Nothing to him (Andrew/Warren)
I don't think, therefore I write... slash.
Title: Nothing to him
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Andrew/Warren (duh, it’s my OTP!)
Rating: *sighs* Mild PG, for the first time in years. Sorry guys!
Disclaimer: Our Lord God Joss Whedon owns the boys.
Author’s note: Just ‘cause maisirmoltesen asked me to write something nice and fluffy for a change, I figured I’d go back to my roots and write a classic Wandrew one-shot. Place this anywhere you want in the time-line. Just don’t complain about it, like, waaah, it’s too cute and OOC, or, omg, I just OD’d on sugar, ‘cause it’s MEANT TO BE cute, not explicit.
”You think you could maybe build a future for us then?”
Andrew’s voice was shaking, his nervousness making him unable to speak naturally. He had to force every word out of his mouth, and as they passed over his dry lips, he almost swallowed his own tongue. Whatever he managed to utter right then would just seem so pathetic, so needy… there he was, standing right in front of Warren, so desperate, so eager for something to happen. And at the same time so terribly afraid of doing something wrong.
Warren frowned. Like Andrew’s woes would have any significance to him whatsoever. He’d never cared before, had he? He’d just taken what he wanted, no consideration. And now that Andrew’s careless words had been uttered - the words that left him exposed, that made him appear so vulnerable - he could either crush him or save him.
“Andy, some things just can’t be built. Some things are destined to become nothing.”
Like this. Andrew looked away, down at his feet, biting his lip. Like this, he means us, it can never be anything. I’m nothing to him.
Warren shook his head shortly, like he’d read Andrew’s mind. Then again, Andrew had never been that hard to read. “That doesn’t mean circumstances can’t be enjoyed in their simplicity, right? Why not try and make the most of what you get, instead of trying to make it become something it isn’t and can never be?” He paused, and Andrew chanced to look up at him, trying to discern what he was really trying to say. “Listen,” Warren continued in a harsh tone of voice. “I like you, alright? But this is all we get. Nothing more can come out of it. I told you from the beginning, I can’t have any kind of… relationship with you. If you can’t handle that, then…” He shrugged.
And Andrew understood perfectly. It wasn’t like he was daft or anything. He could never be important to Warren the way he wanted to - he could just let Warren use him, like he always had. The only other alternative was to break it off entirely. No more of anything.
But Andrew was weak. He knew what he should do, but he was afraid to do it. He didn’t want to be alone, to have to face every day knowing he’d thrown away his one chance of being close to Warren - even remotely close.
His only option was to play by his rules.
Andrew smiled shakily. “No, Warren, I want this. I want… you.”
Warren smiled back at him, satisfied. It wasn’t a pretty smile - smiles adapt to character, and Warren’s wasn’t that nice, really - but even so, it made Andrew feel all fuzzy and warm, just like it always did.
“Well, then don’t just stand there, silly. Come over here…” Warren took a step forward and was suddenly right next to him. How that had happened so fast was beyond Andrew entirely. “Let me make it all right.” A second later, Warren’s hands were unbuttoning his shirt, his lips pressed against Andrew’s, and Andrew hated himself for having to put his hands on his shoulders and push him away.
Warren gave him an impatient look. “Now what? You’re suddenly backing out on me? I thought this was what you wanted.”
“Jonathan’s upstairs,” said Andrew, blushing, looking away again. “I’d like to, but… you know… I don’t think he’d handle things if he saw us. He’d blow up or something. Like in that Bond-movie, once, you know… the one where…”
“No more Bond-movies.” Warren grabbed him by his wrists and kissed him again, this time more resolutely. Andrew found himself unable to move, but he didn’t want to move, either. “No more of that freaking bullshit, Andy. Not now.”
“Okay,” whispered Andrew, feeling awfully weak, “but what about Jonathan?”
“Short Round’s not coming down here in a while,” grinned Warren smugly. “I’ve made sure of it.”
“That’s very… meticulous of you,” Andrew breathed. A chill went through him as he felt Warren’s body press against his. Self-confidently, Warren let go of his wrists and slid his hand up Andrew’s back, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. That never got old.
“Thanks Andy,” smirked Warren. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
OH GOD.
I have written my first PG-rated fic in AGES.
Applaud me, dammit, I deserve it.
Now to go cry some more.
