get the bartender's attention, vaguely wondering why he'd let himself get talked into doing this tonight. Not his typical scene at all. Peter had begged very nicely, however, and he had figured, what the hell, a little bump and grind never hurt anyone. Besides, he owed himself a night off. But really, here?
He looked up at the pounding lights driven by the incessant backbeat, saw the mirror behind the bar, saw the press of bodies, and sighed. Man, he was getting old. If he walked out of here with his hearing intact, it would be a miracle, and he was pretty sure he wasn't up for any of those. Good thing there was no one he needed to hear from in the next couple of days.
He slid a pair of tens over to the bartender as their drinks were delivered, sipped his scotch slowly. Passable. Petey was already vibrating beside him, eager to "boogie," had downed half his rum and diet coke already. Lindsey knew he could drag his scotch for five minutes, maybe push it to ten. He pushed it. But eventually he got up and danced with his lover.
They gyrated to some house techno, then the DJ slowed things a bit with some older Madonna. It was marginally quieter, maybe that's why he heard it. Laughter, familiar laughter. He whipped around, ignoring his partner's surprised "hey!"
Memory served. Xander Harris was less than ten feet away, in the arms of a well-built Asian, smiling at the man. Laughing with him as the two swayed to the easy beat. The couple turned a bit and Lindsey felt himself relax. Frank Lee. Notorious flirt, but with a steady partner. Xander would not be going home with him tonight.
He'd managed to avoid thinking about Xander Harris recently. His sources kept tabs on the young man--for business reasons, Lindsey assured himself--and had told him he had not taken up with anyone since breaking it off with Curtis Brown several months back. Lindsey had been partially sorry to hear of the break up. Curtis had a successful architecture firm and was a good man from everything he'd heard. He would have taken good care of Xander. But the rest of him hated the man for being Xander's first lover. That spot should have been his. Would have been his.
"Lin... Lin-d-sey," Peter's annoyed voice broke into his thoughts. He realized he'd stopped moving, started up again, steering them away from a past that should stay there. Froze again when his gaze swept the mirror. Lee was moving away from Xander, but Xander hadn't stopped dancing. No one was there. Trouble was, he was clearly not dancing alone. So who...? Whipping Peter around again, Lindsey turned to see, worried that the young man was getting himself into trouble.
"Fuck." The word slipped out, angry and cold. He felt his hand tighten on Peter's arm, but the man's protests died as he looked at him. Lindsey didn't need Peter's reaction to know he looked scary. He felt scary. This was not the way it was supposed to be. Xander was not supposed to be over there, dancing. Not with him. Never, ever with him. And he sure as hell wasn't supposed to be kissing him, either. They weren't supposed to be together. Hatred boiled again, thick and sour in his belly, hissing through to the hand that wasn't there. Dammit, the bastard always got--spoiled everything.
This time the fucking vampire had gone too far.
"We're leaving." Lindsey turned without looking back, knowing that Peter was following. The whiny whimpers would start in the car, by the club door if Petey was feeling brave and stupid. He really had to go. But tomorrow. Tonight he needed to pound into a willing body, drive them both to exhaustion so he could forget the sight of Xander Harris with Angel. Smiling oh so lovingly.
**
"You're right, you are a horrible dancer. Let's bail, you're making me look bad." Xander grinned as he said it, meaning not a single word. Except about Angel's dancing--if he was noticing, you know it had to be bad. But that made him look good in comparison, he simply had to take more advantage. Angel could slow dance ok, mostly because little real movement was required. But anything else... Xander chuckled quietly and felt the slight squeeze of the hand that held his.
"Even if you're not done with public humiliation, I am. I can't believe you made me do that. No one should be held responsible for what they say in bed."
Xander shrugged, "Not my fault you babble during blow jobs. Watch your mouth and you wouldn't get into this kind of trouble."
"Trouble started because I was watching yours," Angel grumbled.
That mouth quirked in a wicked grin, and the brown eyes caressed him. "Is that all you were watching? I seem to recall attention paid to other parts of my body, too."
Angel smirked, stroking Xander's arms and getting into the spirit of the tease as exceedingly pleasurable memories presented themselves, "Far be it for me to show any favoritism."
"Impartial to a fault, that's you," Xander agreed cheerfully, pressing closer to his lover, crotch first. "Wanna be impartial again soon?"
Angel dipped his head and nibbled behind Xander's ear, one of his best spots, "I thought you didn't want to leave."
"Did I say that? Check those ears, Hairboy. I said, quote: Let's bail," Xander replied, eyes half closed as he bared his throat to his lover.
"But you didn't mean it."
"Uh-uh. Simple man, simple sentences. No hidden meanings here."
A snort interrupted Angel's nuzzling. Xander was anything but a simple man, or a simple lover. And he hid behind thicker walls than almost anyone Angel knew. But breaching those walls was worth it. Every moment they were together only served to convince him more. If only he could know Xander was that sure... Sometimes he felt that Xander was, but Xander would always pull back...
Well, here was definitely not the place to press the issue. He carefully licked down the lightly tanned, muscular throat, bit gently on the hint of exposed collar bone, smugly felt Xander's shudder. "In that case, why are we still here?"
****
Xander replaced the last of the toiletries in the shower area, and made his way to his locker. Another day of picking up after the filthy rich over and done with. Now he could go home to his night job, and, if he was lucky, spend a steamy, demon-free night with his lover. //It's good to be young.//
He spun the lock and pulled the door open, flashing back to high school just for a moment. One look inside the locker erased any trace of a smile from his face. He stared at the pile of ashes arranged in the shape of a heart. His brain seemed to freeze. He never remembered getting out the cell phone, or dialing.
"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless," Cordelia answered.
"Cor..." he couldn't make himself ask.
"Hey, Xander. What's up?"
"Angel--is-is he..."
"Is he... what? Up? Around? Available for sex in the hot tub we wish we had?"
"Alive."
"Technically, no," she replied, though her voice lost a lot of its teasing quality. "What's wrong?"
"Is he there?"
"Yeah, in the next room--Xander, what--"
"Thank god." He took a deep breath and pressed the locker shut, leaning his head against it and closing his eyes in relief.
"What happened? Are you ok?"
"Bad practical joke."
"Details."
"I got a present in my locker. Nice pile of ashes, heart shaped. Very trendy."
"Eeeww. Are you ok?"
"Yeah. The wig is over." Although he couldn't quite stop trembling yet.
"You think he's still there? Just--go somewhere with lots of people, I'll be there in 20."
"In L.A. traffic at 5:30?" he replied, barely managing the right degree of teasing incredulity. "Not even the way you drive. There's no sign of him, I'm fine, I'm on my way out and I'll be there soon."
"You sure? I can--"
"I'm sure."
He didn't fool her one bit. "Be careful. If you're not here in half an hour, I'm calling and heading out."
"Ok."
He hung up and mechanically went to the restroom, found an open stall, locked it and sat, head between his knees, as he waited for his body to stop shaking. Cordelia hadn't even bothered to ask who could have done this. There was a possibility that this actually was a prank, or that he had some psycho stalker. But he knew better. He knew who had done this, just like Cordelia did. He'd been half-waiting for it ever since he and Angel got together. He wished that having the other shoe finally drop really did make things better. All it did was add another reason why he needed to break things off, and left him hoping that it wasn't too late, for either of them.
**
Xander walked out of the bathroom 10 minutes later, collected a zip lock bag from the kitchen and made himself take a sample of the ashes. He grabbed his keys and his jacket and forced his steps to remain unhurried, his manner to stay calm, his face to keep smiling as he left the club. He drove the Honda scooter carefully and lost himself in the mindless flow of traffic.
He arrived at the red-brick building now housing Angel Investigations just as Cordelia and Wesley were rushing out. Cordy shot him a half-annoyed look that changed the moment he took his helmet off and she got a look at his face.
"I brought a sample," he said, taking the bag out of the scooter's under-seat compartment. Wesley took it without a word.
