April 2008
2,500 words
Written for Mireille in the minor characters round at maleslashminis. Request found after the fic.
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Montréal, P.Q.: A city of southern Quebec, Canada, on Montreal Island in the St. Lawrence River. Named after Mount Royal, a hill at its center, it was founded by the French as Ville Marie de Montréal in 1642 and grew rapidly as a fur-trading center and starting point for western exploration. The English captured the city in 1760. Today Montreal is a major Canadian port and a cultural, commercial, and industrial hub. Population: 1,080,000. source: dictionary.com
When Giles had said that they could be traveling "extensively" for the Council if they chose to work there, at least, at the beginning so that they could assess the Slayers situation, Xander had thought--rightfully--that it meant they wouldn't stay very long in the same place. It worked for him.
Then Giles had paired them up and Xander had wanted to ask in which dimension this was fair. Buffy and Willow would be traveling with someone they knew and loved (and they would settle somewhere too, Xander was sure of that, by the time September rolled around because of school and other things that Xander didn't want to think about), someone it made sense for them to be with, Xander... not so much.
"Andrew, can you stop with the babbling already? I'm getting a headache." Now, he was reduced to this; an assignment, a rental car, a map, and Andrew. Who was doing his best to drive Xander crazy.
"But this is Montreal, Xander..."
"Exactly," Xander snapped. "It's a city I've never, ever driven in, we're stuck in rush hour traffic, I have no idea if we missed our exit or not because all the damn signs are in French, and you keep yapping in my ears about how "beautiful" the place is. Well, guess what, I don't know how beautiful it is because all I can see is a bunch of cars and whatever scrap of highway is visible." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and scratched underneath his eyepatch before heaving a sigh--they'd been traveling for two days, out of China and straight into another city whose language was not English.
"What's our exit again?" he asked, trying not to sound as exhausted and annoyed as he felt. It wasn't Andrew's fault that their Chinese assignment had gone wrong or that Giles had wanted them out of there and into here as soon as possible, or that Xander couldn't sleep at all on an airplane or in airports--not Andrew's fault or anyone's really.
"Rue de la Montagne," Andrew replied tersely.
Xander glanced at him while traffic was almost at a stand-still, and he tried for a smile. "We can do all the sightseeing you want as soon as we're at the hotel... What exit number is that?"
"I can't see." Andrew sighed and picked up the map again. "And no, I won't do any sightseeing, because when we get to the hotel, we have to call Mr. Giles, and start looking for the Wayward Slayer. There is no time. And such is the life of a superhero."
One Slayer, Giles had said, just one doing all the carnage she could downtown. As much as taking out known gang members and mob affiliates helped the city's crime rate, it still wasn't in the Slayer's Handbook.
"We'll find time." Xander had no idea when "you" or "I" had morphed into "we", but it had happened somewhere between New Delhi and the little city just an hour out of Bangkok that Xander couldn't remember the name of.
Andrew wasn't all that bad to hang around, once you got over the "I was once evil, and now I'm just an annoying geek" part.
Xander might even, maybe, be starting to like Andrew. More than like. Not that he'd admit it under the threat of torture. Well, okay, maybe if torture was involved.
Their hotel room at the Marriott was a step up from the room they'd shared in Bangkok. Although, that really wasn't a hard thing to beat. Still, step up. More than a step up. It was--Xander wasn't sure how the Council would pay for it, but hey, wherever Giles asked them to go, Xander went.
The first thing Giles said on the phone when Xander called after they got settled was "get some sleep. The assignment can wait until tomorrow night." Xander didn't argue.
Andrew, on the other hand, immediately let it known--quite loudly, actually, and Xander tried not to wince in a way that Andrew would notice--that he didn't approve, since the Slayer could be going on a rampage right now.
"Oh, please, shut up and go to bed," Xander snapped. He felt bad when he looked up again, and saw the look on Andrew's face. "Look, we've been traveling for days, even if we do go out there and try to find her--in a city we know nothing about--we're pretty much demon food. And I want to have breakfast in the morning, not be some vampire's breakfast, okay?"
