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May. 11th, 2003 10:13 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xandrewThe Dirt and Dust of Countless Ages
By the time Andrew is dressed, Xander has more or less pulled himself together. The sight of his original outfit, lying in a crumpled heap on the bed while Andrew changes in the bathroom, probably helps. If Xander pictures him in Bad Guy black, it’s easier to imagine him killing Jonathon and starting this whole new apocalypse, and then he can concentrate on his prison warden role instead of wanting to open the metaphorical cage and set the little rodent free.
He tries to hold on to that thought when Andrew re-emerges, still looking painfully skinny in baggy T-shirt and faded grey sweats. He pads across the floor to retrieve his clothes and shoes, bundling them up in his arms. Xander tries not to look at the bruised wrists; tries to remind himself that Andrew must be watched like a hawk or who knows what he’ll try. Doesn’t bother to speak as he collects detergent and fabric softener from the kitchen, because he can’t say for sure that his voice will hold.
They walk out the door side by side, and Xander places a palm on Andrew’s back. He feels the guy flinch at the contact, frozen for a moment like the deer that’s just spotted the hunter, and then Andrew shifts and relaxes a little. When he’s certain Andrew isn’t going to try anything, his fingers curl and grasp a handful of lurid yellow T-shirt.
“You’re not going anywhere.” It isn’t a threat, just a reminder. He pulls slightly, and Andrew stumbles half a step back, until Xander releases him and leaves his palm to rest between Andrew’s shoulder blades. “I just don’t need my neighbours to know I have a hostage.” His voice is low and even: if he tries to put any kind of emotion in it, he’s certain he won’t be able to finish speaking.
They carry on in silence. Xander holds back a gasp of surprise when they reach the top of the stairs and come face to face with Mrs Miller from the next floor up. She quirks an eyebrow at him, glancing between him and his captive, then simply mutters a confused “hello” before carrying on towards the next flight. She can’t know, Xander tells himself, there’s no way she can know. Beside him, Andrew has started to blush, and with a lurch to his stomach Xander realises how degrading this must be for him. It’s one thing to be a hostage in private, but now he’s being frogmarched through a public building. He increases his pace, pushing Andrew onwards, getting them to the laundry room as quickly as possible.
There’s no describing his relief upon finding that it’s empty. He closes the door behind them with a pointed glance at Andrew, letting him know again that he can’t run away, then takes Andrew’s balled-up clothes and stuffs them into one of the machines. They have automatic washing machines here, which are quiet and efficient, but leave Xander just a little nostalgic for some kind of interaction with the whole washing-drying process. There’s nothing to do in the laundry room but sit and watch the clothes go round and round. He’s even timed the basic wash/dry cycle of the combination machines out of sheer boredom, and has counted the number of times the drum spins in five minutes when it switches over to tumble-dry. The thought of spending one hour and twenty-three minutes in here with Andrew looms up like really dull tidal wave, and he decides they aren’t going to wait around for Andrew’s clothes.
Once the machine is programmed, he looks back over at Andrew and announces that they’re going back upstairs.
“It smells funny in here,” Andrew comments as he heads over to the door. It’s the first thing he’s said since he came back out of the bathroom, and it surprises Xander, so it takes him a moment to reply.
“That’s the smell of clean,” he points out. “Have you forgotten that already?” Andrew’s face creases into worried confusion. Xander just shakes his head and carries on out the door. When Andrew falls into step beside him, he realises that Andrew smells clinically fresh, with just a faint hint of Xander’s shower gel lingering on his skin.
Andrew loiters in the kitchen when they get back inside the apartment, evidently unsure what he’s supposed to be doing. Xander heads straight for the TV, flicking through stations with the remote to find the best way to kill one hour and twenty-three minutes (or is it twenty-one minutes since they walked back upstairs?). On some chat-show, a woman built like a candied apple on a stick is yelling at her even rounder husband for doing the dirty with her brother, and Xander decides he isn’t going to find better entertainment at this time of day, so he sticks with that station, dropping on to the couch and kicking off his shoes.
“You can sit down, you know.” Andrew still stands by the door, his shoes in his hands, looking completely lost. He dithers a moment more, then steps cautiously across the floor to perch himself on the couch. Like a wild rabbit, Xander decides. The ones that look up from what they’re doing every few seconds to check for danger. The ones that are always ready to run away. He wonders again how this guy ever passed for evil.
