Title: That Stupid Camera
Author: Flanna
Rating: PG
Pairing: Xander/Andrew
Spoilers: A wee bit for "Storyteller", but nothing significant.
Disclaimers: You know very well I own nothing having to do with Buffy, including Andrew and Xander and any other characters mentioned.
Feedback: I am such the feedback whore. I crave praise as if it were a sugary and ubercaffeinated Starbuckian beverage.
* * *
Just before noon, a dismayed cry rang out through the downstairs of the Summers' residence:
"Gone! My Precious is gone!"
It was a seriously tragic situation. When Andrew woke, he'd discovered his video camera missing. It wasn't like he could misplace it; he could count the number of possessions he had at the house on his fingers. That wasn't even an exaggeration... well, maybe a slight one. The situation called for an appropriate amount of drama, and any bad situation, Andrew had learned, could be made brighter by working in an appropriate Lord of the Rings reference.
In retrospect, he shouldn't have forced his camera on everyone yesterday. It probably would've been a smart idea to *not* irritate the entire group at such a high-stress time. Half of the people he'd encountered had, at some point, threatened to break the camera or hex it or use it to record events so disturbing he'd have to burn his eyes out with bleach. Everyone had motive, he thought as he glared around the room. Everyone was a suspect.
"Your *what*?" Anya asked. "Oh, are you talking about that stupid camera?"
Andrew whipped his head around and snapped, "What'd you do to it?" in a desperate and whiny tone. He should've known it was the demoness! She probably got vengeance all over his poor camera.
"I didn't touch it!" He saw Anya cast an annoyed frown at him, and felt bad.
"Xander has it," she said. And he felt worse.
He managed to squeak out a "Why?"
She shrugged. "Wanted to tape the carnage upstairs after yesterday's Slayergirl catfight. Making a case to Giles for straight jackets, or something." Upon seeing the look of horror on Andrew's face, she gave a comforting smile. "Oh don't worry, he said he'd make sure not to tape over whatever it is you've got on there."
Tragedy had just turned to utter catastrophe. He muttered a distracted thanks before rocketing up the stairs in search of Xander.
* * *
"Isn't he gorgeous?" The camera focuses on Xander's back. He's shoveling dirt in the garden, dark hair shining in the morning sunlight. Andrew's whisper picks up again: "Xander's always cleaning up the messes that get made around here. He's neat like that. Reliable. And he never complains about it. Right now he's... um, I don't know what he's doing. Planting something, looks like. But whatever - doesn't he look all strong and masculine?"
Xander turns, squints back toward the house. Notices Andrew and the camera and gives a shy wave, ducking his head with a sheepish smile.
"Isn't he just the cutest?"
* * *
He'd paused at the top of the stairs. Andrew's heart was beating so fast that all he could hear was the repetitive thudding in his head. It seemed hard and rhythmic contrasted with his irregular breathing, and the cadence was making his anxiety all the worse. Perhaps, he thought, his heart would get tired and just give out and he'd expire here and never have to face Xander. That seemed like a most pleasant option at the moment.
* * *
He had turned the camera around on himself. Andrew's big eyes sparkle and he quietly gushes, "His hair looks so sexy when it's all touseled like that. Like he just rolled out of bed."
In the background, an out-of-focus Xander continues his yard work.
A dreamy expression crosses Andrew's face. "God. The messy hair, and - and see how his cheeks are all flushed? Well, it's because it's a bit nippy out here, but." His head whips around, checking on Xander's whereabouts, then he lowers his voice conspiratorily. "That's how I picture him looking after sex. Just a little sweaty, you know, sort of damp... and muscles all... all... relaxy, after the exertion... er, and the messy hair... and everything." Soon after, the scene cuts out.
* * *
His breath hitched and Andrew stood frozen outside an open door. The room inside was a horrific scene: curtains torn, items upturned or hurled across the room, the floor covered in the blankets and pillows of makeshift mini-Slayer beds. On the bed in the center of the warzone lay his camera, looking lonely and molested. And at the window stood Xander, stretched upward to remove a stake embedded in the wall.
