Title: Penance
Author: Jen
Rating: G
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author's notes: Set soon after 'Storyteller'
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I want nothing. I know nothing.
*****
Surely he should to be used to things going bump in the night now? So why did something so innocent as a faintly creaking floorboard jolt through him like a thousand volts? He whirled around, barely hanging on to his half- filled glass of milk, a gasp softening to a grateful sigh at the site of Xander illuminated in the blue refrigerator glow.
"Whoa." Xander's hands were up in surrender, eyes widening briefly as Andrew felt his own must still be as he tried to get over the shock. "I mean, it's an ego-boost to know someone here finds me intimidating," he continued in hushed tones, "but I'm not looking to give anyone a heart- attack right now." It was followed by a reassuring smile. Andrew tried to mimic it, but stopped when he realised his face had merely twisted into a manic grin that made his cheeks hurt. No need to try and scare Xander right back.
With still shaking hands he set his glass down on the counter and stepped aside to let Xander get to the fridge. Fingers tapped a distracted rhythm on the Formica as his gaze flitted about the room. Can't stare. That would be rude. He listened to pots and jars clinking as Xander rummaged, until the sound was punctuated by muffled cursing.
"No juice." This was out loud: Xander didn't whisper anymore. "How can we be out of juice already?"
"Don't you have juice at your apartment?"
It wasn't meant to sound so rude. Andrew winced: being tactful was so hard sometimes. He retrieved his glass and tried to hide his discomfort in a long slurp of milk.
Standing straight again, Xander broke into a mirthless smile, glaring at him around the refrigerator door. "Says the guy who's been sponging off of Buffy for how many weeks now?"
"Um, hostage, remember?" he pointed out meekly, hoping this wasn't going to turn into another round of Andrew-bashing. He could have pointed out his recent usefulness, what with being the one to close up the seal and all, but figured Xander would probably just blame him for it being open in the first place, so he kept his mouth shut. Buffy had been right: penance wasn't so methodical as he'd thought. He wondered how many hours of put- downs would be equal to one heroic act of repentance. It was not a happy thought.
A surprised "oh" from Xander drew his attention back to the kitchen, and he realised he wasn't being glared at anymore. Andrew watched from over the top of his glass as Xander retrieved a slightly crumpled juice-box from somewhere inside the refrigerator. "I'm sure Dawn won't mind this little sacrifice." He was probably just talking to himself, Andrew decided, but he wouldn't complain: if Xander didn't mind Andrew hearing it, then that was almost like Xander was speaking to him. In the face of an impending apocalypse, you had to take what you could get.
"I'm sure she won't mind if it's you." It was said without thinking. He held his breath, putting on what he hoped was an innocent look as he glanced back up at Xander. There was a moment of silence as confusion passed over Xander's face, only to be replaced a second later by a look of 'whatever', joined by a shrug. Maybe sometimes it was a blessing that no one ever took him seriously.
The little snort of laughter that followed Xander's mutterings was unexpected.
"What?" Andrew furrowed his brow, another uncomfortable smile crossing his face. This time Xander did acknowledge him.
"I'm in a house full of beautiful women, but juice is what makes me happy." He laughed again. Andrew tried to join in, but stopped when he realised how nervous he must have sounded. "Guess the world really is coming to an end this time."
There were times, Andrew realised, when it was hard to remember that some of the people in the house had done the whole apocalypse thing several times over already. In casual moments when people chitchatted about juice, or laundry, or chores, it was almost possible to forget what they were all working towards. Maybe, he wondered, after the third or fourth time, it might start to get a little passé. Perhaps that was why Xander could be so relaxed right now. Wow. Extraordinary didn't even begin to cover it.
He ran a finger around the rim of his nearly empty glass, searching desperately for some witty response. When that wasn't forthcoming, he searched instead for something to break the sudden awkward silence.
"So how's that gay thing working out for you?"
The 'whatever' look on Xander's face slipped almost instantly into a 'what the hell?' Andrew made a mental note to work on the tact thing some more.
