A/N: I'd like to apologize for the stall on this story and on everything else that I'm writing; between college, a deceased computer, and everything else, I've had no time or energy for fanfiction ... and I beg everyone's forgiveness who reads this story, if any of you are still left with any interest so long after the last update. ;-)

The credits rolled across the screen. The hour, for all its ups and downs, had been delightful. Andrew couldn't ask for anything better.

He could *wish*, sure, but he couldn't ask.

Xander flicked the TV off while the tape rewound. "So," he said.

Andrew smiled nervously at him. "So," he said.

"It's good spending some time away from the girls once in awhile," Xander said.

"Yeah," Andrew said.

"I never realized how long they spent blow-drying their hair," Xander said. "They have to take the bathroom in shifts. I've never seen anything like it."

Andrew nodded.

There was an awkward pause. Andrew didn't want to say anything for fear it would turn out to be something completely stupid.

"What'd you think of the episode?" Xander said, as the tape stopped rewinding.

"I liked it a lot!" Andrew said. "I mean, I didn't think it was exactly their best or anything but it was okay. I liked the guy with the wobbly ear things talking to Trip."

"Wouldn't want to sit next to him on a plane, though," Xander said, chuckling.

"I guess not," Andrew said. He started talking faster as he got more enthusiastic about the conversation, although his gestures were still a dead giveaway to his nerves. "But it was really funny. I like Connor Trineer a lot, his comedy timing is really good. And his jacket was really cool, I want a jacket like that, except I don't know where I would wear it. I guess just around. Although I don't know if it was exactly nice of them, you know, threatening to kill people off that way after what happened with those astronauts."

"Astronauts?" Xander looked confused.

"You know, the ones that died," Andrew said, pulling his legs up onto the couch to hug his knees.

"Oh," Xander said, looking sheepish. "Sometimes I forget things happen outside of Sunnydale."

"Well, that's okay," Andrew said immediately. "I mean, you've got such an awful lot on your mind lately. With, you know, the First. And everything." He felt suddenly inarticulate and blushed as he looked at the floor.

Xander was quiet for a minute. "You're a good kid, Andrew," he said.

"Buffy said I was like an evil sponge," Andrew said, because he had a long memory for strange things. "I guess maybe I'm like a good sponge, too. And I'm around you a lot now so I'm sponging your good." He'd never really thought of it like that. He didn't really think of himself as a *sponge*, exactly. But Xander certainly had plenty of good to go around. And he did want to be like Xander ... especially if that would make Xander like him.

Xander chuckled. "Well, sponging my good or not," he said. "Buffy told me about what happened at the Seal."

Andrew reddened again. "Um," he said. "Yeah."

"And I figured you deserved a break," Xander said.

"I think you do more than me," Andrew said. "I mean, I'm the one who's gonna die."

"What? Get out of here, you're not gonna die," Xander said.

"I think I am," said Andrew. "And ... and I think it's right. After what I did."

"You're not going to die," Xander repeated. "And anyway, even if you were going to die, I don't see why you shouldn't get a break before you did. I don't understand your logic."

"I don't know if I have any," said Andrew. "But like, um, you deserve a break more because you're actually helpful. I'm just the resident evil guy turned chef type person."

"I'm just a glorified carpenter, Andrew," Xander said, shaking his head. "Anyway, I didn't say I didn't deserve a break. After all, it's just us guys tonight, right?"

"Right," Andrew said. "Okay."

"I never realized being surrounded by a crowd of good-looking girls was that bad of a thing, really," Xander said.

"It gets kinda old," Andrew said, nodding.

"But we should probably head back eventually," Xander said. "Who knows what's happening back there, with we sane types away?"

We sane types, thought Andrew.

"I bet it's a mess," Andrew said.

"But we should do this again sometime," Xander said decisiviely, standing up.

Andrew got up and hid his hands in his pockets. "Yeah!" he said, beaming up at Xander. "Yeah, we definitely should."

"Great," Xander said. "Come on, buddy. We'll head back to Chez Buffy."

"Okay," Andrew said. He grinned as he tried out the next, somehow unfamiliar word: "Buddy."

So they were friends and that was all right. Xander would never like him the other way. Xander liked girls and he was probably going to one day get back together with Anya, maybe even marry her, Andrew didn't know. But he did know that Xander was friends with him, even if he did sometimes annoy him, and that Xander wanted him to feel better about Jonathan even though he didn't deserve it.

And that was more than he could possibly have asked for.

Not more than he could wish for, though.

Andrew was good at wishes.

Especially the impossible kind.

FINIS