Xander turned to Cordelia. "What did you tell him?"
"Not a lot. He wanted to run out, but we pointed out that would be counter-productive."
He nodded. They walked back into the building, with Wesley bringing up the rear and Cordelia keeping a worried eye on Xander's face.
Angel was there the minute they walked in the door and enveloped him in a close hug. "Are you ok?"
Xander held him just as tightly for a moment, then stepped back, "Just some sicko with a wacky sense of humor."
"A sicko who knows you're seeing a vampire," Angel said, keeping hold of his lover's hand.
"Maybe Cop Lady's finally decided to make her move on you--" Xander broke off as he caught the glare Cordelia was aiming at him, glanced down then raised his eyes back to her and nodded a tiny bit.
She still frowned, not liking what she read on his face.
"Okay, rewind that last part. Angel, we need to talk."
"Let's go into my--" Angel stopped, taking a closer look at his lover. "Downstairs?"
Xander nodded. "Wes...?"
"I'll get right on it. And check on--"
"Yeah, thanks."
Angel was looking at him as he waited by the gated door to the elevator. Xander stepped that way but Cordelia held him back, "Don't do anything stupid," she hissed, voice low as her gaze shifted from him to Angel.
He nodded, and she let go because she had to, not because she believed him.
**
Angel stood in silence next to Xander as the elevator completed its short trip, wondering what was going through the boy's head. He had one or two guesses and no way was he going to let that happen. //You may not have a choice.// a voice in his head whispered.
"So," Angel began as they stepped into the apartment. "Everybody but me seems to think they know who did this. We all know it wasn't Kate. Care to fill me in on our real suspect?"
"Lindsey McDonald."
"What?! Why? And why aim it at you? He's never even met you."
"We've met," Xander said evenly as he moved towards the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he stared at the contents for a second, then closed it again, moved to lean against a nearby counter. "Technically, more than met. We dated. For a while."
"What?" Angel barely choked the word out. "When?"
"When I first moved here. Before Curtis."
"How long?"
"Almost a month."
"Are you out of your mind?!"
"Quite possibly. I mean my current lover's not even alive."
"You were lovers?" Angel asked hoarsely.
Xander shook his head, hands gripping the counter behind him. "Never went all the way. But we were planning a long weekend in Cancun. Sunny beaches, all the margaritas we could drink, big beds and lots of lube--everything a pre-ex-anal-virgin could ask for."
"But Lindsey? He-he's Wolfram & Hart's favorite son and about as corrupt as they come, he--"
"I didn't know, okay? I didn't know," Xander snapped, glaring. "New in town, remember, no Cliff Notes* to the bad guys. It's not like you handed out a list when I moved here--see these are the bad people, don't talk to or date them."
"But--"
"But what? What was I supposed to do? Ask you?!" He plastered on a very fake smile and an earnest expression, "Hi, Angel, haven't talked to you much--ever--but I'm moving in and by the way, I'm bi and will be dating guys. Here's a list of my potential dates, which ones aren't servants of the devil?"
"I didn't mean it like that," Angel said, fighting the all-too vivid images Xander's Cancun weekend had conjured and his own irritation. He hated when Xander got like this. Defenses up and on full, sarcasm oozing from every pore. It was next to impossible to talk with him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It was none of your business."
"It is now."
"That can be changed."
Looking at the set face of the boy--young man--before him, Angel saw he was dead-serious. "So Lindsey wins."
Xander took a deep breath, staring a hole in the toaster before looking back up. "Everybody wins."
Abruptly Angel realized a lot more was going on here than some ashes from Lindsey. "What's that supposed mean?"
"I mean it's been nice, but maybe we should just quit while we're ahead. It's not like we could keep this up much longer anyway."
"Why not?" Angel tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, took refuge in some anger when Xander shot him a "Puhleeze" look.
Xander crossed his arms, shaking his head, his eyes flat and hard, "Don't even try it, Deadboy. I don't know who you thought you were fooling, but we both knew what this was from Day 1. Don't get me wrong, the sex has been great--guess 250 years really do count for something--but boredom sets in eventually, even for us stupid mortals."
"You think it was just about sex for me?"
If anything, Xander's face got harder. Angel hadn't thought it could. "I told you not to go there. If there's anything I hate worse than a Deadboy, it's a Deadboy who lies." He turned to a cabinet, pulled out a garbage bag, and walked out, heading for the bedroom. Angel grabbed his arm, Xander wrenched it away violently. "Don't touch me."
Angel took a step back, but blocked his path. "We're not finished."
"Yes we are." Ice cold, and final.
"You're not going anywhere until you tell me how the hell you got the idea that this was just about sex."
Xander rolled his eyes, the muscles in his arms clenching as he crossed them again and obviously fought not to yell. "Why are you doing this? Buffy got off on the whole 90210-wallow-in-woe crap, but as we both know, I'm not her." Angel didn't move. "Oohh, I get it--you'll get kicked out of the brooding guy union unless we drag this out to its most miserable conclusion, right?"
Angel's jaw clenched a notch tighter, but he stayed silent, waiting.
Xander glared at him for another few moments, then rolled his eyes again and let out a dramatic sigh, "Fine, far be it for me to break the sacred brooding laws." He met Angel's gaze, his own tightly controlled, "I may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but the math on this is so simple even I get it. Love + sex + curse = bye-bye Deadboy, hello Psycho-killer. Que-ce que c'est?
"Now we both know my opinion of you was never solid gold to begin with--and is heading right back down the toilet as we speak--but even I don't believe that you'd risk losing your soul again. So you wanna have the sex, but you gotta mind the curse--not a whole lot of choice there, only one variable left. Mr. Sorenson said I'd use math in my daily life and whaddaya know, he was right."
Angel's jaw dropped just the slightest bit.
Xander surveyed him critically. "Good look. Go with it." Then, taking advantage of Angel's immobility, Xander stepped around him and into the bedroom, quickly moving to the dresser to collect his things.
The sound of drawers opening and closing snapped Angel out of shock. He couldn't believe Xander thought... Righteous anger and fear warred within him as he rushed into the bedroom. Fear won as he saw his lover obviously determined to be his ex-lover. "Xander--"
He didn't even glance at him, just kept opening drawers, grabbing t-shirts, boxers, the occasional pair of socks, and other assorted items that had migrated there from his own apartment, and stuffed them in the bag. As he moved to the nightstand where he kept his emergency chocolate stash, Angel pounced over to stop him. "Wait--what did you think this was?"
Xander stared at Angel's hand, his expression closed and distant. "A tattoo. Oh, excuse me, body art."
"The Powers gave it to me."
Xander didn't even glance at it again, "They do quality work. Great detail. Bored now. Move."
Angel ignored his words and continued, "It keeps my soul permanently anchored to my body."
Xander's eyes snapped up to meet his own.
"It's not as good as being human, but They felt I deserved something for avenging the deaths of Their Oracles and handling the mess with Darla. Plus it made the world safe from Angelus. For good."
Xander sat down abruptly.
"Xan, even the slightest, remotest... Even," he tried to think of someone Xander couldn't deny would be less of a risk than himself, "even sex with-with Willy would be too much risk. I could never take that chance, not with your life, or Wesley's or Gunn's or Cordelia's, never mind greater Los Angeles."
Xander didn't so much as blink as he listened to Angel. But he was listening, and that's all Angel cared about at the moment. "Asking you out on a date was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I was sure that you'd laugh in my face, but Cordelia threatened to tell you if I didn't do something about it on my own. She said brooding was one thing, but putting up with mooning was not in her job description."
Angel looked down, knowing the rest had to be said, "Even back in Sunnydale, I noticed you. But... there was Buffy... and the not insignificant fact that you hated the sight of me." He risked a tiny smile, was ridiculously heartened when he saw its faint echo deep in Xander's eyes. "When you moved here... I still didn't let myself think about it. You didn't exactly hate me anymore, but I was sure you wouldn't even consider..." He shook his head, remembering the shock he'd felt, "And then one night you bring Curtis around."
