Summary: Xander Harris expected a lot of things, but having to get glasses was never one of them. S2, semi-AU, pre-C/X.

Disclaimer: "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" and all associated characters and situations are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, used for entertainment purposes without permission or intent to profit.

-o0O0o-

"Glasses"
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

-o0O0o-

It was the end of the world and he couldn't blame the supernatural or even make jokes about a certain R.E.M. song. He wasn't the type to tease or mock others, not unless they'd said or done something really stupid so they deserved it, but he had a certain image to maintain. Now that image was lost forever thanks to getting knocked out by a demon, taken to the hospital by the others, and the doctors deciding to call in an eye specialist who made the grim pronouncement after finishing their examination...

There had been a lot of fancy medical terms, Latin-sounding ones that he couldn't make any sense out of, but they all boiled down to one fact. He was near-sighted. Beyond a few feet, less than it should have been, everything started turning into fuzzy shapes and blobs of color. Ultimately, what it meant was that he, Xander Harris, had to have glasses. Hawai'ian shirts and loose pants were one thing, he chose to wear those, they were a fashion statement - and in his head he could almost hear Sunnydale High's own 'Queen C' Cordelia Chase making a comment about that statement being he had no taste in fashion. Being made to wear glasses, however, was something entirely different. He had no choice in the matter and resistance was futile, he was being assimilated into the 'nerd' collective. If he didn't watch himself, he'd end up carrying more pens and pencils than anyone would ever need and enjoying classes, he was sure.

Actually, except for the glasses problem, that described some people he knew when he actually thought about it. Even more since she'd learned there was more things to learn about than computers and math, for that matter. That and the way she seemed to be closer to the Buffster these days was part of the reason he and Willow were growing apart lately, though neither of them had ever actually talked about it. It made him wonder if things would have been any different if Jesse had lived or if he'd have ended up losing him too over time. The only bright spot in the day was that he'd gotten to go home and didn't have to stay in the hospital; hospitals were like mausoleums with better lighting, and he'd been in enough of the second over the last few months to know for that matter.

"There you are!" A female's voice called out, frustration clear in her tone.

In that moment, Xander knew that every old saying, no matter how cliche it was, about no matter how bad things were they could always get worse had to be true. Of all the people he wanted to deal with right now, Cordelia Chase came in somewhere between the missing link between man and troll - otherwise known as Principal Snyder - and the G-Man at his most British. Still well above either of his parents, Deadboy or the Deadboy fangirls otherwise known as Willow and Buffy, though.

Yeah, he was still more than a little bitter over that lap-dance stunt that the Slayer had pulled. That, however, had no immediate bearing on the situation for better or worse. Even then the thought still managed to make it across his mind that sometimes it was easier to deal with Cordelia at her worst than putting up with Buffy at her best. At least Cordelia didn't act so offended when he gave as good as she did during a disagreement, she actually almost seemed to enjoy it at times; the 'Buffster' always wanted to act like someone who didn't agree with her had broken some kind of cosmic law or something, especially lately.

During all these thoughts, Cordelia had been approaching and as soon as she was within a reasonable range, Xander decided to fire the first proverbial shot, "Cordelia. To what do I owe the honor?"

Cordelia smirked and brushed some hair back over her shoulder, "You should feel honored, trust me."

"After the last couple years, I'm not even sure I trust myself," after all, he wouldn't say it out loud, but there had to be something wrong with him that he stuck around for the verbal and emotional abuse that he took from everyone.

"With the kind of clothes you wear, I wouldn't trust you either," Cordelia remarked, then her expression turned devilish. "Though it seems there's finally an explanation for that monsterousness. I always knew you had to be blind to dress like that."

Xander sighed in pained expectation, "I should have known... Come to mock me some more? Maybe call me 'four-eyes' to go with the old standby of 'dweeb'?"

"God, you're such an ass, Harris. I was actually going to say that - unlike those god-awful Hawai'ian shirts - those frames actually look half-way decent, even on you. They almost could make you look handsome, in a 'Clark Kent rips off the shirt and there's Superman' kind of way, with a little more work. But you know what? Forget it, I'll go compliment someone else instead."

"Was there a compliment in there? I really couldn't tell..."

"Like I said - ass."

Xander couldn't stop himself, "Oh, you've been looking?"

As soon as the words were out, he knew that his mouth was going to get him killed. If Cordelia was smart, she'd stab him in the neck with a barbecue fork when she was done, it'd be the perfect way to hide the murder since no one would look twice at that 'cause of death' in Sunnydale. Xander just hoped that, whatever had happened to his body, Jesse's soul was somewhere nice and ready for some company, because with the way Cordelia was glaring, he was sure he was going to be joining his old friend shortly. Whatever he was expecting to happen - which he was sure would most likely be violent or at least filled with scathing remarks - it wasn't what happened.

What happened was that Cordelia shook her head before she spoke, "Why do you think I hate your 'fashion nonsense', Mister Kent?"

Xander stood there, staring in a mixture of confused surprise and pure disbelief.

'Okay,' he finally managed after a few seconds to form a solid thought. 'The doctors were wrong, there's no problem with my eyes... it's my ears that aren't working right anymore.'

Without waiting for any further response, Cordelia turned and walked away, pausing for only a moment to look back over her shoulder and wink.

"Okay, if I think I saw that, I definitely need glasses..." Xander muttered out loud as he watched the retreating feminine form, "Or at least contacts."

-o0O0o-

Author's Note: I really have no honest clue where the idea for this story came from...