Work Text:
Title: After Hours
Author: Meagan
Summary: Angel and Xander have a little chat. Not related to anything else I've ever written.
Distribution: Please ask. If nothing else, it will eventually be on my page -- http://www.geocities.com/meaganola
[Note: this is *not* a new page. Just a new form of the url. The old one with the numbers and stuff still works.]
Spoiler: _Angel_ and rumors/spoilers about what Xander's doing this summer (they conflict with other rumors, but those apparently-more-official rumors wouldn't work for this thing).
Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. If they were mine, things would be different. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB (even though they *really* don't deserve these guys after what they did to us in May), and anyone else I forgot. Feedback: I save it and read it whenever I need a happy.
Notes: Lame title, I know, but I can't think of anything better. And, hey, look! I'm writing X/A that is not part of the Reversal series! Color me shocked. I don't think that Angel would be in this particular position (already teamed up with Doyle, that is) at this moment in time, but I needed it for the story. And what in the world inspired this? Well, have you seen the video for Madonna's "Open Your Heart" or the first episode of _Millennium_? A friend told me about one of his friends (housemate? bandmate? I can't remember now) whose job was to pick up and clean the quarters from the floors of the peep booths at the Lusty Lady (a female-owned-and-operated strip club, quite possibly the club in _Millennium_). After performers ended their shifts, he would be the one they hunted down to escort them to their car (despite its location directly across the street from the Seattle Art Museum, it's not exactly in a good part of town). Also, I really like Carl Hiaasen (as I've mentioned on another list), and he has a really fun bodyguard named Shad in _Strip Tease_ (read the book, don't watch the movie). Dedicated to my college buddy Aaron who made me love the name Rupert ten years ago (it's a boring story that involves a bottle of peach schnapps and _Dirty Rotten Scoundrels_) and who informed me one day, "I have to go to a strip club with a friend, but I'm not going to look at any of the dancers." I miss that guy.
AFTER HOURS
By Meagan
This was his favorite part of the job. Just three months ago, it would have never occurred to him that he would be working in a strip club, washing dishes, and *enjoying* it. It wasn't the work that made him happy, of course. It was what happened at the ends of the dancers' shifts.
Most hormonal young men would think of this sort of establishment as a carte blanche to leer and grope at the female employees. After all, the theory went, that's why the women were there: to be looked at. The reality was that the dancers were there because they made good money quickly and legally. Many of the other male employees, however, were there to look and try to figure out how to grope. That last part never happened, thanks to a very overprotective bouncer that, conveniently, also took Xander under his wing. But looking wasn't why the teen stayed there. It was the hug at the end of each night.
That should be explained a bit more clearly. It wasn't the hug itelf. It was the circumstances that led up to the hug. After their shifts, the women would shower, dress, and wait for him to walk them out to their cars. *That* was the best part. The walk from the club door to their car door, and then the careful examination of the interior of their car before they unlocked the door, gave him that hug, and climbed in. During the walk, they would tell him things. Janine would complain about her archaeology classes, Grace would tell him about how her daughter just did something incredibly cute (and it was videotaped; would he like to see the tape? She could bring it to the club tomorrow), Georgia would talk about the latest chapter in the saga that was her girlfriend's ordeal running her own internet service provider.
And he would nod and file away the information, ready to ask questions the next time the topic came up. So, Janine, ever go on any digs? Please, Grace, definitely bring in that tape. Ever think about opening your own business, Georgia?
And the women's smiles -- delight that he *remembered* the things they told him and used the information simply to get them to talk to him some more, not just to get them naked and in bed -- told him that his presence was more than welcome there. More like *needed*. He had never been needed before. At least not in a non-potentially-fatal way. He liked the feeling.
When he began his job as dishwasher, the bouncer -- Ed -- had been the one on after-shift escort duty. But one night, just a couple of weeks after Xander took the job, Ed was sick. Xander and the bartender ended up working as a team to walk the women to their cars, the two males taking the place of one very large Ed. That is until they were attacked while accompanying Signe, yet another dancer, to her car. The bartender ended up running back to the safety of the bar to get a weapon after the attacker grabbed Signe. Xander, however, managed to manipulate the attacker under a streetlight -- and realized that Signe was in the arms of a vampire. Calling upon his years of experience (okay, so it was only two and a half years, but it was still much more than most people had), he got her out of the way and quickly staked the creature. Prior to that night, he had always thought that the presence of broken wooden pallets in the alley behind the club was a safety hazard. That night, he thanked whatever forces had left them there. To show her appreciation, Signe had him over for dinner and introduced him to her husband Eric and their two children, darling kids that made him think that he might someday want to be a father himself.