A shrug. "Sue me, I started thinking." Angel's hand twitched, he ached to touch his lover, but was too afraid the wrong move could still push him away right now. Taking a mental breath, he placed his final card on the table, "I've been falling in love with you for months."
Xander blinked then, his eyes wide and liquid, stunned, "Wh-what?"
"I love you."
"You can't." There was a slightly hysterical edge to his words.
Angel held up his right hand, wiggling his ring finger, "I can."
Xander stared at it again, "But-no-you--why me? You could--you and Buffy could--"
Angel shook his head, "No, we couldn't. She moved on, and so did I. We're both happier this way."
"But--"
"Xander, I don't want her." He enunciated each word. "I don't love her like that anymore. I love you." Angel took a risk, "What about you? What do you want? Just-just the sex?"
Xander sat utterly still for a moment, then the trembling started. He opened his mouth, couldn't say anything at first, then shook his head, the movement jerky as he wrapped his arms around himself. "I wanted to. I told myself I could. I'm a guy, guys do that all the time, right, I did it with Anya for the longest time. But it wasn't working. It wasn't--you're not like I thought and it just--it kept getting harder and I--"
Angel couldn't stand to see his lover like this and not hold him, pulled Xander into his arms. There was an instant of stiff rejection, then Xander crumpled against him, face buried against his shoulder. Angel heard the deep, shaking breaths, felt the way Xander clutched at his shirt, and rocked him, stroking his hair softly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I thought you knew. I love you. I told Giles, I thought he... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
*For the uninitiated, Cliff Notes are bright yellow booklets with summaries and analyses of classic novels, very popular with students who want a way out of actually reading books for school.
On to Part 2
Or
Part 3
Title: Yet to Nature True
Author: Lil
Pairing: Angel/Xander; X/other males. SLASH
Rating: Adult
Words: 28,050 (which is why this is split into 3 parts)
Summary: A move to LA brings all sort of new developments for Xander.
Feedback: Gives me a happy :)
Disclaimer: These characters are the creation of Joss Whedon and belong to him and Mutant Enemy, plus many other corporations. Basically, they belong to lots of people who are not me.*sigh*
Notes: I'd like to place mounds of virtual gold at the feet of my awesomely terrific betas, J Calanthe, Joey, Rune, and Shamenka. They're fabulous and provided invaluable help for this story and generous encouragement for me.*hugs* Thank you!
This story was originally posted to the Net in early 2001; it's currently archived at MIB, as well. This goes AU from the end of Season 1 of AtS and end of S4 of BTVS.
Yet to Nature True
By Lil
[Time: Jan, 2002]
"Spill."
"Huh?"
"Whatever's been pushing you down here every week. Spill." They'd been sitting on her couch drinking coffee for almost half an hour. It was Xander's third visit to L.A. in as many weeks, and Cordelia was getting tired of guessing what was on his mind. At this point, the break-up with Anya was way old news, so that couldn't be it. She knew he wasn't here to get back together with her, so that was out, too. Expectantly, she waited.
Xander eyed her, whole body wary. Must be big. He wasn't denying, and he wasn't talking. That equaled a great, fat BIG.
"I'm bi."
She blinked. Ok, that lived up to the hype. Mostly. "Ok."
His turn to blink, stare, and blink some more. "That's it? Just ok?"
"You wanted a scene? I can totally do a scene. No rehearsal required, I'm ready to go--" Effect achieved, he was smiling.
"We can skip, really. Calm is good. Although I was expecting this little chat to have more scene-like qualities."
"Is there a sequel?"
"Well, kind of. I'm sort of thinkingofreallydoingsomethingaboutthegaypart."
Cordelia nodded, long since versed in Nervous-Xander speak. "As in... what? Get a T-shirt, get an earring, get a boyfriend?"
"Press or say 3."
"Ok, so, do you have anyone in mind? Oh, wait, I know the perfect guy--he's in my acting class and he's really cute, and totally gay. Terrific sense of humor--we've gone shopping, he has excellent taste and could really bring something to the relationship--"
The panic in his eyes more than his hasty, "Cor!" made her stop. She immediately turned serious. "Are you ok with being bi?"
"Yeah. Mostly. But not in Sunnydale." He swirled his coffee, "I'm thinking of moving, maybe New York, or San Francisco."
"You don't know anyone in New York or San Francisco."
"Which is a point in their favor."
"Did you get a scene back home?"
"No. I'm thinking it's because I haven't told anybody but you."
"Why? Willow's still doing the lesbian thing with that witch chick, Tara, right? And you can't tell me Giles has never given it all for the home team. The man has 'experimented with my sexuality' written all over--"
"I know all that, ok. I know. But it's different for me. It is for guys, it just is."
"It's Buffy, isn't it?"
He paused, looked down. Nodded once.
"She coped with Willow."
"Yeah, but Will said she did the freak thing when she first told her. And I can totally see the way it would go. I go in, try and have a serious conversation with her about this, and she'd totally--"
"Laugh," Cordelia finished for him. "That's what you're afraid of, isn't it? That she's gonna laugh."
Xander was silent for a moment, then nodded again. "And she would, you know. She and Will have gotten better since we had this whole big fight right before we unplugged that Frankenstein reject, Adam, but it's still there. I know I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. And this is hard enough without either one of them pulling an 'I'm so superior' routine."
Cordelia appraised him for a moment, then mentally shrugged, he was as ready to hear this as he ever would be. "It would probably help if you didn't buy it."
He frowned. She met his eyes, her own level and serious. "Xander, that's how it works. Someone can act superior, but it only works if everyone else buys it. It's just like popularity--which I'm an expert on, if I do say so myself."
The frown deepened.
She went into lecture mode, unconsciously imitating Giles, but in her own way, of course. "Look, you have to start with something--it can be a real thing, like looks or money, or it can be a made up thing, like 'cool' or 'mystery' or whatever. But for it to work, other people have to buy it, and build that pedestal for you to stand on. You can't put yourself up there."
"But I didn't--"
"You did. You and Willow, and me, and Oz, and even Giles and Angel. When Buffy came, she was this Slayer. One Chosen Girl in all the world, blah blah blah... And yeah, that gives her an edge when we're off doing the slaying thing, but c'mon--she's no older than us. But every time something evil came to town, we asked her what to do. A 240 year-old vampire and a 40-something Watcher were asking a 16 year-old what to do. Like, Hello--teenager, not master military strategist or whatever."
He made as if to argue, and she held up a hand, stopped him. "Look, she got the job done, I'm not saying she didn't. But part of why she did was because we believed in her. Her plans weren't like, genius or anything. 'Let's blow up the big bad demon.' Not exactly Einstein material. It's not like Angel and Giles or you and me couldn't have come up with the same thing. But we let her do it. We expect her to do it. It's a whole cycle thing: you think someone can do something, they get lucky and do it, and then they believe they can which means they probably will again, which makes you and them believe even more... And ta-da: superiority."
"Or popularity."
She shrugged, "Same thing. Harmony, Aura and I couldn't have made ourselves the in-crowd without some help. Even the people who hated us believed in us, even if it was only a little bit, they thought we had a right to act the way we did, like we really were better than them." She gave him a grin, trying to lighten the air a bit, "Still don't know how I slipped up with you. Must be the Hellmouth."
He watched her for a second more, then shook his head, his eyes sad, and gentle, but said, "Must be."
He drank his coffee, taking a few, long moments to consider what she'd told him, then nodded, "Ok, you're right. Everything you said. So how do I not do that anymore? Is it like, now I know and knowing is half the battle or what?"
"I wish. Doesn't work that way. But it starts when you think about them as people, who make mistakes, who aren't perfect. And who aren't any better than you are."
"I knew there was a catch."
She took his hand, squeezed. Pulled him in to a hug and wished that was enough to make it better.
