Fic: The Sticking Place

[allyndra]

My first anniversary writing fanfic was on February 19. I wanted to write something to celebrate, so I posted on the forum at The Croff to ask for suggestions. sublimatedangel(who keeps me from talking to myself over there) wanted to see something with an insecure!Xander, trying to work up his nerve to do something new. This is what came out. As if inspiring it wasn't enough, sublimatedangelalso beta'd it for me. Read and enjoy, and Happy Anniversary to me!

Title: The Sticking Place

Author: Allyndra

Rating: PG-13 for language and slashy sexual suggestion

Disclaimer: You know they’re not mine. I know they’re not mine. Everyone knows they’re not mine.

Summary: Xander has always had trouble screwing up his courage to do what he wants.

 

Freshman

 

It was a Wednesday. The days of the week often ran together into a blurry amalgam of lockers and classrooms, but Xander was knew it was Wednesday because the cafeteria was making that weird thing with the hotdogs and mashed potatoes that was their signature dish for the middle of the week. Xander turned around, already snickering, to make his usual, extremely juvenile joke about the inspiration behind the meal, only to find that Jesse wasn't snickering behind him. In fact, Jesse was nowhere in sight.

 

It took most of lunch period to track him down, but Xander finally found him behind the gym, sitting slumped against the wall. Folded up on the ground like that, Jesse looked like he was made up entirely of knees and elbows. He didn't even glance up when Xander dropped down beside him.

 

"So, what? You did your laundry last night, and suddenly you're too good to eat with me?" Xander joked, nudging Jesse with his shoulder. The jagged sigh he got in reply cut right through him. It made Xander want to wrap his arms around Jesse and tell him everything would be all right or whip out the water balloons and suggest a prank war to distract him from whatever was wrong.

 

Jesse lifted his head, and Xander took in the red eyes and splotchy skin with something like shock. The two of them had made a pact when they were twelve to never, ever cry again, and so far, they'd both kept it. In all observable ways, at least. Anything that happened at night was between a man and his pillow, Xander always said. But this was in the middle of the day, where people might see, and Jesse was crying. The hug-or-distract feeling grew, and it was joined by the intense urge to do horrible, violent things to whatever had hurt Jesse so badly.

 

"Are you okay, man?" Xander asked tentatively.

 

Jesse ran a hand over his face. "I'm fine," he said. He made a failed attempt at his usual smirk, and Xander's chest tightened.

 

Xander tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in what Willow called his sarcastic pose and everyone else called 'Xander being Xander.' "Yeah. I'm not buying that on discount. What's up?" he pressed.

 

"It's stupid," Jesse said apologetically. "I just played another round of Get Shot Down by Cordelia, and it sucked more than usual." Jesse stared at the dirt, not meeting Xander's eyes.

 

Xander felt the words piling up in his throat, forcing their way forward to his mouth. Words like 'not good enough for you,' and 'no, I really mean that.' Words like 'funny' and 'amazing' and 'hot.' Words he should never say, like 'I wouldn't do that to you.' Xander was very good at keeping those words inside; he had plenty of practice. Xander had never been stupid enough to say them before; he knew that no matter how Xander felt, Jesse didn’t think about him as anything other than a friend. Today, despite his caution, he could practically taste the words on his tongue, between his teeth.

 

Before they could spill past his lips, Jesse clambered to his feet. He dusted himself off, brushing away his lost, wounded expression along with the dirt. He took a deep breath and looked down at Xander, sitting in his shadow.

 

"It's no big," Jesse insisted. His eyes were still dark, and his nose was red, but the smile on his lips was almost convincing. "I just have to show her what she's missing, right? Hey, thanks for looking out for me," he said, offering Xander a hand.

 

Xander swallowed all the words he couldn't say, shoving them back to the hollow place where they usually lived. He smiled back. His fingers closed over Jesse's, and he let himself be pulled up. "Anytime," he promised.

 

***

 

Sophomore

 

The lockers at Sunnydale High weren't especially nice. They were a gray color that seemed selected to inspire lethargy and drudgery and other words that might show up on the SATs as synonyms for boredom. They were made of smooth, cold metal, except for the little vents needed to keep textbooks alive. On the whole, they were ugly and uninteresting, and Xander was getting really sick of knowing them this well.

 

He snorted, his breath making a delta of condensation on the gray surface pressed beneath his cheek. "Dammit, Larry!" Xander said, his voice somewhere between a shout and a whine. It echoed in the empty hallway. He tried to push back, but hard hands held him in place.