And that was what turned an otherwise horribly boring and demeaning job into an experience he would cherish for the rest of his life because of the friends he had made. After word of Signe's experience and his heroism made way through the dancers, he found himself being pulled out of the dishroom for escort duty every night, something the management actually encouraged. It seemed that word of his exploits got around to people in the area around the club as well, and so his reputation -- and the threat it carried -- became just as important to his actual presence. And, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he had *no* interest in these women as anything more than friends. That embarrassed him a bit, but then he saw that Ed was the same way. This reassured him. Maybe he was just maturing.
Then one otherwise boring Tuesday night, it happened. It was a night just like every other at the club -- women gyrating to heavy beats, throwing garments onto the faces of horny men who had nothing better to do than stuff money in the dancers' g-strings. The first to request an escort was Grace. "So, Xander, are you ready for tomorrow? I hear they're holy terrors."
He laughed, scanning the back seat of her car with his flashlight, verifying that it was empty. "If I can get out of my hometown alive, I can handle Signe's kids for a few hours. Besides, she and Eric really deserve some time alone for a change, and it's not like I have any plans that don't involve a book or a remote control."
"Well, at least *you* sound sure of yourself." She hugged him and unlocked the car door, smiling at him as he opened the door for her. "If you do survive, do you think you could watch Chloe for me some time next week?"
He began to answer, but an Irish-accented voice behind him interrupted. "Could I have a word with you?"
Sighing, Xander shook his head. Not this *again*. "The lady isn't interested."
"Too bad. She's not who I want to talk to, though." With those words, Angel glided out of the shadows. Just like a cat, Xander thought.
"Wow." Grace's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked down to see her staring at Angel. "Friend of yours?"
He shrugged. "Sort of."
"Good job." After taking one last glace, she pulled out of her parking space and drove away.
Xander turned back to glare at Angel. "What the hell do you want? You must be aware that I have no desire to talk to you."
"But I need to talk to you." Xander rolled his eyes and attempted to stalk back into the club, but Angel's hand shot out and caught the mortal's arm. "Please?"
Funny how that action made him feel in control of the situation. He could refuse and go back in the club, warning everyone there to watch out for a tall, well-built man with dark hair and brown eyes dressed in black. Or he could hear what Angel had to say. If nothing else, he could make the vampire feel even worse for what he had done to their friends. And he could keep further control by making the discussion happen on his turf. "Okay."
~~~
Angel waited for the end of Xander's shift patiently in the back of the club's main room. Doyle attempted to cheer him up. "Hey, what's the worst that could happen? He could stake your gloomy ass?"
The vampire winced. "Actually, yeah, that's a very distinct possibility. Remember what I told you about the return of Angelus?" Doyle nodded. "He's the guy from Valentine's Day. And the one I punched during the fake return."
"Oh." Doyle took a moment to carefully tuck a bill into a dancer's garter. Angel very deliberately avoided looking at the money. He didn't want to know how much he was giving Doyle to help him on this particular mission. "Well, on the up side, you wouldn't have to worry about dealing with me anymore if that happened."
"True."
The evening wore on, Doyle making positive impressions on the dancers as a big tipper, Angel just wondering when the ordeal would end. Finally, the crowd trickled out, and the employees followed suit. A large form loomed over them. "You waiting for Xander?" Angel nodded. "Follow me." The two followed the bouncer backstage. "Hey, Xander, I can take care of Sophie." The redhead in question nodded, grinning at her self-appointed bodyguard on her way out the door. Xander watched the two leave, smiling to himself. One of the confidences Sophie had shared with him was her crush on Ed. Maybe tonight would be her lucky night. As far as she was concerned, *any* night could be Ed's lucky night.
"So. Is this your caretaker?" Xander gestured to Doyle.
Angel shook his head and turned to his sidekick. "Why don't you go make sure a barstool somewhere doesn't walk off?" The response was an outstretched hand. Angel rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. "This is the most expensive evening I've ever had to pay for."
At that statement, Xander made a sound that could have been interpreted as a laugh, a snort, or a cough. "So we're unsupervised from here?" Angel nodded. "Let's go to this coffeehouse down the street." If he had to be alone -- no friends nearby -- with this vampire, it would have to be a public place, and he was a very steady customer of the coffeehouse. Between his own espresso consumption and that of the employees at the club, the coffeehouse would likely shut down if the club did. So the baristas knew him by name and drink and did what they could to keep him happy.