****
2 months later....
Xander walked into the bar, scanning the crowd surreptitiously, making little eye contact as he meandered over to the main counter. It was fairly early yet for a Thursday night, and there were empty stools around towards the back, where he secured himself a spot. The bartender made his way over a few minutes later, and Xander ordered a beer. The guy carded him, but no worries, he was legal now. The man nodded and smiled, brought the draft, offered to start a tab. Xander nodded. He was here to stay for at least a couple of hours, dammit.
He drank that first one too fast, but he needed to get his courage up. He'd moved to L.A. a couple of months earlier, and had learned of this bar's existence within his first ten days. It had taken him several more weeks to get up the nerve to actually walk in. He felt so exposed. Way more than in the strip club where he'd first fumbled his way through the gay side of his sex life. But that was its own little world. No one judged at all--and even if they had, he had no plans to stay. He felt like he could do anything. Here, though... here was a lot more permanent. A lot more "out."
He half-wished he'd taken Cordy up on her escort offer, but he was wired enough as it was, having his ex for audience as he made his first foray into the L.A. gay scene would have pushed him over the edge for sure. He hadn't told her he was coming tonight, made sure to bring a change of clothes to the health club where he worked, and headed here directly. He most definitely did not want her showing up uninvited.
Signaling for a second beer, he figured he should do more than stare at the dark wood of the bar and see what a great contrast it made to the pale ale he was guzzling. //You're just here to unwind, check out the scene a little. You're cool.// He'd been repeating that to himself ever since he'd gotten within sight of the bar. He was sure the confidence was going to kick in any minute now. Any second. //Yeah, right.//
Doing a mental eye roll, he forced himself to look up and at least scan the other people sitting along the bar. At the far end across from him was some exec who probably worked in the entertainment industry. Cordelia had tutored him well. The giveaways: the man had the big smile of a car salesman but more expensive clothes. Two of the hipper than hip were a few stools down, very clearly having a grand ole time, likely at everyone else's expense. He did not want to know what they were saying about him. After that a twenty-something like himself, clean cut, maybe a college student. Sandy brown hair, looked only a shade less nervous than he felt. Yup, another newbie.
The guy looked up and caught him watching, looked a little more nervous at first, but offered a tentative smile. Xander felt himself do the same, even managed a slight nod before both experienced an abrupt loss of courage and went back to their respective beers.
But Xander made a mental note. Someone new, like himself, he could approach and talk to. Of course, the whole point of this little outing //mental wince// was to meet someone who might actually know what he was doing. L.A. was perfect for that. Bright lights, big city--no wait, that's New York--doesn't matter, same principle; big, anonymous town, where only a few people know your name and even less care, was just the right place to try something new. And he was oh-so ready for something new.
Getting Cordy involved was not part of the original plan, but after they talked she'd offered. Somehow one week's temporary stay had turned into two months and shared rent. Cordelia would never cease to amaze him, and he felt lucky to have her in his life again. It had taken years to get back to this kind of friendship. This time he wouldn't blow it.
He was more than a little relieved to have someone to talk with about this, actually. Despite what Cordelia had told him, there was still no way he could talk with anyone else from Sunnydale. Willow would be all Willowy and supportive, welcoming him to the club like it was the scouts or something. She'd insist on doing "gay" things together. And there would be buttons, lots of buttons, maybe crystals, too, although that was more of a Wicca thing. Buffy--for a second he blanked, then shuddered. He really didn't want to know what Buffy would do, or say, if she didn't laugh. Eventually, he was more or less sure that she would be ok with it. But before she was, Psych 101 would rear its ugly head and there would be questions. Willow didn't get questions but he would get questions. Probably theories, too. He didn't want that. This was just the way he was, no need to write a term paper about it.
Frankly, he was a little scared to talk with Giles. There are lots and lots of things that you never really want to know about your only positive father figure. His happy stock of gay memories and coming out tips topped the list of "not in this lifetime" as far as Xander was concerned. It still gave him major wiggins to think of Giles and his "orgasm friend."
Suddenly he noticed fingers in front of his face. He looked up into a pair of amused blue eyes in a face marked by a smile and smattering of freckles.
"Huh? Wha--Lin? Oh my god!"
The other man smiled wider, "It's good to see you, too, Alex. What brings you down?"
"I moved here a little while ago. I didn't think you'd still be in town, it's been what--"
"Over two years."
"Yeah." Xander shook himself. "So, what have you been doing?"
"Same old same old," he shrugged, but held up his right arm, "Except for this."
Xander stared for a moment, swallowing heavily as he looked at the molded plastic where a flesh and blood hand should be. "What happened?"
"Thief." Anger burned in the blue eyes for a moment, but faded as Xander looked back up at him.
"Thief?! What, is L.A. trying to recapture those Aztec glory days?"
Lin almost grinned at that. "Not quite. My... bad luck to be a trendsetter."
"I hope he's rotting," Xander said sincerely.
This time he did grin, "Not yet. But I'm working on it."
Xander shook his head. "I'm sure you are." He knew Lindsey had a ruthless streak in him, though after something like this, anyone would.
"Enough about me, what have you been up to? Aside from the big move."
Eyeing the other man's trim physique and killer dimples, Xander took a mental leap (accompanied by an echoing Geronimoooo!) and flashed him a grin, "Getting older."
Lindsey smiled back. They had met when the younger man worked in a strip club near Oxnard. He'd been very attracted to the kid, had even made some moves on him, before finding out how young he was. Not quite jailbait, but close enough. Not worth the risk for a one night stand, which was all he could allow himself then. In those days, Lindsey had been more circumspect about his choice of partners, had always taken care not to be seen in town with anyone. He'd had to. But not anymore. Moving up and knowing where the bodies were buried had its perks.
Lindsey had never quite forgotten about him. And now he was here, and he wasn't so young anymore. He'd filled out nicely, he noted, giving the other man a thorough once-over. And the shyly reckless grin was just as tempting as ever, especially paired with that cute blush. "You hungry?" Lindsey asked.
Xander nodded, grinned, "Always."
They took their beers to a corner booth along with some burgers. The conversation flowed, and after a somewhat awkward period when the food had first arrived, the other man didn't make a fuss over his missing hand. And it was clear that Alex still found him attractive. Good. Lindsey kept the pace casual, easy, carefully gauging the younger man's reaction. Everything would be just right this time around.
Xander visibly started when he happened to glance towards the bar and saw the 11 o'clock news ending. "I didn't realize it was that late."
"Time flies when you're having fun. At least I hope you were having fun."
"Having fun," Xander said, smiling at him.
Lindsey grinned back, stretching and not-quite subtly sliding his hand across the table to where Xander was resting his. Bright blue eyes held brown for an over-long moment.
Reading the intent in those eyes Xander swallowed heavily, straightened. Danger Will Robinson! Maybe not Apocalypse now danger, but maybe a little more was expected than he was ready to give.
Lindsey saw the tension immediately. "What?"
"I-uhm..." Xander cast about through the beer for the right way to say this. Giving that up as hopeless, he settled for the blunt truth, "Ok, here's the thing. You're attractive. I mean you know that, right. But see... I'm--I never--since, you know, then, I haven't..." He stared at the table and tried again, "I'm still new to this whole... thing. Way, way new. I--if you just want a--to--a--"
"Fuck?" Lindsey finished for him.
Xander colored, "Yeah. Well, if that's what you want, I--I--I'm not--"
"Alex, I don't trick in bathrooms anymore. You're not the only one who's gotten older. You're attractive. I thought so then, and I wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't think so now. We can go as slow as you need."
Still blushing, Xander murmured, "Thanks."
"Can I give you a ride home?"
"I have wheels, home's not too far."
"You sure you're ok to drive?"
"Yeah," Xander replied, "I'm sure. Thanks."
"Can I walk you out?"
Xander smiled, getting the weird feeling he was finding out how the other half lived. "Yeah."