 

"What'sa matter, Harris? Got somewhere more important to be?" Larry asked tauntingly. And the irritating thing was, he didn't. There was no danger looming right now that needed Xander's special skills of humor and heavy lifting, Buffy and Willow were busy doing some intensive studying that he couldn't contribute to, and his parents wouldn't even notice if he didn't come home tonight.

 

Xander sighed as deeply as he could with his lungs compressed by 200 pounds of obnoxious quarterback. "What do you want, Larry?" he asked with exaggerated patience. "If you really want my lunch money, you can have it, but I hear it's a slippery slope from mugging your classmates to robbing banks. I don't want to be held responsible when you're doing hard time with a guy named Bubba."

 

Larry's hands twisted the fabric of Xander's shirt tighter. "You think you're so funny, don't you?" If he wasn't busy kissing locker, Xander would have nodded mockingly in answer. "Well, I don't. Did you think I wouldn't notice you laughing at me in Algebra?"

 

Actually, yes. That's exactly what Xander thought. The entire class had been laughing at Larry when he'd not only nodded off in the middle of the test, but started talking in his sleep. In the face of that much mockery, Xander had felt completely beneath anyone's notice.

 

"I've seen you," Larry said. His voice was low, but his mouth was so close to Xander's ears that he could feel it. "I've seen you watching me, laughing at me. You think you're better than me."

 

Larry's grip relaxed just a bit as he got caught up in whatever emotion cruelly mocked bullies feel, and right then Xander knew he could get away. If he slid his foot a few inches to the left, he'd have the leverage to kick Larry hard in the knee. He could see it all playing out right in front of him, against a movie screen of dingy, gray locker. Larry would go down, clutching at Xander's shoulders, and Xander would half-turn and bash him in the face with his elbow. He would finish the turn and follow through with a punch to Larry's gut. He could not only get away, he could make Larry pay.

 

The thought should have sent a wave of excitement through him, but instead, Xander felt terrified. He kept his position, not because of the body behind him, but because he was frozen by the images in his head. If he beat Larry up, he wouldn't be Xander the geek anymore. He'd be a threat. Next time Larry came after him, he'd bring friends. And no matter how many vampires he'd staked or how many demon slayings he'd assisted, Xander knew he couldn't take on the football team.

 

He didn't slide his foot over. He just breathed against the locker, feeling it warming from prolonged contact with his face. He waited while Larry regained control of himself, and then he asked, "Are we done here?"

 

With one last shove, Larry let go of him. "Don't let me catch you laughing at me again," Larry warned.

 

Xander rubbed the reddened skin of his cheek. "Check. Only laugh at Larry behind his back," he retorted. Larry glared at him, but just spun around and stomped away.

 

Once he was gone, Xander leaned back against the lockers and buried his face in his hands. He joked about running away and screaming like a very manly girl, but he'd never really considered himself a coward. Now his stomach was roiling with disgust at his own cowardice. He'd just let himself be humiliated and abused rather than face the consequences of winning a fight. A hinge dug into his back, and Xander let it. Maybe the lockers and he deserved each other.

 

***

 

Junior

 

Xander took a bite of his ice cream and squirmed uncomfortably. Willow was watching him with that hopeful look that made him want to vomit. He didn't know how he'd managed not to see it for so long, but now that he noticed ... he wished he could have stayed oblivious.

 

Xander looked at his friend's sweet face and felt a sickening mixture of guilt and betrayal. They'd been friends since kindergarten. Good friends. Best friends. And now every time he looked at her, he wondered how much of it was real. Did she really like him, or did she just *like* him? Would she want him around if she knew he couldn't feel the same way toward her? Would Buffy and Giles keep him if Willow didn't? He kept rereading the last ten years through the lens of Willow-likes-Xander, and he didn't like the new interpretation of the text. He couldn't tell if he'd been leading her on, or if she'd been manipulating him, but suddenly nothing seemed honest and innocent anymore.

 

Willow smiled happily at him over a heaping spoonful of double chocolate chip, and Xander had to close his eyes and breathe deep. "What's wrong, Xander? Freezer head getting you down?" Her voice was friendly and concerned, and he tried not to hear anything else in it.

 

Xander opened his eyes. "Hey, I'm the Xan-man. No mere dairy product is going to defeat me." She relaxed, and Xander hated himself.

 

He'd practiced how to tell her. In bed at night, on his way to school, in the middle of English when he was supposed to be pondering Beowulf. He'd thought up a hundred and one ways to tell Willow he was gay. There was the straightforward, "Hey, Will? I like guys," and the subtle, "Who do you think is hotter, Keanu Reeves or Matt Damon?" He'd considered leaving pamphlets and self help books about sexuality scattered around his room when she came over to study, or even just letting her catch him checking out Troy McDowell's ass when he was bent over at the water fountain. A hundred and one ways, but not a single one that wouldn’t hurt her.  

