Xander's Green-Eyed Obsession
Bags, Boxes, and a Bagel
The sound of movement woke Xander from his slumber. Crispy clean ironed sheets, soft pillows and a solidly real mattress registered in his thoughts before he even blinked open his eyes. This is not my basement. Looking up at the mystery figure, he smiled as Harry ventured about, collecting the few items that he had left out the night before. "Gorgeous."
Harry turned toward the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you." Harry drew Xander into a firm yet chaste kiss.
Xander moaned as Harry released him from the nearly soul searing kiss. "Do you have to leave?" Xander breathed.
A resigned smile slid across Harry's face at the sleepy expression lingering on Xander's features. "Unfortunately. But, that's no reason for you to be rousing."
"Hmm?" Tiny bits of awareness crept into Xander's eyes as he focused on his green-eyed obsession.
"I'll leave the Do-Not-Disturb on the door, settle the bill. You don't have to vacate until one, get some more sleep." Harry chuckled at the dazed look that covered Xander's face. Harry bent forward and planted a tender kiss to Xander's right temple. "Sleep."
Harry smiled as he watched Xander burrow into the pillows, settling back into the warm bed. Xander sniffed. "Don't want you to leave." He whispered before drifting off into soft snores.
A crescendo of beeps crept into Xander's sleep fogged mind. Bright red digits glared out from a standard hotel room alarm clock. 11:15, it declared. The beeps continued to announce a wakeup Xander felt was not requested. Stretching out from the comforting embrace of the covers, he hammered away at the clock, hoping for the magic quiet button to trigger. Blissful silence reigned as the snooze button was depressed.
Sighing happily, Xander curled himself back beneath the sheets. Tugging the pillow under his head, he drifted back into a dream state.
Five minutes later. . .
Xander groaned as the beeping started again. Growling, he turned his attention to the alarm clock, determined to silence its tones.
"Happy now?" He frowned at the electronic device as he successfully deactivated the alarm. Yawning, Xander flopped back onto the mattress. He sighed happily as he flexed every muscle and stretched every limb from his prone position.
Groaning, disgusted at himself, Xander forced himself upright. Closing his eyes, he took slow deep breaths, enjoying the lack of human humdrum activity that regularly interrupted his lie-ins. Sufficiently relaxed, Xander opened his eyes again. Light drifted through the standard gauzy curtains, illuminating most of the suite. Laughing lightly, Xander spied his clothes neatly folded atop the chest of drawers to the side of the bed. Massively OCD, Harry be.
Unfolding himself from the bed, Xander reluctantly dragged on his clothing, relishing the freshly laundered scent. When did he do that? Shaking off the mini-wiggins, Xander ventured off to visit the bathroom.
Face freshly washed, Xander woke that crucial bit more. A sappy post-coital expression refused to release his face as he peered into the mirror before him. Tiny bruises lit across Xander's collarbone, highlighting the most fantastic moments that had occurred during the night. "I know no Faith." Grinning, Xander left the tiled room.
Finally awake, Xander noticed two cardboard boxes lay upon the island countertop of the kitchenette. One was recognizably garment box shaped. The other was noticeably smaller. A heavy parchment envelope with a nicely calligraphic Xander printed on the front was propped up against them. A niggling of suspicion scraped against Xander's avid curiosity before being shoved back into the nether regions of thought.
Unwilling to give in to his temptation quite yet, Xander journeyed into the kitchen, hoping to find something edible. Maybe the Cottage Pie is still good. Cracking open the fridge, Xander froze. Saran-wrapped to a small paper plate was a plain bagel. Atop the wrapping sat two packets of honey and a note card written in Harry's neat script reading 'Peanut butter beside the toaster.'
Grinning, Xander made expedient work of removing the bagel from its trappings and popping it into the toaster. Reopening the fridge, Xander evaluated the contents. A reusable container held nearly half the original pan of Cottage Pie. Next to that sat half a block of cheddar cheese. Nestled on the lower shelf was a plastic container of ripe Bing cherries, another holding raspberries, and three perfect nectarines.
The toaster popped, interrupting Xander's perusal. A heavy smearing of peanut butter followed by a layer of honey and the sweet-n-salty goodness stood fit for consumption. Grabbing the envelope and the bagel-laden plate, Xander moved to the table for sticky mouthed fun. Taking great care to not cover the envelope in stickiness, Xander carefully extracted the letter contained within. More thick parchment and Harry-handwriting revealed itself. Smiling at the sweet sentiment, Xander read as he ate.