They got up together, having settled the check earlier. Lindsey walked him to his scooter, made no comments on it, his attention very definitely focused on Xander. More specifically Xander's mouth. Xander could almost feel the burn from the stare. Wet his lips instinctively. Saw Lindsey follow that, too. A second later they were kissing. Hot, hungry. Man, he remembered this with his whole body. He felt Lindsey slip his arms around his back, felt his hands rest on the curve of his ass, slipped his own hands under Lindsey's tailored jacket and over wrinkled, slightly sweaty pin-stripe cotton. Came up for air to feel a nuzzling at his neck, closed his eyes as tiny kisses were planted along his jaw before his mouth was claimed again. Pulled away slowly, the movements heavy and thick. Heard breathing as harsh as his own over pounding in his ears.
"Did they teach you that in law school?" he managed a few beats later.
Lindsey grinned again, "Nope, pure natural talent."
Xander grinned, too, "Not so sure about pure, but talent, definitely."
"Have dinner with me Saturday."
Xander swallowed. Blinked. "Ok."
"Where can I reach you?"
They exchanged numbers. Xander gave him the work number--no way did he want this message on his home machine; Lindsey gave his cell.
"See you Saturday, then."
"Saturday."
Lindsey just looked at his face for a long moment more, then kissed him again, hard and quick, and waved good night. Xander watched him go, lips burning, a half smile on his face. Not bad for a first night out.
****
3 1/2 Weeks Later...
Xander lounged on the couch, only half listening as Wesley and Angel bitched about a recent set back at the hands of Wolfram & Hart. Xander was as upset, but didn't see the use in dwelling on it--it was over, battle lost, let's move on. Besides, he had a date tonight he would not have to cancel after all, and he was looking forward to it.
"At least this time it wasn't that weasel, Lindsey. I hate him," Cordelia grouched from her seat by the computer. "Like he can really pull off those jackets."
Xander sat up abruptly. Barely managed to keep in a very startled exclamation. Kept additional movement down to two blinks and a stare at his roommate. "Who?" he asked with forced casualness.
"One of the flunkies at W&H. We usually get him or that chick--great hair, no conscience, go figure. This time it was someone new, Tony Mathers or something."
"Mathers," Angel confirmed, looking unhappy as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
Xander was still trying very hard not to freak. There was a tiny, desperate hope inside him that they were talking about another Lindsey who was a lawyer. //Uh-huh. I'll take long odds off a short pier for 1000.// "Just for my own personal enlightenment--who are the 'usual' folks at this root-of-all-evil law firm? This Tony guy, and you said Lindsey..."
"Yeah, Lindsey McDonald. And Lilah Morgan and the uber-weasel, Holland Manners."
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit! "I see. So they're all corrupt and of the Bad."
"The Very Bad," Cordy agreed. "We're still ahead, though."
"They're gaining," Wesley said, frowning.
"We'll whip their asses next time," Cordelia said blithely. "Smoothie, anyone?" She'd just purchased a juicer/blender for the office--a cappuccino machine was just too unhealthy, fattening, and de-classe (the three deadly sins)--and was eager to use it.
The three men declined, but she flitted away to make one for herself. Angel retreated into his office, and Wesley was about to return some of their weapons to the closets downstairs. Xander put on a smile, "Can I give you a hand there, Wesley?"
**
The former Watcher raised a brow but wasn't about to turn down help. Never mind that this was the very first time Xander had offered to do anything for him that didn't directly involve one of their cases. Maybe he was finally winning the boy over. They went down the stairs in silence, and silently walked to Angel's storage closet. Silently put the weapons away. Wesley turned to leave, knowing full well that Xander would stop him. He was getting better at reading people, and the boy's nervous tension was plain to see.
"Uhm, Wesley, can I talk to you for a sec?"
"Of course, Xander."
"You might want to sit down for this one."
"Oh?" he said, making his way to Angel's living room couch.
Xander nodded, waited until he sat. "See... I'm kinda, well, totally... bi."
"Oh." Not exactly the sort of talk that he would have expected to have with Xander but he couldn't deny he felt flattered by the boy's trust in him. "Well I'm sure that--"
"No, that's not it. I'm ok with the whole bi-thing, Cordy knows, and I'm working on how to tell everyone else back home."
"Oh, right," he said, managing not to sound disappointed. Another possibility occurred to him and he once again felt flattered, although a touch alarmed by the prospect, "Uh, Xander, do you want to discuss some feelings..."
The boy stared at him blankly for a moment, then his eyes widened, "No! I mean, yes, but not about you."
"Oh, uhm, all right. So what--"
"I met someone. A few weeks ago," he frowned a bit, "Well, more like re-met someone."
"Ah, yes. Delia mentioned that you were starting to date, and was very mysterious about with whom. Unusual for her, now I know why. I take it it's a young man?"
"You take right. But here's the thing. And I swear I had no idea... I mean you guys just said the name of the firm, you didn't run all the credits, and I'm Mr. No-Superpowers here, no mindreading or visions--"
"Xander," Wesley interrupted firmly, "Let's get back to the 'thing.'"
"The thing. Right. The thing. Well, the thing is, well, the guy, it's Lindsey."
"Lindsey?" He couldn't have heard right. The boy gave an unhappy nod. No, surely not. "Lindsey McDonald, of Wolfram & Hart?"
Another nod, even more unhappy. Good Lord.
"Does he know who you are?"
"I don't think so. I told him my name is Alex Lavelle, it's the name I use at work--I was using it the first time he met me, too. And he only has my work number."
"The first time?"
"Summer after graduation," Xander told him, eyes firmly on the floor, hands fiddling with the edge of his green overshirt. "You know I, uh, was gonna do the Kerouac thing, but, uh... the car broke down... I ended up working at a, uhm, strip club. We... met there."
"I see." Although he didn't, not really, but that particular point could wait. "Have you discussed any of our cases with him?"
"Yeah, Wes, I tell all my dates I fight demons in my spare time."
"Right, sorry, stupid question. Has he...?"
Xander shot him another look, "Not real big on his agenda either." Xander blinked and went still, something obviously occurring to him, "His hand--did--Angel did that, didn't he?"
"Yes. Right after Lindsey succeeded in summoning Darla back."
Xander ran a hand over his face, "Heard about that one." He laughed, a sound with absolutely no joy in it. "What the fuck do I do?"
"You must break it off."
"Let's file that under incredibly obvious, Dr. Duh," Xander snapped. Wesley winced a bit and Xander must have seen it, took a breath, "Sorry. It's just... I'm real clear on the 'break up with evil lawyer' concept. How do I do it without becoming demon food?"
Wesley frowned. "I see your dilemma. How, uhm, serious have you been?"
"Nothing too major," Xander said, blushing only a little. "We've been taking it slow."
"That's good, perhaps you can simply break it off as you would a normal relationship. Tell him you're no longer interested, found someone else, that sort of thing. Whatever you think might work best."
"What if he doesn't buy it?"
Wesley opened his mouth, closed it. "I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "Lindsey's conducted himself with a bit more... well, compassion's probably too strong a word but a bit, uhm, better than--"
"The other demon-lovin', people-killing pricks at W&H?" Xander supplied sarcastically. "You're not helping." He sat down abruptly, head in his hands.
And Wesley realized there were two people in that relationship, and that "taking it slow" might be more indicative of deeper feelings than the opposite.
"I'm sorry, Xander." It was awkward, and pitifully inadequate, but it was all one could say.
Xander nodded, took a deep breath, obviously forced himself to smile, though his eyes were glassy. Damn, there were deeper feelings there.
"Thanks. And thanks for not judging."
"You didn't know."
"I'll do it tonight."
"If you need to... talk, afterwards..."
"Thanks. I might take you up on that." Xander stood. "Don't tell Cordy, ok? I'll end up telling her eventually, but I just can't do it right now."
"You have my word."
Xander nodded. "Deadboy doesn't know anything, I'd kinda like to keep it that way. I mean it's business but it's not, you know?"