"Yeah," Andrew sighed. "I guess you have a point."
"I have no idea where you get all your energy, but I know I'm wiped." Xander needed more than just sleep, he needed about a month off. When they'd first set out, two months after Sunnydale had fallen, he'd been ready for this, for moving, never looking back; he was tired now. He wanted to stay somewhere long enough to get his breath back.
Maybe this was the place to do this. Andrew liked the city, and from what Xander had read online when Giles had sent them the assignment, there was a lot to see. And the room didn't suck.
* * *
The next morning, Andrew slipped out while Xander was in the shower with a half-hearted "I'm getting breakfast" said through the door. He wasn't back by the time Xander got out, with a towel across his hips.
Xander picked a clean pair of boxers, some jeans and a t-shirt out of his suitcase, clutching them with one hand. He was shutting the bathroom door again when his cellphone rang. "Right, always the worst timing," he muttered. Xander left his clothes on the toilet seat, and went back into the room. "Xander Harris."
"It's Giles. How are you doing?" The voice on the other end of the line was a little bit too cheerful for this early in the morning.
Xander frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. Giles never called his early; most of the time, he waited for them to call him, not the other way around. "Exhausted still. What's ya got for us?"
"Good news, I suppose," Giles said. "The Slayer you were to find in Montreal was apprehended by the police at dawn this morning on criminal charges. I've communicated with them, and I'm having a crew pick her up early this afternoon."
"Oh for Christ's..." Xander stopped himself before he could say something he'd regret and sighed. "So I guess now you have yet another assignment for us?" He wanted to say "no," no, a thousand times no; he had enough of traveling for a while, and he wanted to sleep and rest and learn some damn French while he was at it.
And maybe take Andrew out on a date.
Dates were scary stuff, and a guy would need time to prepare for one, time in which he didn't have to be on an airplane or in a car or actually moving at all. Because it was mostly the mental kind of preparation that Xander needed, and traveling was really bad for his brain. He was more than tired of the freaking out part and the never having the energy to deal with this stuff and...
"Yes, actually, but it wouldn't require much traveling from you. We've had words of another possible Slayer sighting in Vermont."
"I thought the U.S. was Faith's turf."
Giles let out a short breath. "Usually, yes, but she's in Washington state at the moment; you're closer to the target."
"No." Xander was surprised that he managed to put so much conviction into one little word, especially when he hadn't planned to say that word out loud. "I'm sorry, I know you need us and you're working your ass off out there too, but I'm drained, Giles. We've been traveling non-stop for two months; there was Russia, and Georgia, Pakistan, India, China, and now Canada, and I need to stay still for a little while. Just... I don't know, a month? In the same place, just long enough to get my grove back."
"I--Of course, Xander, I hadn't thought... I don't know why I assumed Andrew and yourself would be okay... Of course you need some rest." Giles sounded contrite, guilty all of a sudden.
Xander took a deep quiet breath to steel himself for the rest of the conversation. He'd started it, he couldn't back out now. "I know the girls are okay, because--you know Andrew and I just have the worst luck when it comes to finding the Slayers, and we need to stay long enough in one place to have an actual sleeping schedule."
"Xander, I'm sorry. Do take some time. Faith should be done in Washington in the next week, and the Slayer in Vermont is not a security threat. You're welcome to stay at the hotel--the Council will pay for all your expenses, of course."
"I'm the one who's sorry, Giles," Xander said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "I don't want to let you down--"
"Not at all!" Giles interrupted him. "I should have paid more attention to what I was asking of you. You both have traveled a tremendous amount the past two months. Is Montreal okay for a longer stay? Otherwise, let me know if there's anywhere else you'd like to spend your vacation."
Xander remembered the look on Andrew's face when their plane had landed and the babbling in the car, and he said: "Montreal's fine."
He hung up the phone a moment later, and sat there, staring at the wall. He had time to... How did you ask a guy out on a date? More importantly, where would you take a guy on a date?
Maybe somewhere loud like a dance club with the music blaring; this way, Xander wouldn't have to talk too much and make a fool of himself.
