it's been ten years since they defeated the First Evil, destroying his life long home town of Sunnydale. ten years of loss. ten years of mourning. ten years of fighting the good fight, bouncing from town to town, country to country, collecting and training Slayers. small victories in the never ending war between the forces of good and the creatures of the night that seek to destoy or enslave them.
after those ten long years, he's tired. he's grown weary of saving the world year after year. day after day stopping another apocalypse or some cult trying to resurrect their long dead leader.
stifling the grunt of pain that tries to sound from his chest as he flops down on the sofa he cracks the tab on a beer, relishing the sound that signifies another too long day coming to an end. after a few slight adjustments of the eye patch covering what used to be his left eye, he half heartedly reaches for the remote control to begin his usual routine of mind numbing television until either he falls asleep, or his roommate gets home and steals the TV for some sci-fi show or other. he's kinda lost track of the newest additions to his friends reportoire.
about an hour into some random vampire movie, (they all seem the same to him these days), the sound of keys jingling and the lock thud attracts his attention to the main entrance down the hall. he turns his head to the sound of his roommate closing the front door and dropping his briefcase in it's usual spot by the door to wait until he relaxed a little, before returning it to his small desk in their shared library at the back of the house.
"hey Andy, another fun day, huh?" his comment is greeted by a heavy sigh and the sounds of feet shuffling from the doorway to the livingroom, ending with the tired blonde flopping gracelessly onto the sofa beside Xander, nearly landing his head in the larger man's lap. Xander gives a soft chuckle and shifts a little to make more room, not that he has a problem with the arrangement, over the years he and Andrew have become quite close friends, and Xan held Andrew close to the same level of friendship as Willow and Buffy, so practically sitting on top of each other wasn't an issue.
Andrew sits up a little, loosening his tie and brushing the maybe a little too long hair out of his eyes before not so subtly removing the remote from Xan's lap, flipping channels til he sees the welcoming smile of his favorite second in command, Commander Riker. "new Slayer. she has got some kind of attitude on her. i mean, not as much as Faith, but man, does she resist training." the sounds of alarms blaring from the bridge of the Enterprise distracts them both for a moment before he continues, pulling his legs up under himself to get more comfortable. "remember that girl you found down in Chile? the one with the really hard to pronounce name?" the one eyed now former Watcher nods once as he sips his beer. "well, apparently she doesn't get along /at all/ with our new girl, Melissa, and now they've got some kind of competition to see who can stake the most vamps in a night, and of /course/ it was my night to take them on patrol." Andrew pauses his retelling of his day long enough to remove his suit jacket, tossing it over the chair to his right, resettling into his seat to regail his friend with his day. "after they both bagged three, Donna and i, you remember Donna, that really sweet one that lived with us for a few weeks in Cincinatti before she moved in with Willow?" another small nod. Xander knew better than to try to say too much during the debriefing of Andy's Watcher duties. there was just no point until the bulk of information has been released. "well, she's in town for a few weeks to help out in training the new crew. she says hi, by the way. so sweet. anyway, Donna and i had gone a little ahead to scout the area and catch up on things, when Melissa comes running past us, full body tackling a vamp, totally not even looking to see if he was alone!" Andrew shifts again, getting fairly into his story "she had no stake in her hand, no sword, nothing! Donna and i both tried to remind her of proper procedure, always have your stake, never go in alone like that, but did she listen? no, of course not." Xan has to hold back the laugh at the expression of indignation on Andrew's face, but allows a wide smile to form, still finding Andrew's seriousness about his job amusing after all these years. "after she got knocked around a bit Donna dusted the vamp and we called it a night."
Xander finishes his beer and signals Andy with his empty one in a silent offer to get him one as he stands carefully, favoring his left leg while trying to hide his little aches and pains from his too often concerned friend. Andrew notices his slight limp, of course, but doesn't mention it. he knows Xan likes to try to pretend he's fine, even when he's practically dying, which has happened more than once over the years. he shakes his head, giving a polite smile of refusal, and waits for him to return before continuing with his evenings events.
