Fic: Question to the World 3/4

[allyndra]

Pike and Xander, out and about.

Xander had found a new favorite thing in his love affair with Pike's motorcycle. There were a lot of awesome things about it, from the way it kick started to the vibrations that made Xander feel all tingly even after he'd gotten off, but those weren't his favorites. No, the thing he loved best was the way it turned. In cars, turns were safe. Turns were a non-issue. Buckled in and enclosed, turns only mattered so far as they got him where he was going.

 

But on the bike ... Turns felt dangerous. Pike had to lean into the turns, while Xander tried to sit up straight, so he didn't throw off the balance. This meant Xander had to loosen his grip on Pike while the entire bike was leaning. He had to resist the urge to move with the vehicle and its driver, resist the pull of Pike and of gravity. It was exhilarating and a little scary. Best of all, when they came out of the curve, he got to wrap his arms tight around Pike again.

 

They circled the town for long enough that Xander began to suspect that Pike was enjoying the ride almost as much as he was. There really wasn't much to see. Xander pointed out the busiest graveyards, the road to the beach, the deserted Bronze, which was closed until evening. He had always known Sunnydale was a small town, but he had never realized it was quite this boring. He wondered what it said about him, that he had lived his entire life in such a dull town and hadn't even noticed. When it was clear there wasn't anything else to see, Pike pulled into the lot for the City Park and rolled to a stop.

 

"You wanna walk around for a while?" Pike asked, glancing back over his shoulder. Xander straightened up quickly, trying to look as though he hadn't been cuddling down behind Pike while they rode.

 

"Sure," Xander agreed. When he hit the ground, he was surprised to find that his legs felt rubbery. He stamped on the ground to shake off the feeling, wondering if this was something like sailors getting their sea legs. He'd never heard of motorcycle legs before, but then again, he'd managed to ignore vast amounts of information in his young life. He might have just missed it. He stomped one last time and snuck a sidelong look at his companion. "So," he said, "were you and Buffy okay?" He wanted very much to ask exactly what they had talked about, but he swallowed those words down. He didn't want to scare the nice boy away by coming across all psycho.

 

Pike's lips quirked into half-smile. "It was good. I don't have a lot of real friends. Don't want to lose the few I've got."

 

Xander nodded. He'd had Jesse and Willow, and now he had Buffy and Willow. And Giles, who was about thirty years too old and fifty times too British for the title of 'bestest bud' to sit well with him. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost his core group of friends.

 

Pike kicked a small rock out of his path and said, "I think she's gone a little insane to be dating a vampire, no matter how big a soul he's got."

 

Relief swept over Xander. He'd been afraid that, even after his lunch with Buffy, Pike might not know about Angel. He so hadn't wanted to be the one to break that news. How would he even do that? 'Hey, you know your cute, blonde ex-honey? Well she's making time with the evil undead, but don't worry. He's a charter member of Bloodsuckers Anonymous.' Definitely not a conversation starter.

 

"Angel is ... Angel. Buffy knows what he is, but she can't stop herself from getting all googley eyed when he's around. Whatchya gonna do?" He shrugged philosophically, quite as if he'd never considered staking Angel in his sleep.

 

"The Slayer in love with a vampire. That's ..." Don't say poetic. Don't say poetic. "... gross." Xander managed not to declare his undying love right then and there, but it was a close thing. He cleared his throat and tried to think of a less dangerous topic.

 

"You used to help Buffy with the Slay-stuff in LA?" he asked.

 

"Yeah," Pike said. Xander rolled his eyes at that extremely informative answer.

 

"Did she lure you in with promises of glamour and cookies, or did you just decide that the high death rate in the field of vampire slaying left a lot of room for advancement?"

 

Pike stopped and stared at him, and Xander worried that he was babbling. It was Willow's fault. He'd gotten so used to their often circuitous mode of conversation that he sometimes forgot that other people didn't talk that way. Pike didn't look irritated though. He just raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You got cookies?" he asked.

 

"Not often. And really, Buffy's baking skills are well suited to her life as the Slayer. If you ever tell her I said that, I'll find a way to punish you," Xander warned. He tried to look threatening, but he doubted it was working. There was no reason for his intimidation skills to suddenly blossom.

 

Pike resumed walking, and Xander kept pace. They sauntered through the park until they got to the playground at the far end. Pike dropped down onto a swing, nudging himself back and forth with one toe. He met Xander's eyes and finally spoke. "I was scared, and then I was pissed. The vampires ... They turned my best friend. When I tried to leave town, they wrecked my van. I was gonna just find another way to jet, but then I thought, 'Hell, no!' I wasn't going to just give up, let them win, you know?"

