TITLE: Driving Etiquette (Part 1)
SERIES: It Started With A Car....
AUTHOR: Jana Kay
EMAIL: jana_kay17@yahoo.com.au
DISCLAIMER: All characters named here belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and 20th Century Fox. No profit being made, I'm just playing.
RATING: R and in future parts *MAY* contain **M/M and F/F SLASH** references. I'm not sure yet, but best to be warned.
PAIRING: X/Anya and S/D
SPOILERS: This takes place a week after 'Where the Wild Things Are,' and breaks from canon from that.
SUMMARY: Xander and Anya find themselves stuck in a small situation.
*****
With every second that ticked by on his Scooby watch, with every minute that passed by and stretched the day a little longer and made the heat in the enclosed space stifle him even more, Xander mentally kicked himself and physically knocked his head against the sides of the space more and more.
I mean honestly, just what in the Hell had he been thinking?
"You know An, maybe you should learn to drive? You wouldn't believe how much it helps you to get around."
Stupid moron that he was, he'd actually thought that with her whole, 'woman make home and man make money to buy pretty things for woman' kick, she'd say no.
Instead, she'd jumped at the chance.
"Can we use your strange uncle with the feathered hair's car?"
Cringe.
"Yeah An, we can use my....*Uncle Rory's* car." Complete with his own cute patented hand gestures. And would you believe it? They passed *right* over Anya's head. Well, thank you so very much.
Now asking her had been a mistake in and of itself. Taking her in his car.... HIS.... damn it HIS car was Xander Harris' dumb mistake numero deux.
Well look at that, some of the French he'd learned in high school *had* actually seeped into his brain. Pity it was only a number that kids at the *age* of deux could easily learn faster than him. Because hey, if Alexander LaVelle Harris could really learn fast, he never, *never* would have let things even begin to head in this direction, let alone have them sitting smack bang in the middle of the fucking damn thing.
He shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, and bumped himself up against Anya.
"Xander, stop it! You're taking up all the room!"
And so he ground his teeth together as he tried unsuccessfully to move over to the other millimetre of space in the small car trunk, praying that there would actually be enough air back there to last him, until the fucker in the front with the radio blaring decided to finally pull over so they could yell for help.
Would you believe it? They'd gotten carjacked, with them in the car, because Anya had picked up a hitch-hiker while he was busy. Getting a soda. Which the fucker in the front had happily divested him of, with a wink and a "Cheers!" before his head had been knocked up against the side of the car and he woke up in this enclosed coffin like space, with Anya's equally unconscious body next to him.
How could things possibly get worse you ask?
Anya came to.
Not that he wanted to diss Anya, because she was his girlfriend, and he loved her as much as he knew how, but come on. Everybody has their limits.
In this pseudo coffin with darkness so infinite you couldn't even see your own hand when it was in front of your face, Anya had so far managed to calmly bulldoze through his limits and set herself up a quaint little bed and breakfast home a good couple of miles past his temper switch. The only thing currently stopping him from grabbing her by her neck and throttling her, was the fact that he'd moved away from her a few seconds ago, and now couldn't find her.
Okay, so he was really close and could probably easily find her neck if he wanted to, but cut him some slack. It was really dark in here, and that just skewed his perception so completely that he knew if he reached over, he'd accidentally grab a breast or something instead of her neck, and then he'd have to endure her screeching about him wanting to cop a feel while they were being kidnapped.
Like he *really* didn't have more important things to think about....
Okay, he won't answer that....and he'll stay right away from Anya.
"Xander, can't you get him to lower the music?"
He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue in her face's general direction, glad she couldn't see him. "Sure An, just let me knock here on the roof and ask the polite kidnapper to lower the music so you don't go deaf."
A distinctly unladylike snort came from Anya, and then her dry voice replied, "You know, you don't have to be so rude and sarcastic. I mean, this is all your fault. You should really take responsibility for your own actions instead of throwing them onto somebody else's unsuspecting shoulders."
Xander's eyes bulged out of his head in the darkness, and he felt himself choking on his own saliva that had dribbled down the wrong pipe from shock. "Gaaahhh..... ahhhhhh..... aaaaaaeeexcuse me? It's *my* fault? Who picked up the damn hitch-hiker here Anya? Not me!"
He heard her huff from less than a foot away, her warm breath tickling his cheek and neck.
"Well, if you'd been in the car, then none of this would have happened. But you men always think with your stomach's. You just *had* to go to a convenience store didn't you. I mean honestly, between continually stalling your car and then almost running it into a metal pylon, what could have possibly given you the idea that I know the etiquette of driving?" He could feel her roll her eyes and glare in his direction, even though he couldn't see it.
It was coming....it was coming....give it time....
"Men never change."
He shoots, he scores! The crowd goes wild! And now is so not the time to start thinking of his sports fantasies.
He shifts again in the trunk, his body starting to go numb from being cramped in such a small space, and his eyes are still slightly runny and irritated from the smoke that had been blown in them.
Lousy fucker in the front seat just had to be a smoker didn't he? No doubt he was having a blast up front in *Xander's car,* singing along to the loud music, raising Hell on his poor, tortured speedometer, tossing the ash from his stick thin cigarettes all over his squeaky clean seats and carpet....oh yeah, Xander really *didn't* like smokers.
Especially one smoker in particular, who was probably planning his and Anya's demise right this very second.
Damn! How stupid could they all be?
They'd all just gotten so used to the bleached idiot being around.
Why hadn't anybody told them that Spike had gotten the chip out?