Because the hour was not conducive to heavy caffeine consumption as far as Xander was concerned, he opted for peppermint tea. Angel chose the same, much to Xander's surprise. "So. What do you want?"
Angel sighed, studying his knuckles. "I'm not really sure. I just know I needed to talk to you."
"About Buffy?"
At her name, Angel's head jerked up. "No. That's one thing I'm sure about. This isn't about her."
"Then what?" Angel's eyes narrowed for a moment before dropping to his knuckles once again. "No. You can't ignore this. You're the one who came to my job and dragged me down here. I could be on my way home to a nice, long shower and then blissful sleep. But I'm not. I'm here, watching you angst your way through yet another fine evening. And you know what? I don't really care why you're depressed. As far as I'm concerned, you deserve it. I don't know why I'm even here." He stood to leave.
Angel's hand on his arm stopped him. "Please stay?"
"Why, Angel? Why should I stay? And why are you here? Did you hunt me down to warn me away from Buffy?"
The hand pulled away. "We got word that some bad ass in this area was killing off the local vamps. We were concerned that it was some random citizen who didn't know what they were getting into. But now that I know it's you, I feel better."
Xander stared, stunned. Angel didn't insult him. Somehow, it registered that Angel had *praised* him. He sat back down. Slowly, he realized Angel had asked him a question. Unfortunately, he had no idea what that question was. "Um..."
"Because I would feel a lot better if I knew that you were there backing them."
Ah. Asking if he was going to be returning to Sunnydale. Maybe his presence there wasn't as welcome as he had thought. "Yeah, I'm headed back in a few weeks. It's been great here, but I miss everyone at home. Anya came to see me just before she left town before the Ascension. Did you know that?" Angel shook his head. "She begged me to leave town with her. But I couldn't. I had to stay and at least attempt to fight. I *belong* there." Xander sighed and slouched back in his seat. "Why am I telling you this? You don't care."
Angel quickly but gently grabbed his wrist. "I do care. Xander, you could have so easily been me. You could have decided, 'Hey, what the hell, no one here cares about me anyway, so I might as well follow the next pretty girl who smiles my way.' But you didn't. And even if you tried, you do have friends who will hunt your sorry ass down and pull you back to them." He relinquished the wrist. "That's more than I have."
"Wow." He lightly dragged his fingers around his wrist where Angel had held it.
Angel misunderstood the movement. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"No, you didn't --" Xander's words were cut off when Angel once again gently grasped his wrist, this time carefully massaging first the wrist itself, then moving up his forearm. "Angel, I --"
"Hey, you two, I have to close up now." The barista interrupted him, making Angel wonder what the rest of the sentence was going to be.
~~~
The night was finally over. Angel walked Xander to the door of his apartment -- just a few blocks from the club -- and waited until the teen had unlocked the door. He was fully aware that, although Xander was comfortable enough to literally lead Angel to his doorstep, there would be no invitation into the small living quarters, so he quickly said goodbye and turned to leave. Jokingly, Xander called after him, "What, no kiss goodnight?"
At those words, Angel froze. He squeezed his eyes shut, carefully counting to ten before turning around and returning to stand in front of Xander. Gazing at Xander's face, he realized that the teen was smirking. *Smirking*. There was only one thing Angel could think of to erase that smirk. Quickly, he moved his hands to the back of Xander's head and pulled him in for what was intended to be a brief, bruising, punishing kiss, meant to remind Xander just who had the power, no matter how well the two of them got along now. Instead, the instant their lips touched, the control shifted to Xander. It clearly surprised Xander as much as Angel, but they both went along with it. Angel's hands moved to weave through Xander's hair, and Xander's hands moved to Angel's waist, hooking fingers through belt loops and pulling his now-former enemy tight against his body. It was a heady blend of lips, teeth, and tongues, and Angel would have been perfectly content to lick, suck, and oh-so-gently nibble -- not to mention grind pelvises -- until the sun rose and he disintegrated into dust. But fortunately for Angel, Xander pulled away to catch his breath.
"Oh, wow." It took them both a moment to realize that the words were Angel's.
And then, as Angel licked his lips, the vampire realized that Xander was still smirking. But the human's next words made Angel wonder if that really mattered. "You know, I could be convinced to put out on the second date."
~~~ the end ~~~