Andrew didn't strike him as the dancing type, though. Xander had never missed the Bronze as much as he did then. Music, food, conversation topics--those damned cockroaches worked every time as a conversation opener--perfect first date material.
Maybe Montreal had a Bronze-look-alike somewhere.
* * *
Three days of sleeping, eating, watching TV, sleeping some more--and not much else--later, Xander came back with dinner to find their hotel room empty. He could hear the shower going, and Andrew's suitcase was open with clothes scattered around--something absolutely not like Andrew at all.
Something caught Xander's eye when he put down the bags of food on the table in the corner. It was--just like it'd been since the first afternoon--filled with papers and pens and Andrew's laptop, but the sheet of paper at the top looked nothing like the reports Andrew was filling out for Giles.
Xander picked it up, saw his name at the very top, and kept reading. "Uh," he mumbled. "That's... new."
"Xander? You weren't supposed to be back. I--I just grabbed a shower, and I'm--" Andrew stopped in the middle of his sentence. He was just a few feet from the bathroom, looking down with the towel around his waist not hiding the blush that was spreading on his body.
Wet, naked, blushing chest.
Xander licked his lips nervously. "I, uh--" He had to look away from Andrew. He hadn't had time to stop the freaking out yet, just three days wasn't enough. He'd asked the clerk at the front desk about restaurants and nightclubs in the area--there was an ice skating rink in the office building next door, and that had given Xander a few ideas--but that was as far as he'd gone.
Well, there was a time for everything. "Andrew?" he said, voice shaking only a little. "I'm not a girl, and I'm not going to start throwing furniture at you either." Xander gave Andrew the piece of paper, and resisted the urge to touch the blush on Andrew's shoulder.
"I--I, uh--I," Andrew stuttered, turning bright red as he stuffed the poem in the front pocket of his backpack. "Can we pretend you never saw that?"
"Why?" Xander didn't want to sound amused--the last thing Andrew needed was Xander laughing at him--but it was that or run, and running really wasn't Xander's number one plan. Also, it was hard not to smile at all. Klingon Love Poetry. Andrew had written him poetry Klingon style.
"Because, I--" Andrew shifted from foot to foot and looked down. "You know it's just--"
Xander didn't know what to do next, but he knew he wanted Andrew to stop talking. "Shut up," he said. He crossed the few steps between them and cupped Andrew's warm, red cheek. "Nobody ever wrote me poetry."
"I--uh, it's nothing, I don't--" Andrew gulped loud enough for Xander to hear, and looked up from beneath his lashes. The blush had spread up to his ears and Xander couldn't look away.
"Sure, okay," Xander replied with a shrug, but he didn't take his hand away. "Cause, if you did, I could kiss you now, but if you don't, then fine."
"No!" Andrew exclaimed, eyes shifting to Xander's mouth. "I do, I--I really do. You're--you're Xander, and I--"
Xander interrupted him, heart beating hard in his chest, and pressed their lips together in a short, very, very short, kiss. "I..." Xander apparently wasn't any good than Andrew at talking about things. "Do you--do you like music--I mean dancing? Cause I was thinking I could take you out for lunch--dinner, and--"
"Yeah--yes, okay," Andrew answered, putting both hands on Xander's shoulders. "Maybe--maybe you should kiss me again?"
That was a good idea. They had a whole month to get a handle on things now, plenty of time to get over how freaky it all was. And maybe they'd even be good at this. Maybe.
Xander felt the towel that had been on Andrew's hips slipping down between them, and looked up, taking a deep breath. He could do this, the whole thing. As long as Andrew kept looking at him like this, Xander could do anything.
Nevertheless, kissing was the easiest part. So Xander did. It turned out too that kissing Andrew was just like kissing anyone else. It could lead to much more interesting things.
* * *
Request:
Requested pairing: Andrew/Xander
Up to three things you want in your story: Klingon love poetry; music; a location that is not Sunnydale, the UK, or Africa
Up to two things you *don't* want: massive angst; character-bashing