Xander,
It has been nine unbelievable weeks since we first met. It still feels like I'm dreaming. And with this surreal feeling, and the fantastic night we just had, it is difficult to express just what I wish to say.
I wish to never wake up. (Yes, I know you were thinking this was a dear john letter. Don't ever think I'll be predictable, Xander Harris!) I enjoy spending my time with you. You never cease to make me feel alive. I also know that you are afraid of what your friends will make of us. One thing that I know from experience: they aren't real friends if they cannot accept any changes you throw their way.
Now that I've finished being melodramatic, time for presents. My New York trip didn't take as much time as my boss thought it should, so I spent some time at the shops. Picked up a jacket, some shirts, a couple pair of jeans. For some reason they were all in your size. I hope you like the colours.
Also, last time I was around, I forgot to give you
something. Strictly speaking, it isn't on the
market quite yet. But I do have some connections
and I want to talk to you when I'm not stateside.
My number is already programmed into the
mobile cellular phone. And the cellular has a
Sunnydale number for your friends to call.
(Don't fuss over the bill.)
Hmm. If you haven't already found it, there is
food in the icebox refrigerator. Paper bags are
beside the sink. Think of me as you sink your
teeth into the fresh, ripe, juicy fruits.
Shite! I've wound myself up.
I hope to be back in the area sometime in November but I cannot be firm on a date. Mid-month? I'll call.
Fondest regards,
Harry
Xander blinked, trying to ignore the watery edges to his vision. Please, God, let him not be a demon! I don't want this to end! Tucking the letter back into its matching envelope, Xander gathered the remains of his breakfast, moving to the presents Harry had mentioned. Eagerly, Xander ripped off the cover of the garment box ignoring the designer logo pressed into the lid. A fall to the floor nearly followed. There, seated inside, was a medium wash Ralph Lauren jean jacket with a matching and twin dark wash pair of carpenter jeans. Three silk dress shirts were nestled in as well. One in dark purple, one black, and one in a chocolate brown.
"Gulp." The extravagance froze Xander. He can be a demon. As long as he isn't my fairy godfather.
A knocking came from the door. "Housekeeping!" Startled, Xander spied the clock over the stove. 1:05. Shit!
Another knock sent him scrambling to the door. Yanking it open, Xander gasped out, "Sorry. I lost track of time. Five minutes and I'll be gone. A baggage cart?"
The startled housekeeper directed Xander to the bank of elevators before promising him ten minutes of peace.
Swiping the room key, Xander tore down the corridor to nab a cart before returning. The lack of time forced him to empty the fridge of its precious contents without looking, the peanut butter jar joining in along with the smaller box from the counter.
The garment box and two full paper bags on a baggage cart. Xander laughed at himself as he navigated the cart down to the lobby and out to his car.
For once Xander was grateful of his move to the basement. A back entrance meant no one asking questions as he unloaded his parcels from the car. The garment box stood out starkly against the aged blankets that made up the covers of his hide-a-bed. The foodstuffs filled his mini-fridge and an entire shelf of his milk crate cabinet. The box with the cellphone faintly screamed to be opened.
"Xander!" Cue the human humdrum.
Xander sighed. "Yes, mom?"
"Willow's been calling all morning. I'm not a messenger service, young man!"
Damn. "I'll tell her." Xander pouted at the interruption to his perfect little Sunday. Better see what's happening.
Tuesday, 2pm-ish
"Xander, go find Buffy." Like the slayer isn't more than capable of kicking Spike's ass. Almost wish I hadn't found that TV.
Knocking rapidly, Xander hoped that Buffy was there. She moved way too fast when she was being avoid-y, or slay-y.
"Xander, I was looking for you. You weren't in your musty basement." Anya. As if the day hadn't already been ruined enough.
"Have you seen Buffy?" Xander hoped the ex-demon could be of some use.
That how-can-you-possibly-be-interested-in-someone-else sneer lit across Anya's face. "No." A huff. "About what happened. I'm over you."
Sighing, Xander grimace-smiled. "That's great, Anya. I don't have time."
Rapidly moving past the stalker-ish being, Xander proceeded to get his ribs bashed by Spike in a moot attempt to assist Buffy in her fight. Definitely need to convince Harry to stick around. Sword sounds like a good idea to have at hand.
Yay! Finally finished this Buffy episode. Halloween next time.
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