Hums that never leave you.
title | Hums that never leave you.
chapter | 1/1
rating | PG-13
characters/pairings | Angel/Xander
summary | Maybe it’s the smell of coffee and earth, all mixed into the perfect combination of heavy,
notes|Angst,slight rafrence to sexual activity, Thanks to Buffy Sunnydale for betaing this for me she did such a great job!
___________
He always knows when Xander is in the room. He doesn’t have to even speak--he can stand meters away and Angel knows. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee and earth, all mixed into the perfect combination of heavy, too-quick steps as he has trouble ever really standing still. Angel thinks it’s a nervous habit from years before he knew the boy, before he fell for the boy, before he couldn’t see the boy. He smiles and knows he’s in the room. He gives off heat. He’s sweating and giving off pheromones like crazy. He was most likely working out.
Angel can’t really say when he started filling out. All he knows is that when he came back, his body wasn’t that of a young boy’s but of a man. It was his hands that gave it away. He came with Willow-Angel had been desperate at the time, lost like never before, his darkness swallowed him whole, and his world became shadows and memories. So when Xander had taken his hand and let him feel around his eye patch, he gulped at the feel of the boy’s hand heavy over his. It was oh so incredibly warm. With not one single quip, the boy just nodded in understanding and hugged him-- something they had never done before. His chest expanded with every beat of Xander’s warm heart against his cold dead chest and that’s when he knew.
As he struggled to remember all the color he had ever seen-- all the blood, and Spike with his ridiculous bleached hair, and Dru swirling around him, and Darla (she had such bright eyes) seeing Buffy for the first time, the sun, he would never see the sun again--it made him want to crumble. His eyes filled with tears and he held on with all of his might, because if he let himself go he would fall. The boy just held him and he smelled of warmth and sympathy and he wanted to keep him.
It was when he didn’t leave that things started to change. He called him “a brooding version of Daredevil” and made sure he knew every step, made sure that no one ever moved the cups for his blood. He trained with him, and when he knew he was ready, they hunted and the vampire dusting to the ground became a satisfying sound to his ear. Every sound Xander ever made he knew by memory. It was when Fred would panic because she forgot to move a book from his desk. Xander would smile take the book and read to him, his voice calm and ever so patient.
He wasn’t sure when it happened, when he knew. When he was smiling before touching him, when he was heavy and sad, and his footsteps dragged just a little and the furrow in his brow against his thumb became what made his soul hurt. The smile in his voice made him light and he wished he could see him smile. It felt like a betrayal when he could remember every part of Buffy but not see how his brown eyes shone, and the anger in him swelled until the punching bag fell to the ground. Taking his fist in his hand, Xander led him to the bedroom and let him memorize every part of his body. Every whine and moan he heard he wanted to learn by heart until Xander was all that had ever mattered; until every part of him was his, and all he could remember was Xander and his smell, and all he could feel was himself tremble inside him, and just for a second he could remember exactly how the sun felt on his skin because that’s how Xander felt: warm, smooth, and filled with hope. He remembered every part of Buffy from when he first saw her, but he knew if he ever saw Xander smile again, that’s all it would take to lose his soul.
chapter | 1/1
rating | PG-13
characters/pairings | Angel/Xander
summary | Maybe it’s the smell of coffee and earth, all mixed into the perfect combination of heavy,
notes|Angst,slight rafrence to sexual activity, Thanks to Buffy Sunnydale for betaing this for me she did such a great job!
___________
He always knows when Xander is in the room. He doesn’t have to even speak--he can stand meters away and Angel knows. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee and earth, all mixed into the perfect combination of heavy, too-quick steps as he has trouble ever really standing still. Angel thinks it’s a nervous habit from years before he knew the boy, before he fell for the boy, before he couldn’t see the boy. He smiles and knows he’s in the room. He gives off heat. He’s sweating and giving off pheromones like crazy. He was most likely working out.
Angel can’t really say when he started filling out. All he knows is that when he came back, his body wasn’t that of a young boy’s but of a man. It was his hands that gave it away. He came with Willow-Angel had been desperate at the time, lost like never before, his darkness swallowed him whole, and his world became shadows and memories. So when Xander had taken his hand and let him feel around his eye patch, he gulped at the feel of the boy’s hand heavy over his. It was oh so incredibly warm. With not one single quip, the boy just nodded in understanding and hugged him-- something they had never done before. His chest expanded with every beat of Xander’s warm heart against his cold dead chest and that’s when he knew.
As he struggled to remember all the color he had ever seen-- all the blood, and Spike with his ridiculous bleached hair, and Dru swirling around him, and Darla (she had such bright eyes) seeing Buffy for the first time, the sun, he would never see the sun again--it made him want to crumble. His eyes filled with tears and he held on with all of his might, because if he let himself go he would fall. The boy just held him and he smelled of warmth and sympathy and he wanted to keep him.
It was when he didn’t leave that things started to change. He called him “a brooding version of Daredevil” and made sure he knew every step, made sure that no one ever moved the cups for his blood. He trained with him, and when he knew he was ready, they hunted and the vampire dusting to the ground became a satisfying sound to his ear. Every sound Xander ever made he knew by memory. It was when Fred would panic because she forgot to move a book from his desk. Xander would smile take the book and read to him, his voice calm and ever so patient.
He wasn’t sure when it happened, when he knew. When he was smiling before touching him, when he was heavy and sad, and his footsteps dragged just a little and the furrow in his brow against his thumb became what made his soul hurt. The smile in his voice made him light and he wished he could see him smile. It felt like a betrayal when he could remember every part of Buffy but not see how his brown eyes shone, and the anger in him swelled until the punching bag fell to the ground. Taking his fist in his hand, Xander led him to the bedroom and let him memorize every part of his body. Every whine and moan he heard he wanted to learn by heart until Xander was all that had ever mattered; until every part of him was his, and all he could remember was Xander and his smell, and all he could feel was himself tremble inside him, and just for a second he could remember exactly how the sun felt on his skin because that’s how Xander felt: warm, smooth, and filled with hope. He remembered every part of Buffy from when he first saw her, but he knew if he ever saw Xander smile again, that’s all it would take to lose his soul.