 

"Yeah, I know," he said quietly. He held Pike's gaze until the other boy nodded. There was an ocean of pain in those eyes, a world of hurt, a veritable cornucopia of bad memories. Sighing, Xander slumped down into the swing next to Pike. He felt deflated. He didn't want to talk about what, who he had lost to the vampires, and he hated the thought that Pike had lost people, too. Idly, Xander started pushing himself on the swing. Despite the fact that he hadn't swung in years, he found the rhythm quickly. He wondered why there was a saying about riding a bike but not about swinging a swing. Maybe there was a widespread alliteration prejudice he didn't know about. He had loved swinging when he was little. There was that one moment, right at the top of his arc, when he felt like he was flying. The fact that he was tethered to the ground by steel chains didn't seem to matter much. He pumped his legs back and forth, driving himself higher and higher. His neck was tense and his shoes were dusty, but he felt lighter, like he'd left his momentary depression behind.

 

On a down stroke, Xander looked over at Pike and saw that the other boy swinging as well. They shared a slightly manic grin, Xander's tinged with relief. By the unwritten rules of geekdom, Pike couldn't mock him for being childish if he shared in it. Pike pushed himself as high as he could go. Then, with a smirk of challenge, he leapt off his swing. Xander faltered in his rhythm as he watched to make sure Pike landed safely. He did, and Xander had no choice. That smirk had been like a double dog dare, and Xander had been raised on "A Christmas Story." At the top of his next arc, he thrust his arms back, launching himself off his own swing. He hit the ground rolling, grateful not to have damaged anything vital. He came to a stop right next to Pike, and he lay for a moment, flat on his back, with his head turned to face the other boy. Pike was breathing hard, and his eyes had a brightness that made them look like no one had ever called them soulful. Like they were happy. Xander's breath caught.

 

He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if he lay there for one more minute he would do something intensely, unforgivably stupid. He hadn't spent the last seventeen years being Xander Harris without learning this. With a supreme force of will, he pulled his eyes away from Pike. He rolled to his stomach and then pushed himself to his feet. "Race you to the merry-go-round," he said. He waited only long enough to be sure Pike planned to follow before taking off.

 

Xander could run. He wasn't track star fast, but he had a certain speed and maneuverability gleaned from years of dodging bullies. Now, of course, he dodged demons who were, on the whole, more evil but considerably less cruel. He poured all of his speed into the short sprint to the merry-go-round and leapt aboard. The circular platform shifted under his weight, and Xander found himself sprawling backward. He caught himself on the hand-holds, but he was still half reclining when Pike arrived.

 

"You cheated," he accused. "I was still on the ground."

 

"I never cheat! I prefer to think of it as a strategic use of my more vertical position," Xander said somewhat smugly. Pike didn't reply. He reached out and grabbed one of the handles and started pulling the merry-go-round. He built up speed quickly, and when it was turning steadily, he jumped on. Xander looked up at him. Everything behind Pike was blurred by their motion, and the effect was dizzying. It was almost like a movie, when they focus the camera on the important clue and let everything else in the frame go fuzzy. They spun slower and slower, until they glided to a stop. Xander wondered if the quiver in his belly was from the motion or from the fact that Pike was so close, kneeling right in front of him.

 

The world stopped blurring, but Pike was still the only thing Xander could focus on. The other boy's face had lost its grin, but his eyes hadn't gone back to soulful. And they were getting closer. Pike was moving forward, slowly advancing on him. Xander swallowed. "Hey," he said quietly. Not protesting, just ... greeting.

 

"Hey," Pike replied. "I'm gonna make strategic use of my more vertical position. 'Kay?"

 

Xander couldn't answer. He nodded, his eyes large, and then Pike was kissing him. His lips were soft and warm, and Xander closed his eyes to appreciate them better. Somehow, his brain was thinking a million things at once. He wondered if Spin-the-Bottle with Willow and Jesse counted, or if this was his first real kiss. He wondered how he was supposed to breathe with his mouth so well occupied. And he wondered if they could be arrested for gay kissing on a children's playground. Despite all of these thoughts, most of his attention and all of his senses were trained on Pike. Who was kissing him. Who should never do anything other than kissing him.

 

Pike pulled away and waited. His shoulders looked tense, and the realization that Pike was nervous hit Xander like a lightning bolt, if lightning bolts made you grin and want to crow. He didn't crow, but he did grin. He pulled himself up, easing the strain he suddenly noticed on his arms. The fact that this brought him back into kissing range was a nice side effect, and Xander leaned in. He kissed Pike, short and hard, then slipped past him to climb off the merry-go-round.

 

"My turn," he said, and he started running. When his legs protested the effort, he flung himself back aboard and let the motion slide his body against Pike's. They pressed together, spinning at a different speed than the rest of the world. Xander leaned against the handles to keep them turning just as long as possible.