"Are you serious?" Xander's eyebrows had shot up about as high as they could go, but then after a moment he appeared strangely thoughtful. "Huh. People are mistaking my sarcasm for honesty. Maybe it's time to cut back."
Andrew tried for what he hoped was a look of 'I know you were kidding, don't you know I know?' It was hard, and he quickly gave up.
"Well, in this house it's kinda hard to tell sometimes." He shrugged, hoping he could at least look blasé about the whole thing. "I mean, what with Willow and Kennedy, and Spike and the Principal - "
Xander cut him off with a snigger. He waited, already flinching, for the next put-down. He could see Xander's mind working on it, could feel the acidity as Xander looked him up and down.
"Guess they just don't make evil geniuses the way they used to." He closed up the refrigerator to punctuate the sentence, and turned away, chewing on his straw.
Andrew was almost disappointed. Either Xander was losing his touch, or he actually didn't want to be vicious anymore. Oh, he hoped it was the latter. He was craving a decent conversation.
"What are you doing up anyway?" He realised Xander was watching him expectantly. Maybe this was it. He set his empty glass down and leaned back on the counter.
"Have you ever tried sleeping in a chair?" At least that sounded casual enough. Not whiny at all. He was rewarded with a hesitant look of sympathy from Xander. And was that a smile? Whatever, it made his stomach feel buzzy. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm at risk of some serious lower back troubles." Damn. Back to whiny again. The sympathy was immediately withdrawn.
"You're a hostage. It's not like you have a union or anything."
He could only watch as Xander padded quietly back to wherever he'd been sleeping. Yup, penance was a bitch.
Andrew resisted a sigh as he followed out of the kitchen and back to his chair. A streetlight outside the window gave enough light for him to see Xander settling himself down on one of the armchairs. He hadn't even realised Xander had fallen asleep there, and he wondered what had distracted him when that happened.
Something thumped softly against his forehead, and dropped into his arms. He felt buzzy again as he realised it was the cushion from Xander's armchair.
*****
*****
Surely he should to be used to things going bump in the night now? So why did something so innocent as a faintly creaking floorboard jolt through him like a thousand volts? He whirled around, barely hanging on to his half- filled glass of milk, a gasp softening to a grateful sigh at the site of Xander illuminated in the blue refrigerator glow.
"Whoa." Xander's hands were up in surrender, eyes widening briefly as Andrew felt his own must still be as he tried to get over the shock. "I mean, it's an ego-boost to know someone here finds me intimidating," he continued in hushed tones, "but I'm not looking to give anyone a heart- attack right now." It was followed by a reassuring smile. Andrew tried to mimic it, but stopped when he realised his face had merely twisted into a manic grin that made his cheeks hurt. No need to try and scare Xander right back.
With still shaking hands he set his glass down on the counter and stepped aside to let Xander get to the fridge. Fingers tapped a distracted rhythm on the Formica as his gaze flitted about the room. Can't stare. That would be rude. He listened to pots and jars clinking as Xander rummaged, until the sound was punctuated by muffled cursing.
"No juice." This was out loud: Xander didn't whisper anymore. "How can we be out of juice already?"
"Don't you have juice at your apartment?"
It wasn't meant to sound so rude. Andrew winced: being tactful was so hard sometimes. He retrieved his glass and tried to hide his discomfort in a long slurp of milk.
Standing straight again, Xander broke into a mirthless smile, glaring at him around the refrigerator door. "Says the guy who's been sponging off of Buffy for how many weeks now?"
"Um, hostage, remember?" he pointed out meekly, hoping this wasn't going to turn into another round of Andrew-bashing. He could have pointed out his recent usefulness, what with being the one to close up the seal and all, but figured Xander would probably just blame him for it being open in the first place, so he kept his mouth shut. Buffy had been right: penance wasn't so methodical as he'd thought. He wondered how many hours of put- downs would be equal to one heroic act of repentance. It was not a happy thought.