"This stays between us."
"Thanks, Wes."
"Do you want me to come with you... be waiting somewhere nearby?"
"I don't think he'll make a scene. Not his style, and definitely not good for the firm. I'll be ok."
Wesley hesitated, but had to say, "You might want to think about a new job. If he... takes it badly."
A jerky nod from Xander, bitter smile. "Can I pick 'em or what?"
There was really no answer to that.
****
Xander sat at the bar of the restaurant where he was supposed to meet Lindsey for dinner. He had been nursing a single beer for over an hour. He'd arrived very early. Right on time, Lindsey sauntered in, a big smile on his face. Xander wondered if it had something to do with the demon drug dealers that had gotten off that afternoon, thanks to missing evidence from the police lock-up. Was Wolfram & Hart like a regular law firm? Did they have cocktail parties to celebrate a big win? What were the hors d'oeuvres like when most of your clientele probably liked to eat the employees? //And I so need to find other hobbies.//
"Alex, hi," Lindsey leaned in for a kiss, Xander moved his head slightly so that it missed his mouth. Lindsey frowned, "Am I late, have you been waiting long?"
"No." He gulped the last of his beer, "We, uh, need to talk."
"Talk?" Lindsey's tone was carefully neutral.
"Yeah. Booth?"
Slightly wary, Lindsey nodded.
They found an empty booth near the door. It was just 7 pm. Most of the dinner crowd wouldn't arrive until 8. Lindsey had set up dinner a bit early so they could catch a Lakers game afterwards. He said it was a company perk. The more Xander thought about it, the more it made him sick. Lindsey touched his shoulder, Xander couldn't help moving away. Lindsey dropped his hand and slid into the booth across from him.
"What's up?" Lindsey said, eyes watchful though his tone was light.
"I've been thinking... you know, we're really very different people. You're a hot-shot lawyer, I'm just a glorified pool boy. You did the whole college thing, think big thoughts and all, fancy cars, company perks... me, pretty much no to all of that...we're way off-balance. I'm sorry I wasted your time--"
"Stop." Lindsey didn't raise his voice but there was plenty of force behind the word. "I do get paid a lot of money to think big thoughts and cut through the bull and that was a load and a half."
Time for track number two. "I met someone else."
That stopped Lindsey for a second and he stared at Xander intently. Xander did his best to meet the gaze, but in the end couldn't quite manage it. "Load number two. Can we avoid number three? What's this really about? We were fine yesterday. I thought--" he reached for Xander's hand, which scurried back and under the table. "Alex?"
Xander took a deep breath. "I know where you work."
Lindsey froze just a little bit. "What?"
"I know where you work. And who--what--you work for."
Lindsey settled against the wooden back of the booth, eyeing him carefully, face completely closed, the very antithesis of the man Xander had grown to know these past weeks. "I was going to talk to you about that, soon, Alex. I know there are a lot of crazy rumors in this town. It's just that kind of place. A smart man ignores them."
"Then I guess I'm not that smart."
"I don't know what you think you know--"
"Please don't," Xander said, weary and sad instead of forceful, unlike Lindsey's earlier command, but the other man paused. "I told you I'm from a small town up north, right? I never mentioned the name, cuz I figured you wouldn't have any reason to know it." Xander looked him straight in the eye. "I was born and raised in Sunnydale. High school class of '99." He was watching closely, saw Lindsey process the information, make some connections. "It was a hell of a graduation." Absolutely no humor intended.
"I remember reading something about that," Lindsey said cautiously. "There was some kind of explosion or something during that graduation."
"Yeah, there was."
"I had nothing to do with that."
"I know."
"You may think you know, but--"
"I know."
"Who have you been talking to? Old pals from your high school class? Someone from the ole hometown? Alex, I don't know anything about Sunnydale, but I do know L.A., and there is a lot more to this story--maybe even some things that you wouldn't believe, that I hoped would never touch your life--"
"My life's been 'touched' for a while now."
"He's not what he says he is."
"I know everything about what he is."
Lindsey blinked rapidly, a name popping up in his mental files. "Xander Harris."
Xander said nothing. Lindsey felt an instant of suspicion: had the whole relationship been a set up? Dismissed it the next. There was no way that strip club had been a set up. And he'd been the one to initiate and pursue contact here. Plus Alex--Xander--had never asked him a thing about work, never given him anything that might conceal a listening device or a tracker. If he was a plant, the last thing he should be doing right now was revealing himself before getting any real information. And that meant this was legit, Xander was legit. If he really did know everything...
"Alex, the world is not black and white. There are more shades of grey than any of us like to admit. But that also means there are a lot of opportunities, very lucrative opportunities, for people intelligent enough to seize them."
As soon as he said the words, he knew he'd made a fatal mistake. And it hurt far more than anything had in years.
Xander looked at him with a mixture of bitter self-mockery, pain, and a degree or two of disgust. "We've already covered my lack of smarts. I told you. We're very different people."
"Alex--"
"Xander."
"Xander then."
"Look. You're right, there is more grey out there than we-I might like. And 99% of the time, I'm cool with that. What consenting adults choose to do with their 24 hours should really stay between them and their condiments of choice." The young man paused, and when he looked back up his eyes were clear, and set. "But not this."
"Xander--"
"Just don't, ok? Please. Just...please, leave me alone. Enjoy your game."
****
About 8 months later...
Lindsey walked into the club, towing his latest behind him. Peter was built, and had a wicked sense of humor, not to mention great hands. Just right for a man who needs to relax after a hard day's work. In return, he gave Petey some new toys: a bike, the jacket to go with it, pocket money. It was a satisfactory arrangement, and best of all, Peter was completely uncomplicated--no questions ever asked, no deep thoughts beyond what to wear tonight, should reds only accompany beef, and was Sean really the best Bond.
Weaving through the crowd, he spotted an ex, nodded his way. Nando was looking good, had found someone else. Good for him. Lindsey missed the racquetball games with the trader, and his to-die-for blow jobs, but not the man.
Reaching the bar, he located the last open seats, maneuvering Peter between himself and the two young men sitting nearby. He ignored the smiles and speculative looks--he was done with young men. Nodding, he let Peter get the bartender's attention, vaguely wondering why he'd let himself get talked into doing this tonight. Not his typical scene at all. Peter had begged very nicely, however, and he had figured, what the hell, a little bump and grind never hurt anyone. Besides, he owed himself a night off. But really, here?
He looked up at the pounding lights driven by the incessant backbeat, saw the mirror behind the bar, saw the press of bodies, and sighed. Man, he was getting old. If he walked out of here with his hearing intact, it would be a miracle, and he was pretty sure he wasn't up for any of those. Good thing there was no one he needed to hear from in the next couple of days.
He slid a pair of tens over to the bartender as their drinks were delivered, sipped his scotch slowly. Passable. Petey was already vibrating beside him, eager to "boogie," had downed half his rum and diet coke already. Lindsey knew he could drag his scotch for five minutes, maybe push it to ten. He pushed it. But eventually he got up and danced with his lover.
They gyrated to some house techno, then the DJ slowed things a bit with some older Madonna. It was marginally quieter, maybe that's why he heard it. Laughter, familiar laughter. He whipped around, ignoring his partner's surprised "hey!"
Memory served. Xander Harris was less than ten feet away, in the arms of a well-built Asian, smiling at the man. Laughing with him as the two swayed to the easy beat. The couple turned a bit and Lindsey felt himself relax. Frank Lee. Notorious flirt, but with a steady partner. Xander would not be going home with him tonight.
He'd managed to avoid thinking about Xander Harris recently. His sources kept tabs on the young man--for business reasons, Lindsey assured himself--and had told him he had not taken up with anyone since breaking it off with Curtis Brown several months back. Lindsey had been partially sorry to hear of the break up. Curtis had a successful architecture firm and was a good man from everything he'd heard. He would have taken good care of Xander. But the rest of him hated the man for being Xander's first lover. That spot should have been his. Would have been his.