 

Xander put down his spoon and pushed his bowl away. He ran his finger along the tabletop, tracing abstract patterns in the drips of melted ice cream there. "Willow?" His voice was uncertain, and he told himself that was silly. He could do this. Willow loved him.

 

"Uh huh?" Willow trained her attention on him, bright and warm, and Xander felt himself wilting away from it. He couldn't do this. Willow *loved* him.

 

"I think I'm gonna flunk history," he said weakly.

 

"Xander!" The disapproval in her voice was sharp as she lectured him, and, perversely, it made Xander feel a little better.

 

He'd tell her tomorrow.

 

***

 

Senior

 

It wasn't cold, but Xander was shivering anyway. He couldn't keep still, pacing around the alley behind the Bronze, stuffing his hands into his pockets, pulling his hands back out of his pockets to run them through his hair. He was twitchy and full of anticipation. And hard as a rock.

 

He thought he'd probably first heard about it in whispers, but he couldn't be sure. It could have been from Cordelia last year when she and Devon were dating. Heaven knew she'd bitched about her boyfriend's failings often enough; she might have included a rant about stage door floozies. It was possible he'd picked it up in the locker room, where the guys would brag and lie and tell tales about other people's conquests when they ran out of their own. At some point, Xander had become aware of the fact that A) Devon was a sex god, and B) Devon had a habit of picking up the nearest warm body when he came off stage and screwing them senseless.

 

Once these facts had permeated his awareness, Xander had trouble getting them out of his head. He would picture it late at night, pulling his sheets up and his boxers down. Devon's long, lean body would still be sweaty from the show when he came out of the Bronze. He would scan the alley as his band mates left, confident that someone would be waiting for him. Devon would give a start of surprise when his eyes met Xander's, but then he would grin knowingly and sling an arm around Xander's waist and steer him toward the van. Well, usually it was the van. Sometimes it was down the alley for a blowjob, sometimes it was back to Devon's house for loud, wild sex. It had been Xander's favorite fantasy for a while now; he had had plenty of time to invent variations.

Willow had wanted to watch Oz play at the Bronze tonight, and she'd asked Xander to come along. He'd freaked out about fifteen times, but he'd decided this was the night he would find out if the rumors were true. He changed after school into the shirt Buffy had made him buy at the thrift shop last month. It was an old work shirt with ‘Manuel’ embroidered on the name patch, and she said it was cute and retro. He found that amusing, since he’d been wearing secondhand clothes all his life and he’d never been accused of being fashionable before. He also swapped his baggy cargo pants for a pair of jeans that were almost tight and ran some gel through his hair.

 

There was a good crowd at the Bronze, but Xander and Willow managed to snag a table in front. He sat beside Willow through the Dingoes’ set, smiling at her Oz-centric commentary and pretending that his palms hadn't started to sweat the minute Devon took the stage. The way that boy held the microphone, his eyes half closed and his hips rolling, was close to pornographic.

 

It hadn't been easy to ditch Willow after the show; he'd had to do some very creative storytelling to escape. Xander wasn't sure she'd actually bought his story about needing to be Uncle Rory's designated driver, but he thought it was perfectly credible. Now there was nothing to do but wait. And pace.

 

Xander stuffed his hands in his pocket and wondered if the actual experience would be anything like his fantasies. According to the whispers, Devon was pretty good in bed. And then afterward ... He'd never really considered the afterward. The pacing came to a screeching halt as Xander's brain fast forwarded past the fun part and lurched into *after.* He could picture Devon, staring at him blankly, trying to remember the name of the guy he'd just slept with. In his head, Devon's eyes would land on his shirt, and he'd say, "Thanks, Manny. It was fun." And, God, what if it sucked? What if Xander was no good in bed? Devon was known for kissing and telling, and Xander didn't have the kind of reputation that could stand up to that. Xander considered the startling possibility that losing his virginity to a boy who barely knew him to nod at might not be the best idea.

 

He was still frozen when he heard voices through the stage door. His eyes went big and round, and then Xander bolted into the shadows of the alley. The Dingoes came out, joking and shoving each other. Devon stood tall and confident as he emerged, but after looking around, he seemed to slump in on himself.

 

"Aw! Poor Devon doesn't have a groupie tonight," one of the guys said mockingly. Oz gave him a mild look of reproach, and Devon smacked him upside the head. The other Dingoes started piling into the van, but Devon kept walking, alone.