as the night wears on Xander and Andrew broach many topics, from the basics of Xanders day, filled mostly with repairing various items damaged by training Slayers, basic weapons training with said Slayers, then his quick trip to medical to see to a minor injury from an over enthusiastic girl, more about Andrew's Slayers, his watcher duties, and the new assistant that just can't seem to keep everyone's names straight, then, as Xander finished off beer after beer, more intense topics, such as how much they both missed Anya, whom they both remember as a shining hero, never ceasing in the fight until the last possible moment. over the years Andrew has retold her final moments to Xander many times, sometimes with an embellishment so crazy no one could possibly believe it, but usually just how brave she was, even when she knew she wouldn't make it out alive. Xander still calls her 'his girl', and Andrew still calls her 'the perfect woman'. before long Xander dips into his former depressive state of mind, which Andrew is always ready for, and always hoping he'll never have to see again. (having to call Willow for a twenty four hour suicide watch is never a good way to get her attention)
he lets Xander say what's on his mind, mostly lamenting his loneliness and dating failures, but puts a stop to it spiraling out of control with a few well placed words that he's had to use a few too many times, but are no less effective. a contemplative slience passes between the two men, and after reassurances that he was ok again, a gentle embrace and 'see, i'm fine, really' smile, Xander unsteadily climbs off the couch and heads to bed.
with one last wave goodnight Xander wanders into his bedroom, stripping out of his worn tee shirt and jeans with each step, finally landing face down on his bed in just his boxers and his beginning to show it's years of constant adjustments eyepatch.
a few minutes of near unconsciousness pass and the muffled sounds of his fellow exhausted Scooby heading to bed can be heard passing his door, continuing on to his own room down the hall. after the quiet click of the other bedroom door Xan pulls himself up further on his bed, pulling off his eyepatch and tossing it to his side table in a well practiced fluid movement, leaving his arm where it lands, dangling over the edge of his bed.
a strange feeling on his right foot shakes him from his drunken half sleep, but, far too confused and sleepy to really place what the feeling is, he simply moves his foot a little and flops his head to the other side. a few minutes later the feeling continues, stronger this time, forcing Xan to lift his head to try to find the source.
"Andy?" his sleep addled scratchy voice whispers to the persistant sensation, now seeming to be a pair of hands massaging his right foot. he gets no reply from the hands other than a soft chuckle and harder pressure, right in the peak of his perpetually sore arch. "what are you... uuhhooooohh..." his attempt to figure out what was happening was silenced by a twist of a thumb in just the best way, deep in the tender muscles of his foot, toes stretching at the glorious sensations it causes, his face burying into the pillow in pleasure.
while he tries to gather his thoughts on why his roomate decided to surprise him with spontanious foot rubbing, those seemingly magickal hands began to travel. first all over his right foot, then his left, each getting equal treatment, not an inch being missed in their explorations. then both ankles, calves, and knees. everywhere they touch tingles with happiness, the little aches and pains that have been accumulating over the years feeling like they were just melting out of his increasingly tired legs. he couldn't remember the last time someone touched him like this. paid so much attention to any part of him, let alone /every/ part of him.
the hands seemed to know that one little spot in his right knee that always clicks when he walks, and made sure to be extra gentle when tending to the ligaments at the back of the leg. Xander gasped softly as both hands find the old spear wound just above his left knee, now a few years old, (acquired in one of those jungley countries on one of his Slayer searches) that never quite healed right, a near whimper forming in his throat as the constant ache all but drains from the muscles surrounding the large, deep scar.
finally finding the ability to speak Xan rolls slowly to his back, opening his eye to look at his confused dark-of-the-night massuese. "Andy, not like i don't appreciate it, but, why are you doing this?
after a few silent blinks Andrew just shakes his head and leans up toward Xan, placing a finger on his lips. "shh. this is just something i want to do for you. there's no need to talk about it. i see how you struggle to keep all your pain hidden from everyone. how you hide your aches with jokes about your age. and your excuses for not going on patrol are getting worse by the day." he gives his friend a gentle smile as he smooths his hand along his cheek. "i see how hard you work every day to help everyone, just lay back, and let someone help you for once."
before Xander has a chance to think about the words that are now hanging heavily on him, those hands move back to their tasks, picking up exactly where they left off as if nothing had stopped them at all, and really, felt too good for Xander to question anything else about the situation. maybe if he hadn't put away a case of beer that night, he may have had the mental strength to say something more, but as it was, he just drops his head back to his pillow and lay there, feeling every muscle pull, every spasm of pleasure his scars and old battle wounds give him as his determined new hero works every part of both his legs, noticeably carefully working around that one place that might make this situation go from comfortable to awkward with the slip of a finger.
by the time most wonderful hands Xander has ever experienced finish their carefully controlled travels of his upper thighs, (of course after some slight shifting of Xander's legs to a slightly more open position, but only to work on the thigh/hip joints without certain other parts getting in the way, as it were) and continue their seemingly endless journey across his worst bodily complaints, travelling up his lower stomach and love handles, Xander fell asleep, more deeply than he has slept in a long, long time.