Big kiss, my freaky darlings.
Title: Nothing to him
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Andrew/Warren (duh, it’s my OTP!)
Rating: *sighs* Mild PG, for the first time in years. Sorry guys!
Disclaimer: Our Lord God Joss Whedon owns the boys.
Author’s note: Just ‘cause maisirmoltesen asked me to write something nice and fluffy for a change, I figured I’d go back to my roots and write a classic Wandrew one-shot. Place this anywhere you want in the time-line. Just don’t complain about it, like, waaah, it’s too cute and OOC, or, omg, I just OD’d on sugar, ‘cause it’s MEANT TO BE cute, not explicit.
”You think you could maybe build a future for us then?”
Andrew’s voice was shaking, his nervousness making him unable to speak naturally. He had to force every word out of his mouth, and as they passed over his dry lips, he almost swallowed his own tongue. Whatever he managed to utter right then would just seem so pathetic, so needy… there he was, standing right in front of Warren, so desperate, so eager for something to happen. And at the same time so terribly afraid of doing something wrong.
Warren frowned. Like Andrew’s woes would have any significance to him whatsoever. He’d never cared before, had he? He’d just taken what he wanted, no consideration. And now that Andrew’s careless words had been uttered - the words that left him exposed, that made him appear so vulnerable - he could either crush him or save him.
“Andy, some things just can’t be built. Some things are destined to become nothing.”
Like this. Andrew looked away, down at his feet, biting his lip. Like this, he means us, it can never be anything. I’m nothing to him.
Warren shook his head shortly, like he’d read Andrew’s mind. Then again, Andrew had never been that hard to read. “That doesn’t mean circumstances can’t be enjoyed in their simplicity, right? Why not try and make the most of what you get, instead of trying to make it become something it isn’t and can never be?” He paused, and Andrew chanced to look up at him, trying to discern what he was really trying to say. “Listen,” Warren continued in a harsh tone of voice. “I like you, alright? But this is all we get. Nothing more can come out of it. I told you from the beginning, I can’t have any kind of… relationship with you. If you can’t handle that, then…” He shrugged.
And Andrew understood perfectly. It wasn’t like he was daft or anything. He could never be important to Warren the way he wanted to - he could just let Warren use him, like he always had. The only other alternative was to break it off entirely. No more of anything.
But Andrew was weak. He knew what he should do, but he was afraid to do it. He didn’t want to be alone, to have to face every day knowing he’d thrown away his one chance of being close to Warren - even remotely close.
His only option was to play by his rules.
Andrew smiled shakily. “No, Warren, I want this. I want… you.”
Warren smiled back at him, satisfied. It wasn’t a pretty smile - smiles adapt to character, and Warren’s wasn’t that nice, really - but even so, it made Andrew feel all fuzzy and warm, just like it always did.
“Well, then don’t just stand there, silly. Come over here…” Warren took a step forward and was suddenly right next to him. How that had happened so fast was beyond Andrew entirely. “Let me make it all right.” A second later, Warren’s hands were unbuttoning his shirt, his lips pressed against Andrew’s, and Andrew hated himself for having to put his hands on his shoulders and push him away.
Warren gave him an impatient look. “Now what? You’re suddenly backing out on me? I thought this was what you wanted.”
“Jonathan’s upstairs,” said Andrew, blushing, looking away again. “I’d like to, but… you know… I don’t think he’d handle things if he saw us. He’d blow up or something. Like in that Bond-movie, once, you know… the one where…”
“No more Bond-movies.” Warren grabbed him by his wrists and kissed him again, this time more resolutely. Andrew found himself unable to move, but he didn’t want to move, either. “No more of that freaking bullshit, Andy. Not now.”
“Okay,” whispered Andrew, feeling awfully weak, “but what about Jonathan?”
“Short Round’s not coming down here in a while,” grinned Warren smugly. “I’ve made sure of it.”
“That’s very… meticulous of you,” Andrew breathed. A chill went through him as he felt Warren’s body press against his. Self-confidently, Warren let go of his wrists and slid his hand up Andrew’s back, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. That never got old.
“Thanks Andy,” smirked Warren. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
OH GOD.
I have written my first PG-rated fic in AGES.
Applaud me, dammit, I deserve it.
Now to go cry some more.
Big kiss, my freaky darlings.