 

Xander stared at the lead singer as he walked away, striding toward the street with a gait that did dangerously tempting things to his ass. Xander was still twitchy, still hard, but the anticipation had twisted itself into a wistful regret. He watched Devon step out into the glow of the streetlights.

 

Xander stayed in the shadows.

 

Comments

[denied-heaven.livejournal.com]

oh damnn
i loved that
poor baby lol
*pets pets*

[allyndra.livejournal.com]

:o) Thanks! I don't do angst much, but I tried really hard in this one. I'm glad you liked it!

[sublimatedangel]

I just have so much love for this! I love Xander folding his hands over Jesse's, not daring to ask for more, soft best-friend puppy crush with the thrill of the touch and the misery of knowing it will never mean what he wants it to.

I love the dichotomy of Larry and Xander, who are both strangely victims, both fighting with themselves and who'll they'll let themselves be... Xander choking back his chance at winning and Larry forcing himself to be the cookie-cutter quarterback image, using it to avenge the probably very real pain of being mocked by everyone in the room, hating himself for hiding who he is but knowing that honesty and vulnerability will just lead to more cruel laughter. I don't think he likes who he is; I think he's just afraid to abandon the only shred of affection and respect he has, even knowing that it hinges on the role he's playing.

I have boundless love for Willow and Xander dancing through their confusion of friendship and unrequited love, and no way of knowing where to draw the line between the two. Especially in counterpoint to Xander's unspoken fascination for Jesse, whom he loved with the same helpless and undemanding adoration that Willow clearly feels for him. Would he himself have wanted Jesse to "tell" him? Or was the silence better - still knowing it was doomed and unreturned, but at least not actually rejected.

And god, Xander on the cusp of everything, working up his bravery and ready to take a chance, only to realize what a completely terrible idea it would be. He can't help but take his "failure" personally I'm sure, even though he's making the right choice, and it will make it even harder for him to find the courage for the next time. Beautiful shallow Devon shining and untroubled, walking easily in the light while Xander stays in the shadows of the alley and his own fears and worries, unable to step beyond what people will think, unable to stand tall and unashamed.

This whole thing was wonderful, and like four separate little gifts that were all exactly what I wanted, and they fit together in the corners to make a glorious picture of Xander in all his uncertainty and yearning.

[allyndra.livejournal.com]

I cannot express how much I love that you love this! My first thought was to do a five things fic for this, but I couldn't come up with a good fifth thing. I like the idea that Xander never got the chance to tell Jesse how he felt, that it's one of those things Xander will look back on twenty years later and still regret. Because, even though Xander's crush was really hopeless, it was still an important part of his life.

I tried to put plenty of subtext in the Larry section, because I am so on board with the idea that Larry had this long time crush on Xander. And yes, they both feel trapped in roles that don't quite fit, but they're terrified to break out. Even if they don't like thier masks, they feel safe in them.

Willow's crush on Xander played such an important part of their interactions through the first three seasons. It was almost painful to watch, and I had to wonder how much more painful would it be to go through. And how hard would it be to know that by opening up and sharing who you are with your best friend, you would be crushing her hopes? It's a big ball of suck.

The Devon bit I just thought was fun. He's the slut of Buffy fanon, and I thought a young Xander would totally be into him. I have to wonder, since he didn't go to Devon, who this Xander did lose his virginity to. ('Cause it certainly wasn't Faith.)

Thank you for taking the time to write such wonderful comments after you had already read this. *hugs* You deserve lots of gifts.

[sublimatedangel]

The "Five Things" theme is pretty cool since so many wonderful stories have been sparked by it, but I'm glad you ended up not going that route... I really think this is strong enough and serious enough to better without a "gimmick".

Mmm, Xander losing his virginity... I really think that his close call with Devon would've been a major stumbling block. I don't think he could have approached another canon character after that, so Oz/Angel/Giles/whoever would have had to have made the first move. And if they didn't, well, I can see him working up his courage while in Oxnard, where he doesn't have to worry about shallow boys who'll kiss-and-tell and make him miserable and mocked. My Oxnard scenarios tend to be opportunity-for-crossover!-iffic, but it wouldn't have to be.

Hey, also, if you haven't already, you should pimp this out over on xander_slash and btvs_slash. I'm sure there are other Xander fans who would love to read it, and you deserve more praise than I can give you.

[killnotic.livejournal.com]

Oh, man. That kind of hurt to read, because. Been there. Yup.

[allyndra.livejournal.com]

I felt bad for Xander, too. I had to restrain myself from giving him a pretty boy to make it up to him. :o)

Thanks for your comment!