"Lin... Lin-d-sey," Peter's annoyed voice broke into his thoughts. He realized he'd stopped moving, started up again, steering them away from a past that should stay there. Froze again when his gaze swept the mirror. Lee was moving away from Xander, but Xander hadn't stopped dancing. No one was there. Trouble was, he was clearly not dancing alone. So who...? Whipping Peter around again, Lindsey turned to see, worried that the young man was getting himself into trouble.
"Fuck." The word slipped out, angry and cold. He felt his hand tighten on Peter's arm, but the man's protests died as he looked at him. Lindsey didn't need Peter's reaction to know he looked scary. He felt scary. This was not the way it was supposed to be. Xander was not supposed to be over there, dancing. Not with him. Never, ever with him. And he sure as hell wasn't supposed to be kissing him, either. They weren't supposed to be together. Hatred boiled again, thick and sour in his belly, hissing through to the hand that wasn't there. Dammit, the bastard always got--spoiled everything.
This time the fucking vampire had gone too far.
"We're leaving." Lindsey turned without looking back, knowing that Peter was following. The whiny whimpers would start in the car, by the club door if Petey was feeling brave and stupid. He really had to go. But tomorrow. Tonight he needed to pound into a willing body, drive them both to exhaustion so he could forget the sight of Xander Harris with Angel. Smiling oh so lovingly.
**
"You're right, you are a horrible dancer. Let's bail, you're making me look bad." Xander grinned as he said it, meaning not a single word. Except about Angel's dancing--if he was noticing, you know it had to be bad. But that made him look good in comparison, he simply had to take more advantage. Angel could slow dance ok, mostly because little real movement was required. But anything else... Xander chuckled quietly and felt the slight squeeze of the hand that held his.
"Even if you're not done with public humiliation, I am. I can't believe you made me do that. No one should be held responsible for what they say in bed."
Xander shrugged, "Not my fault you babble during blow jobs. Watch your mouth and you wouldn't get into this kind of trouble."
"Trouble started because I was watching yours," Angel grumbled.
That mouth quirked in a wicked grin, and the brown eyes caressed him. "Is that all you were watching? I seem to recall attention paid to other parts of my body, too."
Angel smirked, stroking Xander's arms and getting into the spirit of the tease as exceedingly pleasurable memories presented themselves, "Far be it for me to show any favoritism."
"Impartial to a fault, that's you," Xander agreed cheerfully, pressing closer to his lover, crotch first. "Wanna be impartial again soon?"
Angel dipped his head and nibbled behind Xander's ear, one of his best spots, "I thought you didn't want to leave."
"Did I say that? Check those ears, Hairboy. I said, quote: Let's bail," Xander replied, eyes half closed as he bared his throat to his lover.
"But you didn't mean it."
"Uh-uh. Simple man, simple sentences. No hidden meanings here."
A snort interrupted Angel's nuzzling. Xander was anything but a simple man, or a simple lover. And he hid behind thicker walls than almost anyone Angel knew. But breaching those walls was worth it. Every moment they were together only served to convince him more. If only he could know Xander was that sure... Sometimes he felt that Xander was, but Xander would always pull back...
Well, here was definitely not the place to press the issue. He carefully licked down the lightly tanned, muscular throat, bit gently on the hint of exposed collar bone, smugly felt Xander's shudder. "In that case, why are we still here?"
****
Xander replaced the last of the toiletries in the shower area, and made his way to his locker. Another day of picking up after the filthy rich over and done with. Now he could go home to his night job, and, if he was lucky, spend a steamy, demon-free night with his lover. //It's good to be young.//
He spun the lock and pulled the door open, flashing back to high school just for a moment. One look inside the locker erased any trace of a smile from his face. He stared at the pile of ashes arranged in the shape of a heart. His brain seemed to freeze. He never remembered getting out the cell phone, or dialing.
"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless," Cordelia answered.
"Cor..." he couldn't make himself ask.
"Hey, Xander. What's up?"
"Angel--is-is he..."
"Is he... what? Up? Around? Available for sex in the hot tub we wish we had?"
"Alive."
"Technically, no," she replied, though her voice lost a lot of its teasing quality. "What's wrong?"
"Is he there?"
"Yeah, in the next room--Xander, what--"
"Thank god." He took a deep breath and pressed the locker shut, leaning his head against it and closing his eyes in relief.
"What happened? Are you ok?"
"Bad practical joke."
"Details."
"I got a present in my locker. Nice pile of ashes, heart shaped. Very trendy."
"Eeeww. Are you ok?"
"Yeah. The wig is over." Although he couldn't quite stop trembling yet.
"You think he's still there? Just--go somewhere with lots of people, I'll be there in 20."
"In L.A. traffic at 5:30?" he replied, barely managing the right degree of teasing incredulity. "Not even the way you drive. There's no sign of him, I'm fine, I'm on my way out and I'll be there soon."
"You sure? I can--"
"I'm sure."
He didn't fool her one bit. "Be careful. If you're not here in half an hour, I'm calling and heading out."
"Ok."
He hung up and mechanically went to the restroom, found an open stall, locked it and sat, head between his knees, as he waited for his body to stop shaking. Cordelia hadn't even bothered to ask who could have done this. There was a possibility that this actually was a prank, or that he had some psycho stalker. But he knew better. He knew who had done this, just like Cordelia did. He'd been half-waiting for it ever since he and Angel got together. He wished that having the other shoe finally drop really did make things better. All it did was add another reason why he needed to break things off, and left him hoping that it wasn't too late, for either of them.
**
Xander walked out of the bathroom 10 minutes later, collected a zip lock bag from the kitchen and made himself take a sample of the ashes. He grabbed his keys and his jacket and forced his steps to remain unhurried, his manner to stay calm, his face to keep smiling as he left the club. He drove the Honda scooter carefully and lost himself in the mindless flow of traffic.
He arrived at the red-brick building now housing Angel Investigations just as Cordelia and Wesley were rushing out. Cordy shot him a half-annoyed look that changed the moment he took his helmet off and she got a look at his face.
"I brought a sample," he said, taking the bag out of the scooter's under-seat compartment. Wesley took it without a word.
Xander turned to Cordelia. "What did you tell him?"
"Not a lot. He wanted to run out, but we pointed out that would be counter-productive."
He nodded. They walked back into the building, with Wesley bringing up the rear and Cordelia keeping a worried eye on Xander's face.
Angel was there the minute they walked in the door and enveloped him in a close hug. "Are you ok?"
Xander held him just as tightly for a moment, then stepped back, "Just some sicko with a wacky sense of humor."
"A sicko who knows you're seeing a vampire," Angel said, keeping hold of his lover's hand.
"Maybe Cop Lady's finally decided to make her move on you--" Xander broke off as he caught the glare Cordelia was aiming at him, glanced down then raised his eyes back to her and nodded a tiny bit.
She still frowned, not liking what she read on his face.
"Okay, rewind that last part. Angel, we need to talk."
"Let's go into my--" Angel stopped, taking a closer look at his lover. "Downstairs?"
Xander nodded. "Wes...?"
"I'll get right on it. And check on--"
"Yeah, thanks."
Angel was looking at him as he waited by the gated door to the elevator. Xander stepped that way but Cordelia held him back, "Don't do anything stupid," she hissed, voice low as her gaze shifted from him to Angel.
He nodded, and she let go because she had to, not because she believed him.
**
Angel stood in silence next to Xander as the elevator completed its short trip, wondering what was going through the boy's head. He had one or two guesses and no way was he going to let that happen. //You may not have a choice.// a voice in his head whispered.
"So," Angel began as they stepped into the apartment. "Everybody but me seems to think they know who did this. We all know it wasn't Kate. Care to fill me in on our real suspect?"
"Lindsey McDonald."
"What?! Why? And why aim it at you? He's never even met you."
