UC Sunnydale, Kresge Hall, November 18th, 2000
"So what is this stuff again?" Larry asked, and Xander blinked at him, because one of the two bottles was half empty, and--
"Dude, the time to ask that was sooo three hours ago. B'fore you started drinking...it." Xander was hazy on the timing, but they'd been sitting there a while, anyhow. Long enough to get through three and a half Bitterwoman re-runs and an infomercial for something that was either a fruit dip or a depilatory cream - possibly both.
"Did. Y'told me, I just forgot."
"Oh. Okay." Xander didn't remember that, though for some reason the leg-waxing commercial was pretty clearly burned in his head. Probably because they were nice legs. "S'black evil from space."
He poured a little more into Larry's dixie cup, and a lot more into his own. Well, as 'lot' as you can get when you're pouring into a dixie cup; they'd been making up for that by refilling a lot, on the large scale of lots.
"S'not what you said last time."
"What'd I shay lash time?" Xander asked through half a mouthful of black space evil. "Hey-- Lionessh just flashed nipple again - you got to drink."
"Said... don't remember." Larry frowned at the screen. "S'game's so for straightboys, y'know. Should have t'drink whenever Howard bends over in those pants.""
"I AM a straight boy." Xander drank at the pants, and also so he didn't have to look at the eyerolling. "Well, half."
"Yeah, on your mother's side. "
"Oh, your momma jokes, yay. They're comedy gold." Xander laughed, though he was almost sure he meant it to be sarcastic. "Anyways if you don't r'memberer what I said then how--"
"Wait!" Larry held up one hand, the one without the drink in it, which was good because if it was the drink one he'd have spilled it all over the frog. The stuffed one, not the purple one, because the purple one was...not here.
They were sitting on Xander's bed less because it was easier to see the tv from there than because it was easier for them both to reach the bottle, not that either of them remembered the logic they were using when they started this.
Or really they did remember, but only the very, very basic math of 'It's Saturday night and I ain't got nobody' + 'It's the day that it is and I can't do another night of ice cream and kittens with Willow and the girl who used to be my Ethics teacher' = 'Bitterwoman drinking game.' As you do.
"I remember. You said...you said it was a present."
Xander nodded and sloshed the liquid around in the bottle. "Yeah. Was." He held it up to his face and stared at the tv screen through it. "Hey, s'not really black. S'reallyreallyreallyreally--"
Larry slapped him on the back. "Stuck, dude."
"--thanks. Really dark purple." The bottom of the bottle was a ring of violet light when the tv flared brightly enough, and that was too familiar today, so he tipped it down and poured a little more. "Lavaberries."
"Good stuff." Larry raised his cup like he was toasting, and Xander frowned.
"No, evil. An' if you're gonna toast, do it right. Gotta toast to something."
"Hokay." His roommate nodded. "To...uh." Then he said it, and Xander wished kinda that he were as drunk as he was pretending to be. "Willow n' her witchyfrens makin' their port-a-thingy work."
Xander didn't raise his cup.
"What, s'what you want, innit?" Larry peered at him over the rim of a paper cup that'd gone soggy with too many re-fillings. "So's you can go see--" He waved a hand at the photos on Xander's desk, and he could mean almost any of them and still be right, but he didn't. He hadn't stopped teasing Xander about dating 'that Parker dude' but Larry knew which picture was which.
"It's not gonna work," Xander said quietly. And... kind of sad and not and...like he could breathe a little bit deeper, once he let the words out.
"Whatcha mean?" Larry asked, right up...wayyy too close to his face for some reason, and with the true innocence of someone who really is as drunk as he's not pretending to be. Warm hand on his shoulder, warm even through his sweatshirt, and it wasn't...right, because it shouldn't be that warm, not through leather, but there wasn't any, just cotton and skin. "Why not?"
It's not that Xander wasn't drunk, it's just that he wasn't as drunk as he wished he was. "Dunno. Don't even know why I know, I just..." He shook his head. "Maybe I don't. Might just wish I did, so I could stop..." He crumpled his empty cup in his hand, and just took a swig from the bottle. "Wish they'd stop. Keep thinking I can do this, s'all good, class, work, Sunnydale emergency of the day and then Willow says she's gonna try again and I'm right back there hoping, and man, I can't take that."
Wide blue eyes, slightly unfocused as they stared at him. "So what, y'just...give up?"
"No." Not that, because whatever that was made Xander shake his head til his ears started to ring. "No, but..."
He was holding the bottle-neck so tightly his knuckles were white, and the air in his chest was back to burning like the vodka went down the wrong way, so Xander stopped. Let his fingers creak as they unfolded, let the wet, crumpled cup, pressed against the glass, fall to the floor. Let the bottle itself slide to the blanket between his bent knees, opened both his hands wide, closed his eyes and breathed.
"Whatcha doing?" Reallyreallyreally waaaaaay too close when Xander looked again. Eyes still innocent, voice maybenotsomuch. Hand...
Xander should probably do something about where the hand was, and maybe not the thing that he was doing, but maybe he was as drunk as he thought he was after all, or maybe he'll just say that in his head tomorrow morning when they're not saying a word because this so never happened.
"Letting go."
Maybe and maybe not, not entirely, and maybe somewhere Callisto was patiently wearing the point off a spoon, but Xander's chest didn't hurt, and the guy who used to beat him up in middle school tasted like lavaberries, and it wasn't okay, but it's closer to there than he was yesterday, and that's something.
