BUFFY: Misery and Happiness
Title: Misery and Happiness
Characters/Pairing: Buffy/Xander, Willow
Word Count: 363
Rating: G
Summary: Happiness doodles on a cocktail napkin and waits for you to figure out that you should really lose this loser...
Notes: Written for _chibidragon_ as a request. Still unrequited, but one of these days I will write her a proper Buffy/Xander fic. Set at some point post season seven, with some vague borrowing from the season eight comics.
Disclaimer: Not Joss Whedon, don't own Buffy.
Xander's learned it's best not to watch Buffy at times like this. Because he watches her, and he gets that uncomfortable, uncertain, slightly nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach that's part jealousy and part nervousness and he doesn't even know what else. It's different when they're at home - it's a freaking castle in Scotland populated by Slayers, he's the only guy there, Buffy's single - there's no one to be jealous of.
And then Buffy finds a reason to go to London, and Xander insists on tagging along, and he remembers why he doesn't do that. Because they always decide to spend at least one night at some club, like they're trying to bring back old times at the Bronze, Buffy always ends up dancing and Xander ends up sitting there, doodling on cocktail napkins and trying to pretend he's not watching her. One thing he has found is that it's remarkably hard to doodle in a straight line when you lack depth perception, and very hard to surreptitiously watch someone out of the corner of your eye when you've only got the one.
This time Willow's with them, and that makes the subtle thing even harder, because Willow always Knows, in a way that deserves capital letters.
"It's been seven years, Xander," she says, with a bit of a smile.
Xander looks quickly away from Buffy (dancing way too close to some guy Xander doesn't like the look of on principle), and over to Willow. "What?"
"Are you ever going to do anything?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Wil. I'm drawing here." He looks down at what he'd been doodling on his napkin, and quickly balls it up into his hand. It's either a lopsided heart, or a poorly-drawn, blobby demon. Xander's going to go with the demon. Less embarrassing, less like a teenage girl...
Willow raises an eyebrow at him, and he knows with a really unpleasant sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that she saw, and she's not going to believe the demon angle. He tries anyway. "Did I ever mention how hard it is to draw with no depth perception?"
Characters/Pairing: Buffy/Xander, Willow
Word Count: 363
Rating: G
Summary: Happiness doodles on a cocktail napkin and waits for you to figure out that you should really lose this loser...
Notes: Written for _chibidragon_ as a request. Still unrequited, but one of these days I will write her a proper Buffy/Xander fic. Set at some point post season seven, with some vague borrowing from the season eight comics.
Disclaimer: Not Joss Whedon, don't own Buffy.
Xander's learned it's best not to watch Buffy at times like this. Because he watches her, and he gets that uncomfortable, uncertain, slightly nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach that's part jealousy and part nervousness and he doesn't even know what else. It's different when they're at home - it's a freaking castle in Scotland populated by Slayers, he's the only guy there, Buffy's single - there's no one to be jealous of.
And then Buffy finds a reason to go to London, and Xander insists on tagging along, and he remembers why he doesn't do that. Because they always decide to spend at least one night at some club, like they're trying to bring back old times at the Bronze, Buffy always ends up dancing and Xander ends up sitting there, doodling on cocktail napkins and trying to pretend he's not watching her. One thing he has found is that it's remarkably hard to doodle in a straight line when you lack depth perception, and very hard to surreptitiously watch someone out of the corner of your eye when you've only got the one.
This time Willow's with them, and that makes the subtle thing even harder, because Willow always Knows, in a way that deserves capital letters.
"It's been seven years, Xander," she says, with a bit of a smile.
Xander looks quickly away from Buffy (dancing way too close to some guy Xander doesn't like the look of on principle), and over to Willow. "What?"
"Are you ever going to do anything?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Wil. I'm drawing here." He looks down at what he'd been doodling on his napkin, and quickly balls it up into his hand. It's either a lopsided heart, or a poorly-drawn, blobby demon. Xander's going to go with the demon. Less embarrassing, less like a teenage girl...
Willow raises an eyebrow at him, and he knows with a really unpleasant sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that she saw, and she's not going to believe the demon angle. He tries anyway. "Did I ever mention how hard it is to draw with no depth perception?"