"We've met," Xander said evenly as he moved towards the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he stared at the contents for a second, then closed it again, moved to lean against a nearby counter. "Technically, more than met. We dated. For a while."
"What?" Angel barely choked the word out. "When?"
"When I first moved here. Before Curtis."
"How long?"
"Almost a month."
"Are you out of your mind?!"
"Quite possibly. I mean my current lover's not even alive."
"You were lovers?" Angel asked hoarsely.
Xander shook his head, hands gripping the counter behind him. "Never went all the way. But we were planning a long weekend in Cancun. Sunny beaches, all the margaritas we could drink, big beds and lots of lube--everything a pre-ex-anal-virgin could ask for."
"But Lindsey? He-he's Wolfram & Hart's favorite son and about as corrupt as they come, he--"
"I didn't know, okay? I didn't know," Xander snapped, glaring. "New in town, remember, no Cliff Notes* to the bad guys. It's not like you handed out a list when I moved here--see these are the bad people, don't talk to or date them."
"But--"
"But what? What was I supposed to do? Ask you?!" He plastered on a very fake smile and an earnest expression, "Hi, Angel, haven't talked to you much--ever--but I'm moving in and by the way, I'm bi and will be dating guys. Here's a list of my potential dates, which ones aren't servants of the devil?"
"I didn't mean it like that," Angel said, fighting the all-too vivid images Xander's Cancun weekend had conjured and his own irritation. He hated when Xander got like this. Defenses up and on full, sarcasm oozing from every pore. It was next to impossible to talk with him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It was none of your business."
"It is now."
"That can be changed."
Looking at the set face of the boy--young man--before him, Angel saw he was dead-serious. "So Lindsey wins."
Xander took a deep breath, staring a hole in the toaster before looking back up. "Everybody wins."
Abruptly Angel realized a lot more was going on here than some ashes from Lindsey. "What's that supposed mean?"
"I mean it's been nice, but maybe we should just quit while we're ahead. It's not like we could keep this up much longer anyway."
"Why not?" Angel tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, took refuge in some anger when Xander shot him a "Puhleeze" look.
Xander crossed his arms, shaking his head, his eyes flat and hard, "Don't even try it, Deadboy. I don't know who you thought you were fooling, but we both knew what this was from Day 1. Don't get me wrong, the sex has been great--guess 250 years really do count for something--but boredom sets in eventually, even for us stupid mortals."
"You think it was just about sex for me?"
If anything, Xander's face got harder. Angel hadn't thought it could. "I told you not to go there. If there's anything I hate worse than a Deadboy, it's a Deadboy who lies." He turned to a cabinet, pulled out a garbage bag, and walked out, heading for the bedroom. Angel grabbed his arm, Xander wrenched it away violently. "Don't touch me."
Angel took a step back, but blocked his path. "We're not finished."
"Yes we are." Ice cold, and final.
"You're not going anywhere until you tell me how the hell you got the idea that this was just about sex."
Xander rolled his eyes, the muscles in his arms clenching as he crossed them again and obviously fought not to yell. "Why are you doing this? Buffy got off on the whole 90210-wallow-in-woe crap, but as we both know, I'm not her." Angel didn't move. "Oohh, I get it--you'll get kicked out of the brooding guy union unless we drag this out to its most miserable conclusion, right?"
Angel's jaw clenched a notch tighter, but he stayed silent, waiting.
Xander glared at him for another few moments, then rolled his eyes again and let out a dramatic sigh, "Fine, far be it for me to break the sacred brooding laws." He met Angel's gaze, his own tightly controlled, "I may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but the math on this is so simple even I get it. Love + sex + curse = bye-bye Deadboy, hello Psycho-killer. Que-ce que c'est?
"Now we both know my opinion of you was never solid gold to begin with--and is heading right back down the toilet as we speak--but even I don't believe that you'd risk losing your soul again. So you wanna have the sex, but you gotta mind the curse--not a whole lot of choice there, only one variable left. Mr. Sorenson said I'd use math in my daily life and whaddaya know, he was right."
Angel's jaw dropped just the slightest bit.
Xander surveyed him critically. "Good look. Go with it." Then, taking advantage of Angel's immobility, Xander stepped around him and into the bedroom, quickly moving to the dresser to collect his things.
The sound of drawers opening and closing snapped Angel out of shock. He couldn't believe Xander thought... Righteous anger and fear warred within him as he rushed into the bedroom. Fear won as he saw his lover obviously determined to be his ex-lover. "Xander--"
He didn't even glance at him, just kept opening drawers, grabbing t-shirts, boxers, the occasional pair of socks, and other assorted items that had migrated there from his own apartment, and stuffed them in the bag. As he moved to the nightstand where he kept his emergency chocolate stash, Angel pounced over to stop him. "Wait--what did you think this was?"
Xander stared at Angel's hand, his expression closed and distant. "A tattoo. Oh, excuse me, body art."
"The Powers gave it to me."
Xander didn't even glance at it again, "They do quality work. Great detail. Bored now. Move."
Angel ignored his words and continued, "It keeps my soul permanently anchored to my body."
Xander's eyes snapped up to meet his own.
"It's not as good as being human, but They felt I deserved something for avenging the deaths of Their Oracles and handling the mess with Darla. Plus it made the world safe from Angelus. For good."
Xander sat down abruptly.
"Xan, even the slightest, remotest... Even," he tried to think of someone Xander couldn't deny would be less of a risk than himself, "even sex with-with Willy would be too much risk. I could never take that chance, not with your life, or Wesley's or Gunn's or Cordelia's, never mind greater Los Angeles."
Xander didn't so much as blink as he listened to Angel. But he was listening, and that's all Angel cared about at the moment. "Asking you out on a date was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I was sure that you'd laugh in my face, but Cordelia threatened to tell you if I didn't do something about it on my own. She said brooding was one thing, but putting up with mooning was not in her job description."
Angel looked down, knowing the rest had to be said, "Even back in Sunnydale, I noticed you. But... there was Buffy... and the not insignificant fact that you hated the sight of me." He risked a tiny smile, was ridiculously heartened when he saw its faint echo deep in Xander's eyes. "When you moved here... I still didn't let myself think about it. You didn't exactly hate me anymore, but I was sure you wouldn't even consider..." He shook his head, remembering the shock he'd felt, "And then one night you bring Curtis around."
A shrug. "Sue me, I started thinking." Angel's hand twitched, he ached to touch his lover, but was too afraid the wrong move could still push him away right now. Taking a mental breath, he placed his final card on the table, "I've been falling in love with you for months."
Xander blinked then, his eyes wide and liquid, stunned, "Wh-what?"
"I love you."
"You can't." There was a slightly hysterical edge to his words.
Angel held up his right hand, wiggling his ring finger, "I can."
Xander stared at it again, "But-no-you--why me? You could--you and Buffy could--"
Angel shook his head, "No, we couldn't. She moved on, and so did I. We're both happier this way."
"But--"
"Xander, I don't want her." He enunciated each word. "I don't love her like that anymore. I love you." Angel took a risk, "What about you? What do you want? Just-just the sex?"
Xander sat utterly still for a moment, then the trembling started. He opened his mouth, couldn't say anything at first, then shook his head, the movement jerky as he wrapped his arms around himself. "I wanted to. I told myself I could. I'm a guy, guys do that all the time, right, I did it with Anya for the longest time. But it wasn't working. It wasn't--you're not like I thought and it just--it kept getting harder and I--"
Angel couldn't stand to see his lover like this and not hold him, pulled Xander into his arms. There was an instant of stiff rejection, then Xander crumpled against him, face buried against his shoulder. Angel heard the deep, shaking breaths, felt the way Xander clutched at his shirt, and rocked him, stroking his hair softly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I thought you knew. I love you. I told Giles, I thought he... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
*For the uninitiated, Cliff Notes are bright yellow booklets with summaries and analyses of classic novels, very popular with students who want a way out of actually reading books for school.
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