A surprised "oh" from Xander drew his attention back to the kitchen, and he realised he wasn't being glared at anymore. Andrew watched from over the top of his glass as Xander retrieved a slightly crumpled juice-box from somewhere inside the refrigerator. "I'm sure Dawn won't mind this little sacrifice." He was probably just talking to himself, Andrew decided, but he wouldn't complain: if Xander didn't mind Andrew hearing it, then that was almost like Xander was speaking to him. In the face of an impending apocalypse, you had to take what you could get.
"I'm sure she won't mind if it's you." It was said without thinking. He held his breath, putting on what he hoped was an innocent look as he glanced back up at Xander. There was a moment of silence as confusion passed over Xander's face, only to be replaced a second later by a look of 'whatever', joined by a shrug. Maybe sometimes it was a blessing that no one ever took him seriously.
The little snort of laughter that followed Xander's mutterings was unexpected.
"What?" Andrew furrowed his brow, another uncomfortable smile crossing his face. This time Xander did acknowledge him.
"I'm in a house full of beautiful women, but juice is what makes me happy." He laughed again. Andrew tried to join in, but stopped when he realised how nervous he must have sounded. "Guess the world really is coming to an end this time."
There were times, Andrew realised, when it was hard to remember that some of the people in the house had done the whole apocalypse thing several times over already. In casual moments when people chitchatted about juice, or laundry, or chores, it was almost possible to forget what they were all working towards. Maybe, he wondered, after the third or fourth time, it might start to get a little passé. Perhaps that was why Xander could be so relaxed right now. Wow. Extraordinary didn't even begin to cover it.
He ran a finger around the rim of his nearly empty glass, searching desperately for some witty response. When that wasn't forthcoming, he searched instead for something to break the sudden awkward silence.
"So how's that gay thing working out for you?"
The 'whatever' look on Xander's face slipped almost instantly into a 'what the hell?' Andrew made a mental note to work on the tact thing some more.
"Are you serious?" Xander's eyebrows had shot up about as high as they could go, but then after a moment he appeared strangely thoughtful. "Huh. People are mistaking my sarcasm for honesty. Maybe it's time to cut back."
Andrew tried for what he hoped was a look of 'I know you were kidding, don't you know I know?' It was hard, and he quickly gave up.
"Well, in this house it's kinda hard to tell sometimes." He shrugged, hoping he could at least look blasé about the whole thing. "I mean, what with Willow and Kennedy, and Spike and the Principal - "
Xander cut him off with a snigger. He waited, already flinching, for the next put-down. He could see Xander's mind working on it, could feel the acidity as Xander looked him up and down.
"Guess they just don't make evil geniuses the way they used to." He closed up the refrigerator to punctuate the sentence, and turned away, chewing on his straw.
Andrew was almost disappointed. Either Xander was losing his touch, or he actually didn't want to be vicious anymore. Oh, he hoped it was the latter. He was craving a decent conversation.
"What are you doing up anyway?" He realised Xander was watching him expectantly. Maybe this was it. He set his empty glass down and leaned back on the counter.
"Have you ever tried sleeping in a chair?" At least that sounded casual enough. Not whiny at all. He was rewarded with a hesitant look of sympathy from Xander. And was that a smile? Whatever, it made his stomach feel buzzy. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm at risk of some serious lower back troubles." Damn. Back to whiny again. The sympathy was immediately withdrawn.
"You're a hostage. It's not like you have a union or anything."
He could only watch as Xander padded quietly back to wherever he'd been sleeping. Yup, penance was a bitch.
Andrew resisted a sigh as he followed out of the kitchen and back to his chair. A streetlight outside the window gave enough light for him to see Xander settling himself down on one of the armchairs. He hadn't even realised Xander had fallen asleep there, and he wondered what had distracted him when that happened.
Something thumped softly against his forehead, and dropped into his arms. He felt buzzy again as he realised it was the cushion from Xander's armchair.
*****