Andrew cleared his throat. This had the dual purpose of getting the other man's attention, and ensuring his voice didn't come out in a mousey squeak. "Hi Xander," he said. The way he managed to suppress the quiver in his voice made Andrew proud.
Xander stumbled slightly and steadied himself against the wall. He turned around, blushing. "Andrew! Hey, you startled me." He clasped his hands in front of him. "Anything you want with me?" The blush deepened. "I mean, what can I do for you?"
"I just came for - " Andrew gestured limply at the bed, " - that. I didn't know where it was." He smiled, his eyes cast floorward. "Thought someone mighta broken it," he mumbled.
"Oh, that." Xander gave a wide, apologetic grin. "I was going to ask for permission to take it, but you were asleep. And I know last night was sorta hard on you, with the Seal and the deep, irrepressible guilt and all, and I didn't want to wake you."
"How thoughtful of you, Xander." Andrew smiled again, somewhat distractedly. All he wanted to know was whether Xander watched the tape inside. "Erm." He couldn't bring himself to ask.
He didn't need to.
"I didn't erase what you, um... anything on the tape. I made sure..."
Andrew blanched. "Oh. You *did* watch it."
Xander nodded, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.
"Thank you, I suppose," Xander said, following a moment of awkward silence.
There was a sudden rush of dizziness to Andrew's head. His knees felt like half-melted jelly (lime flavor) and Andrew gripped the doorframe to keep from falling over.
Clearing his throat, Xander continued: "I honestly wondered why you always had that camera pointed at me. It's a good thing you provided such illuminating commentary, or I might have thought sinister happenings were afoot." He gave a small smile. "You being ex-evil and all."
"No one was s'posed to see it." It was a pathetic justification, voiced just as small and timid as it sounded in his mind. He shuffled his foot into the carpet, kicked at the stump of a candle on the floor. Inwardly, Andrew prayed for spontaneous combustion.
Xander slipped his hands into the pockets of his wrinkled cords and nodded. "Yes. Yes, that occurred to me around the part where you talked about licking the back of my neck, and how I'd taste." He grinned devilishly at Andrew, watching the smaller man squirm in place.
"The licking!" Andrew groaned. He'd forgotten all about that part! A warm and prickly new wave of horror washed over him.
He felt a sharp pat on his shoulder. "Deep, steady breaths, Andrew," Xander reminded him.
The blond inhaled. All he wanted was to find a quiet place and stay there. Which would be difficult with all the Slayerlings running around. His hand had started to cramp from clutching the doorframe so tightly and he released his deathgrip on the wood. "Just let me get my camera and I'll go, okay?" He whined. "You don't have to, like, tease and stuff. I'm *beyond* mortified as it is."
Xander frowned. There was a soft thump near the window as the stake loosened itself from the wall and fell to the carpet below. "Look, Andrew - " Xander's words took on a concerned tone as he reached out again for the blond's shoulder. "I was just acting dumb. I do that a lot - ask anyone, they'll confirm it."
Andrew gave a nervous half-smile.
"I'm not trying to shame you into exile," he said quietly, grinning at Andrew.
Xander's grip on his shoulder went from gentle to firm, and the touch seemed to burn into his skin. "I don't want you to go yet." Xander had lowered his voice. "Truth is, I've kinda been waiting for you to come looking for the camera." He brushed his thumb across Andrew's collarbone.
Sparks shot through Andrew. "You have?" He breathed, "It's like, bait?"
"Well, I didn't think you'd respond to chum," smirked Xander.
"Heh. Okay. Not going." Andrew looked up at the other man and smiled. "Now, why am I not going?"
Xander gave Andrew a sultry look from under lowered lashes. "I thought we could make our own movie."
"Oh... Oh." Andrew's dizzy feeling returned as all blood suddenly rushed downward.
He leaned against the door til it closed, and with a shaky hand, Andrew locked it.