Five minutes later and Andrew’s yelling at the apple-woman for being a complete idiot.
“Why the heck did you marry him in the first place? He’s the gayest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Xander stopped watching the show as soon as Andrew started talking back to it. He’s finding the shouting in his living room far more entertaining. Andrew has said more in the past minute than he’s said since they left Buffy’s house.
When they were kids, Willow gave Xander a kaleidoscope for his birthday. He’d hold it up to the light and keep turning it, so the colours kept changing and cycling. Watching Andrew is like watching a human kaleidoscope. It takes just the slightest distraction to turn him and make him change. It’s probably just a short attention span, Xander decides, but it’s like meeting an entirely different Andrew.
Xander remembers the hunted-look he saw on the guy’s face earlier, the punished figure standing awkwardly in just a green towel, and thinks Andrew is either the greatest actor he’s ever seen, or just far too used to punishment.
*****
tbc
By the time Andrew is dressed, Xander has more or less pulled himself together. The sight of his original outfit, lying in a crumpled heap on the bed while Andrew changes in the bathroom, probably helps. If Xander pictures him in Bad Guy black, it’s easier to imagine him killing Jonathon and starting this whole new apocalypse, and then he can concentrate on his prison warden role instead of wanting to open the metaphorical cage and set the little rodent free.
He tries to hold on to that thought when Andrew re-emerges, still looking painfully skinny in baggy T-shirt and faded grey sweats. He pads across the floor to retrieve his clothes and shoes, bundling them up in his arms. Xander tries not to look at the bruised wrists; tries to remind himself that Andrew must be watched like a hawk or who knows what he’ll try. Doesn’t bother to speak as he collects detergent and fabric softener from the kitchen, because he can’t say for sure that his voice will hold.
They walk out the door side by side, and Xander places a palm on Andrew’s back. He feels the guy flinch at the contact, frozen for a moment like the deer that’s just spotted the hunter, and then Andrew shifts and relaxes a little. When he’s certain Andrew isn’t going to try anything, his fingers curl and grasp a handful of lurid yellow T-shirt.
“You’re not going anywhere.” It isn’t a threat, just a reminder. He pulls slightly, and Andrew stumbles half a step back, until Xander releases him and leaves his palm to rest between Andrew’s shoulder blades. “I just don’t need my neighbours to know I have a hostage.” His voice is low and even: if he tries to put any kind of emotion in it, he’s certain he won’t be able to finish speaking.
They carry on in silence. Xander holds back a gasp of surprise when they reach the top of the stairs and come face to face with Mrs Miller from the next floor up. She quirks an eyebrow at him, glancing between him and his captive, then simply mutters a confused “hello” before carrying on towards the next flight. She can’t know, Xander tells himself, there’s no way she can know. Beside him, Andrew has started to blush, and with a lurch to his stomach Xander realises how degrading this must be for him. It’s one thing to be a hostage in private, but now he’s being frogmarched through a public building. He increases his pace, pushing Andrew onwards, getting them to the laundry room as quickly as possible.
There’s no describing his relief upon finding that it’s empty. He closes the door behind them with a pointed glance at Andrew, letting him know again that he can’t run away, then takes Andrew’s balled-up clothes and stuffs them into one of the machines. They have automatic washing machines here, which are quiet and efficient, but leave Xander just a little nostalgic for some kind of interaction with the whole washing-drying process. There’s nothing to do in the laundry room but sit and watch the clothes go round and round. He’s even timed the basic wash/dry cycle of the combination machines out of sheer boredom, and has counted the number of times the drum spins in five minutes when it switches over to tumble-dry. The thought of spending one hour and twenty-three minutes in here with Andrew looms up like really dull tidal wave, and he decides they aren’t going to wait around for Andrew’s clothes.
Once the machine is programmed, he looks back over at Andrew and announces that they’re going back upstairs.
“It smells funny in here,” Andrew comments as he heads over to the door. It’s the first thing he’s said since he came back out of the bathroom, and it surprises Xander, so it takes him a moment to reply.
“That’s the smell of clean,” he points out. “Have you forgotten that already?” Andrew’s face creases into worried confusion. Xander just shakes his head and carries on out the door. When Andrew falls into step beside him, he realises that Andrew smells clinically fresh, with just a faint hint of Xander’s shower gel lingering on his skin.