[*hides from Cal, OMG*]
"Dude, the time to ask that was sooo three hours ago. B'fore you started drinking...it." Xander was hazy on the timing, but they'd been sitting there a while, anyhow. Long enough to get through three and a half Bitterwoman re-runs and an infomercial for something that was either a fruit dip or a depilatory cream - possibly both.
"Did. Y'told me, I just forgot."
"Oh. Okay." Xander didn't remember that, though for some reason the leg-waxing commercial was pretty clearly burned in his head. Probably because they were nice legs. "S'black evil from space."
He poured a little more into Larry's dixie cup, and a lot more into his own. Well, as 'lot' as you can get when you're pouring into a dixie cup; they'd been making up for that by refilling a lot, on the large scale of lots.
"S'not what you said last time."
"What'd I shay lash time?" Xander asked through half a mouthful of black space evil. "Hey-- Lionessh just flashed nipple again - you got to drink."
"Said... don't remember." Larry frowned at the screen. "S'game's so for straightboys, y'know. Should have t'drink whenever Howard bends over in those pants.""
"I AM a straight boy." Xander drank at the pants, and also so he didn't have to look at the eyerolling. "Well, half."
"Yeah, on your mother's side. "
"Oh, your momma jokes, yay. They're comedy gold." Xander laughed, though he was almost sure he meant it to be sarcastic. "Anyways if you don't r'memberer what I said then how--"
"Wait!" Larry held up one hand, the one without the drink in it, which was good because if it was the drink one he'd have spilled it all over the frog. The stuffed one, not the purple one, because the purple one was...not here.
They were sitting on Xander's bed less because it was easier to see the tv from there than because it was easier for them both to reach the bottle, not that either of them remembered the logic they were using when they started this.
Or really they did remember, but only the very, very basic math of 'It's Saturday night and I ain't got nobody' + 'It's the day that it is and I can't do another night of ice cream and kittens with Willow and the girl who used to be my Ethics teacher' = 'Bitterwoman drinking game.' As you do.
"I remember. You said...you said it was a present."
Xander nodded and sloshed the liquid around in the bottle. "Yeah. Was." He held it up to his face and stared at the tv screen through it. "Hey, s'not really black. S'reallyreallyreallyreally--"
Larry slapped him on the back. "Stuck, dude."
"--thanks. Really dark purple." The bottom of the bottle was a ring of violet light when the tv flared brightly enough, and that was too familiar today, so he tipped it down and poured a little more. "Lavaberries."
"Good stuff." Larry raised his cup like he was toasting, and Xander frowned.
"No, evil. An' if you're gonna toast, do it right. Gotta toast to something."
"Hokay." His roommate nodded. "To...uh." Then he said it, and Xander wished kinda that he were as drunk as he was pretending to be. "Willow n' her witchyfrens makin' their port-a-thingy work."
Xander didn't raise his cup.
"What, s'what you want, innit?" Larry peered at him over the rim of a paper cup that'd gone soggy with too many re-fillings. "So's you can go see--" He waved a hand at the photos on Xander's desk, and he could mean almost any of them and still be right, but he didn't. He hadn't stopped teasing Xander about dating 'that Parker dude' but Larry knew which picture was which.
"It's not gonna work," Xander said quietly. And... kind of sad and not and...like he could breathe a little bit deeper, once he let the words out.
"Whatcha mean?" Larry asked, right up...wayyy too close to his face for some reason, and with the true innocence of someone who really is as drunk as he's not pretending to be. Warm hand on his shoulder, warm even through his sweatshirt, and it wasn't...right, because it shouldn't be that warm, not through leather, but there wasn't any, just cotton and skin. "Why not?"
It's not that Xander wasn't drunk, it's just that he wasn't as drunk as he wished he was. "Dunno. Don't even know why I know, I just..." He shook his head. "Maybe I don't. Might just wish I did, so I could stop..." He crumpled his empty cup in his hand, and just took a swig from the bottle. "Wish they'd stop. Keep thinking I can do this, s'all good, class, work, Sunnydale emergency of the day and then Willow says she's gonna try again and I'm right back there hoping, and man, I can't take that."
Wide blue eyes, slightly unfocused as they stared at him. "So what, y'just...give up?"
"No." Not that, because whatever that was made Xander shake his head til his ears started to ring. "No, but..."
He was holding the bottle-neck so tightly his knuckles were white, and the air in his chest was back to burning like the vodka went down the wrong way, so Xander stopped. Let his fingers creak as they unfolded, let the wet, crumpled cup, pressed against the glass, fall to the floor. Let the bottle itself slide to the blanket between his bent knees, opened both his hands wide, closed his eyes and breathed.
"Whatcha doing?" Reallyreallyreally waaaaaay too close when Xander looked again. Eyes still innocent, voice maybenotsomuch. Hand...
Xander should probably do something about where the hand was, and maybe not the thing that he was doing, but maybe he was as drunk as he thought he was after all, or maybe he'll just say that in his head tomorrow morning when they're not saying a word because this so never happened.
"Letting go."
Maybe and maybe not, not entirely, and maybe somewhere Callisto was patiently wearing the point off a spoon, but Xander's chest didn't hurt, and the guy who used to beat him up in middle school tasted like lavaberries, and it wasn't okay, but it's closer to there than he was yesterday, and that's something.
[*hides from Cal, OMG*]