* * *
Author: Flanna
Rating: PG
Pairing: Xander/Andrew
Spoilers: A wee bit for "Storyteller", but nothing significant.
Disclaimers: You know very well I own nothing having to do with Buffy, including Andrew and Xander and any other characters mentioned.
Feedback: I am such the feedback whore. I crave praise as if it were a sugary and ubercaffeinated Starbuckian beverage.
* * *
Just before noon, a dismayed cry rang out through the downstairs of the Summers' residence:
"Gone! My Precious is gone!"
It was a seriously tragic situation. When Andrew woke, he'd discovered his video camera missing. It wasn't like he could misplace it; he could count the number of possessions he had at the house on his fingers. That wasn't even an exaggeration... well, maybe a slight one. The situation called for an appropriate amount of drama, and any bad situation, Andrew had learned, could be made brighter by working in an appropriate Lord of the Rings reference.
In retrospect, he shouldn't have forced his camera on everyone yesterday. It probably would've been a smart idea to *not* irritate the entire group at such a high-stress time. Half of the people he'd encountered had, at some point, threatened to break the camera or hex it or use it to record events so disturbing he'd have to burn his eyes out with bleach. Everyone had motive, he thought as he glared around the room. Everyone was a suspect.
"Your *what*?" Anya asked. "Oh, are you talking about that stupid camera?"
Andrew whipped his head around and snapped, "What'd you do to it?" in a desperate and whiny tone. He should've known it was the demoness! She probably got vengeance all over his poor camera.
"I didn't touch it!" He saw Anya cast an annoyed frown at him, and felt bad.
"Xander has it," she said. And he felt worse.
He managed to squeak out a "Why?"
She shrugged. "Wanted to tape the carnage upstairs after yesterday's Slayergirl catfight. Making a case to Giles for straight jackets, or something." Upon seeing the look of horror on Andrew's face, she gave a comforting smile. "Oh don't worry, he said he'd make sure not to tape over whatever it is you've got on there."
Tragedy had just turned to utter catastrophe. He muttered a distracted thanks before rocketing up the stairs in search of Xander.
* * *
"Isn't he gorgeous?" The camera focuses on Xander's back. He's shoveling dirt in the garden, dark hair shining in the morning sunlight. Andrew's whisper picks up again: "Xander's always cleaning up the messes that get made around here. He's neat like that. Reliable. And he never complains about it. Right now he's... um, I don't know what he's doing. Planting something, looks like. But whatever - doesn't he look all strong and masculine?"
Xander turns, squints back toward the house. Notices Andrew and the camera and gives a shy wave, ducking his head with a sheepish smile.
"Isn't he just the cutest?"
* * *
He'd paused at the top of the stairs. Andrew's heart was beating so fast that all he could hear was the repetitive thudding in his head. It seemed hard and rhythmic contrasted with his irregular breathing, and the cadence was making his anxiety all the worse. Perhaps, he thought, his heart would get tired and just give out and he'd expire here and never have to face Xander. That seemed like a most pleasant option at the moment.
* * *
He had turned the camera around on himself. Andrew's big eyes sparkle and he quietly gushes, "His hair looks so sexy when it's all touseled like that. Like he just rolled out of bed."
In the background, an out-of-focus Xander continues his yard work.
A dreamy expression crosses Andrew's face. "God. The messy hair, and - and see how his cheeks are all flushed? Well, it's because it's a bit nippy out here, but." His head whips around, checking on Xander's whereabouts, then he lowers his voice conspiratorily. "That's how I picture him looking after sex. Just a little sweaty, you know, sort of damp... and muscles all... all... relaxy, after the exertion... er, and the messy hair... and everything." Soon after, the scene cuts out.
* * *
His breath hitched and Andrew stood frozen outside an open door. The room inside was a horrific scene: curtains torn, items upturned or hurled across the room, the floor covered in the blankets and pillows of makeshift mini-Slayer beds. On the bed in the center of the warzone lay his camera, looking lonely and molested. And at the window stood Xander, stretched upward to remove a stake embedded in the wall.