Andrew loiters in the kitchen when they get back inside the apartment, evidently unsure what he’s supposed to be doing. Xander heads straight for the TV, flicking through stations with the remote to find the best way to kill one hour and twenty-three minutes (or is it twenty-one minutes since they walked back upstairs?). On some chat-show, a woman built like a candied apple on a stick is yelling at her even rounder husband for doing the dirty with her brother, and Xander decides he isn’t going to find better entertainment at this time of day, so he sticks with that station, dropping on to the couch and kicking off his shoes.
“You can sit down, you know.” Andrew still stands by the door, his shoes in his hands, looking completely lost. He dithers a moment more, then steps cautiously across the floor to perch himself on the couch. Like a wild rabbit, Xander decides. The ones that look up from what they’re doing every few seconds to check for danger. The ones that are always ready to run away. He wonders again how this guy ever passed for evil.
Five minutes later and Andrew’s yelling at the apple-woman for being a complete idiot.
“Why the heck did you marry him in the first place? He’s the gayest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Xander stopped watching the show as soon as Andrew started talking back to it. He’s finding the shouting in his living room far more entertaining. Andrew has said more in the past minute than he’s said since they left Buffy’s house.
When they were kids, Willow gave Xander a kaleidoscope for his birthday. He’d hold it up to the light and keep turning it, so the colours kept changing and cycling. Watching Andrew is like watching a human kaleidoscope. It takes just the slightest distraction to turn him and make him change. It’s probably just a short attention span, Xander decides, but it’s like meeting an entirely different Andrew.
Xander remembers the hunted-look he saw on the guy’s face earlier, the punished figure standing awkwardly in just a green towel, and thinks Andrew is either the greatest actor he’s ever seen, or just far too used to punishment.
*****
tbc
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 03:47 pm (UTC)Marry me. No, seriously, I'm in love with your fic. You've got them both absolutely spot on, there's oodles of angst, and it's all slowly slowly catchy monkey. I couldn't be happier. You rock. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 03:54 pm (UTC)I'm glad people are enjoying this fic. I'm enjoying writing it, and I haven't said that about a fic in a long time. Maybe I've found a pairing to fill the gaping hole in my heart left by Tommy/Merton.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 04:02 pm (UTC)That's good :) I always worry about my feedback, as it tends to be "omg!!1!!! u rok!!!!! i <3 u so muchh!!!!!1!!" and that's really not me. I just tend to get incoherent when faced with good fic. It's a compliment really. Unfortunately, feedback of this type tends to lead to an "uhuh .. *backs away slowly*" reaction from those who receive it ;)
I'm enjoying writing it, and I haven't said that about a fic in a long time.
That's good :) There's nothing worse than writing a pairing you've lost interest in, or aren't bothered about in the first place. And nothing better than really getting lost in a pairing.
Maybe I've found a pairing to fill the gaping hole in my heart left by Tommy/Merton.
Aw. What happened to them?
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 04:06 pm (UTC)Aw. What happened to them?
I think we just ran out of stories. I'd been writing Big Wolf fics for two years, and there's only three seasons of stuff to go on, so sooner or later the plot bunnies just had to start dying off. I was feeling all lost and abandoned without a pairing to write too, so I'm insanely happy that this one came along. It's just so sad that it'll end soon. I can't bear the thought of not having canon confirmation of this 'ship.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 04:14 pm (UTC)I hate when that happens. I think I kinda hit that place with Stargate SG-1 fic. Just .. ran out of stories.
I can't bear the thought of not having canon confirmation of this 'ship.
I'm just hoping that they don't non-confirm it. I'd die for a reference in next seasons Angel - just a line or two..
Angel: So, uh .. how's everyone?
Whoever's visiting: Buffy's good, and Dawn's okay, and oh, Xander's living in San Fransisco with Andrew ..
Angel: Who?
..but I'm not really expecting one. Although you never know *g*
Did you see the picture from Chosen? I'm taking that as subtext confirmation, if not more *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 04:44 pm (UTC)I'd die for a reference in next seasons Angel - just a line or two..
Of course it makes perfect sense for them to drive the bus to LA, because where else can they go? The Buffyverse consists of three places: Sunnydale, LA and England. So they have to go to LA and stay at with the A-Team until they get sorted out.