End.
SERIES: It Started With A Car....
AUTHOR: Jana Kay
EMAIL: jana_kay17@yahoo.com.au
DISCLAIMER: All characters named here belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and 20th Century Fox. No profit being made, I'm just playing.
RATING: R and in future parts *MAY* contain **M/M and F/F SLASH** references. I'm not sure yet, but best to be warned.
PAIRING: X/Anya and S/D
SPOILERS: This takes place a week after 'Where the Wild Things Are,' and breaks from canon from that.
SUMMARY: Xander and Anya find themselves stuck in a small situation.
*****
With every second that ticked by on his Scooby watch, with every minute that passed by and stretched the day a little longer and made the heat in the enclosed space stifle him even more, Xander mentally kicked himself and physically knocked his head against the sides of the space more and more.
I mean honestly, just what in the Hell had he been thinking?
"You know An, maybe you should learn to drive? You wouldn't believe how much it helps you to get around."
Stupid moron that he was, he'd actually thought that with her whole, 'woman make home and man make money to buy pretty things for woman' kick, she'd say no.
Instead, she'd jumped at the chance.
"Can we use your strange uncle with the feathered hair's car?"
Cringe.
"Yeah An, we can use my....*Uncle Rory's* car." Complete with his own cute patented hand gestures. And would you believe it? They passed *right* over Anya's head. Well, thank you so very much.
Now asking her had been a mistake in and of itself. Taking her in his car.... HIS.... damn it HIS car was Xander Harris' dumb mistake numero deux.
Well look at that, some of the French he'd learned in high school *had* actually seeped into his brain. Pity it was only a number that kids at the *age* of deux could easily learn faster than him. Because hey, if Alexander LaVelle Harris could really learn fast, he never, *never* would have let things even begin to head in this direction, let alone have them sitting smack bang in the middle of the fucking damn thing.
He shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, and bumped himself up against Anya.
"Xander, stop it! You're taking up all the room!"
And so he ground his teeth together as he tried unsuccessfully to move over to the other millimetre of space in the small car trunk, praying that there would actually be enough air back there to last him, until the fucker in the front with the radio blaring decided to finally pull over so they could yell for help.
Would you believe it? They'd gotten carjacked, with them in the car, because Anya had picked up a hitch-hiker while he was busy. Getting a soda. Which the fucker in the front had happily divested him of, with a wink and a "Cheers!" before his head had been knocked up against the side of the car and he woke up in this enclosed coffin like space, with Anya's equally unconscious body next to him.
How could things possibly get worse you ask?
Anya came to.
Not that he wanted to diss Anya, because she was his girlfriend, and he loved her as much as he knew how, but come on. Everybody has their limits.
In this pseudo coffin with darkness so infinite you couldn't even see your own hand when it was in front of your face, Anya had so far managed to calmly bulldoze through his limits and set herself up a quaint little bed and breakfast home a good couple of miles past his temper switch. The only thing currently stopping him from grabbing her by her neck and throttling her, was the fact that he'd moved away from her a few seconds ago, and now couldn't find her.
Okay, so he was really close and could probably easily find her neck if he wanted to, but cut him some slack. It was really dark in here, and that just skewed his perception so completely that he knew if he reached over, he'd accidentally grab a breast or something instead of her neck, and then he'd have to endure her screeching about him wanting to cop a feel while they were being kidnapped.
Like he *really* didn't have more important things to think about....
Okay, he won't answer that....and he'll stay right away from Anya.
"Xander, can't you get him to lower the music?"
He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue in her face's general direction, glad she couldn't see him. "Sure An, just let me knock here on the roof and ask the polite kidnapper to lower the music so you don't go deaf."
A distinctly unladylike snort came from Anya, and then her dry voice replied, "You know, you don't have to be so rude and sarcastic. I mean, this is all your fault. You should really take responsibility for your own actions instead of throwing them onto somebody else's unsuspecting shoulders."
Xander's eyes bulged out of his head in the darkness, and he felt himself choking on his own saliva that had dribbled down the wrong pipe from shock. "Gaaahhh..... ahhhhhh..... aaaaaaeeexcuse me? It's *my* fault? Who picked up the damn hitch-hiker here Anya? Not me!"
He heard her huff from less than a foot away, her warm breath tickling his cheek and neck.
"Well, if you'd been in the car, then none of this would have happened. But you men always think with your stomach's. You just *had* to go to a convenience store didn't you. I mean honestly, between continually stalling your car and then almost running it into a metal pylon, what could have possibly given you the idea that I know the etiquette of driving?" He could feel her roll her eyes and glare in his direction, even though he couldn't see it.
It was coming....it was coming....give it time....
"Men never change."
He shoots, he scores! The crowd goes wild! And now is so not the time to start thinking of his sports fantasies.
He shifts again in the trunk, his body starting to go numb from being cramped in such a small space, and his eyes are still slightly runny and irritated from the smoke that had been blown in them.
Lousy fucker in the front seat just had to be a smoker didn't he? No doubt he was having a blast up front in *Xander's car,* singing along to the loud music, raising Hell on his poor, tortured speedometer, tossing the ash from his stick thin cigarettes all over his squeaky clean seats and carpet....oh yeah, Xander really *didn't* like smokers.
Especially one smoker in particular, who was probably planning his and Anya's demise right this very second.
Damn! How stupid could they all be?
They'd all just gotten so used to the bleached idiot being around.
Why hadn't anybody told them that Spike had gotten the chip out?
End.