Andrew cleared his throat. This had the dual purpose of getting the other man's attention, and ensuring his voice didn't come out in a mousey squeak. "Hi Xander," he said. The way he managed to suppress the quiver in his voice made Andrew proud.
Xander stumbled slightly and steadied himself against the wall. He turned around, blushing. "Andrew! Hey, you startled me." He clasped his hands in front of him. "Anything you want with me?" The blush deepened. "I mean, what can I do for you?"
"I just came for - " Andrew gestured limply at the bed, " - that. I didn't know where it was." He smiled, his eyes cast floorward. "Thought someone mighta broken it," he mumbled.
"Oh, that." Xander gave a wide, apologetic grin. "I was going to ask for permission to take it, but you were asleep. And I know last night was sorta hard on you, with the Seal and the deep, irrepressible guilt and all, and I didn't want to wake you."
"How thoughtful of you, Xander." Andrew smiled again, somewhat distractedly. All he wanted to know was whether Xander watched the tape inside. "Erm." He couldn't bring himself to ask.
He didn't need to.
"I didn't erase what you, um... anything on the tape. I made sure..."
Andrew blanched. "Oh. You *did* watch it."
Xander nodded, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.
"Thank you, I suppose," Xander said, following a moment of awkward silence.
There was a sudden rush of dizziness to Andrew's head. His knees felt like half-melted jelly (lime flavor) and Andrew gripped the doorframe to keep from falling over.
Clearing his throat, Xander continued: "I honestly wondered why you always had that camera pointed at me. It's a good thing you provided such illuminating commentary, or I might have thought sinister happenings were afoot." He gave a small smile. "You being ex-evil and all."
"No one was s'posed to see it." It was a pathetic justification, voiced just as small and timid as it sounded in his mind. He shuffled his foot into the carpet, kicked at the stump of a candle on the floor. Inwardly, Andrew prayed for spontaneous combustion.
Xander slipped his hands into the pockets of his wrinkled cords and nodded. "Yes. Yes, that occurred to me around the part where you talked about licking the back of my neck, and how I'd taste." He grinned devilishly at Andrew, watching the smaller man squirm in place.
"The licking!" Andrew groaned. He'd forgotten all about that part! A warm and prickly new wave of horror washed over him.
He felt a sharp pat on his shoulder. "Deep, steady breaths, Andrew," Xander reminded him.
The blond inhaled. All he wanted was to find a quiet place and stay there. Which would be difficult with all the Slayerlings running around. His hand had started to cramp from clutching the doorframe so tightly and he released his deathgrip on the wood. "Just let me get my camera and I'll go, okay?" He whined. "You don't have to, like, tease and stuff. I'm *beyond* mortified as it is."
Xander frowned. There was a soft thump near the window as the stake loosened itself from the wall and fell to the carpet below. "Look, Andrew - " Xander's words took on a concerned tone as he reached out again for the blond's shoulder. "I was just acting dumb. I do that a lot - ask anyone, they'll confirm it."
Andrew gave a nervous half-smile.
"I'm not trying to shame you into exile," he said quietly, grinning at Andrew.
Xander's grip on his shoulder went from gentle to firm, and the touch seemed to burn into his skin. "I don't want you to go yet." Xander had lowered his voice. "Truth is, I've kinda been waiting for you to come looking for the camera." He brushed his thumb across Andrew's collarbone.
Sparks shot through Andrew. "You have?" He breathed, "It's like, bait?"
"Well, I didn't think you'd respond to chum," smirked Xander.
"Heh. Okay. Not going." Andrew looked up at the other man and smiled. "Now, why am I not going?"
Xander gave Andrew a sultry look from under lowered lashes. "I thought we could make our own movie."
"Oh... Oh." Andrew's dizzy feeling returned as all blood suddenly rushed downward.
He leaned against the door til it closed, and with a shaky hand, Andrew locked it.
* * *