Did you see the picture from Chosen? I'm taking that as subtext confirmation, if not more *g*
Is that the one by the bus with the bloodied T-shirts? You know what I love most about that pic? Andrew's motorcycle T-shirt. That, and it looks like a prequel to a hug. If the spoilers I've read are accurate, character survival-wise, then of course Xander and Andrew are going to share a powerful bond at the end of this, which deserves much fic exploration and swooning over.
Oh, it's just so sad that this is coming to an end. But they've been so open about Andrew's infatuation with Xander that they simply cannot leave it unfinished!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 04:54 pm (UTC)Mine's done that twice today. Computers are evil.
So they have to go to LA and stay at with the A-Team until they get sorted out.
Definitely. I'd be surprised if there weren't some kind of reference to them having been there and left at the beginning of series 5 of Angel. Especially given the whole Buffy/Angel vibe. It just *begs* for fic, covering all the different scenarios. And Angel being totally bemused by Andrew. Heh.
You know what I love most about that pic? Andrew's motorcycle T-shirt.
Heh, aw, bless him. I love the whole colour coordination thing they've got going on *g* I've got that picture as my desktop wallpaper at the moment, so I can stare at it all day long.
That, and it looks like a prequel to a hug.
It really does *sigh* I have high hopes for Chosen.
Xander and Andrew are going to share a powerful bond at the end of this, which deserves much fic exploration and swooning over
Mmm, definitely. I've already started one fic, but there are so many possibilities, and I want to explore them all. In a way, they've really given us a gift (if it turns out as it does in the spoilers) - that kind of thing is a fantastic spring board for fic writing.
they've been so open about Andrew's infatuation with Xander that they simply cannot leave it unfinished!
I hope there's something, I really do. It'd just .. I'd scream so loudly, I'd deafen my flatmates *g* I think they'll give us something. Just enough that we *know*, without being too overt about it. They're just sneaky that way.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 04:57 pm (UTC)Ooh! I just remembered something! There was an ep of Angel, I forget the title, where some guy in a comic book shop tells Angel that people talk about him in the "chatty rooms". Now, you just know that includes Andrew, Warren and Jonathan, right? So maybe Andrew already has his own fantasies about Angel...
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:09 pm (UTC)I can think of quite a lot of people who'd pay to see it *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:17 pm (UTC)And I really have to stop this, because I just can't cope with anymore rampaging plot bunnies. For pity's sake, make them stop!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:25 pm (UTC)I'm such an angst-ho - I immediately took that to a "memories of Anya" angst and trauma and mutual reassurance place, with "*sniff* .. I remember the last time I drank whiskey .. was with.. *sniff* Anya ... *whimper* ... it's not fair .. *wail, moan, sob, guiltguiltguilt*"
Mind you, my Andrew is in an odd place today, so I'm probably not reliable. But .. mm, so much potential. *looks to see how many days until her exam is over and she's free to write fic all day long*
For pity's sake, make them stop!
*laughs* Make them *stop*?? *feeds the bunnys some more carrots, then runs away*
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:32 pm (UTC)Nooooo! You know these bunnies are going to distract me from 'Dirt and Dust...', don't you?
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:37 pm (UTC)*big eyes*
Okay, we *can't* have that. *starts trying to round up the bunnys and put them into the bunny hutch*
no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-11 05:47 pm (UTC)I did that with MSCL - there was a particular speech, where Xander lists the things he loves about Andrew, that I had bits and pieces of floating through my mind for about three weeks before I even started writing the fic. In the end, I just had to sit down and write it to get them out of my head *g*
It's kind of a pain, really.
Makes for very good fic though.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-12 04:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-14 07:52 am (UTC)I just finished reading that yesterday. I'm still picking up all the bits after I melted. It was wonderful! Probably the most in-depth Xandrew I've seen, and so lovely!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-14 08:09 am (UTC)Heh :) Aw, thank you :)
Probably the most in-depth Xandrew I've seen
I started writing it a good few months ago, so I've had a lot more time to work on it than most. I'm working on an epilogue .. well, I would be working on an epilogue, if my s1-5 DVDs hadn't just arrived ... But I will write an epilogue, and then I'll post it all off to the lists.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 05:16 am (UTC)I'm reading this again (bookmarked it cause I *loved* it first time around) and those last two paragraphs just break my heart. I can just imagine the life Andrew has had to make him too used to punishment. Very poignant.