Boxed.
Andrew/ Xander
Rated PG 13.
Originally written for the Buffyverse1000, but it was too long and unfocused.
Owned by Joss Whedon. Set after Chosen.
… … …
When Xander had first arrived at the Watcher's Council in England he thought 'wow.' The house wasn't large, not given the number people it housed, but the rooms were, and building was well built.
After two days Xander began to really appreciate the grounds. These, too, were relatively small, for the number of the people and the size of the house. But there was a small copse. None of the new Slayers ever went there because it was too tame.
After three weeks he had built his own little cabin out there. It was summer, so the air was fine, and the density of the trees kept enough of the rain out that his 'roof' didn't fall down.
Come October it was beginning to get cold again. And at night, especially, the little box he'd constructed over the past few months was almost too cold to sleep in. But Xander didn't really want to leave.
The door faces north, so he got light without direct sun. The roof is more solid that it was, so even with the falling foliage, the roof is sound. Giles let him raid the cellar when the arrived, and the walls are now three layers of packing crate. It was warm enough.
The inside of the box he lives in is even better. He had a hurricane lamp it only took him four days to learn to use, a double bed mattress and a tarp so it didn't get damp. He also had two photos of Anya.
When the first snows fell in November he had to leave. There was no way of walking out through the snow in the evening and getting into his bed without getting the sheets wet.
The third night after the first fall came the second and Xander began to take his house apart enough to get the mattress out. He dragged into the front sitting room and tucked it behind the green couch. There was just enough room there for him to sleep without disturbing or being disturbed by anyone else in the room.
The room was used mostly for official audiences, as Giles called them. He agreed to Xander using the room because he didn't snore, the mattress could be hidden, and there were sometimes as many as twenty other people living in the second storey.
The Slayers weren't actually allowed in the front sitting without supervision, and so Xander was able to avoid most people most of the time. He still ate with everyone, and Slayers regarded him as less of a wild-man now that he had access to a television, albeit a small one which ghosted.
The person he saw most often was Andrew, who seemed to feel as starved of male company as Xander had felt, first when Oz left, and then Riley. The Slayers had claimed the television in the cellar, and watched a diet of chick-flicks. Andrew on the other hand, had every episode of Star Trek on DVD and laptop adaptation plug.
…
By December, Xander had begun sleeping on the couch. It was further off the floor, which didn't have the wall-to-wall carpeting that all the other rooms had. And, although not as long as the mattress, it was long enough for him.
Christmas arrived. Xander saw several things he would have liked to have been able to consider for Anya when he was shopping for Buffy, Dawn and Willow. He found a desk model thing for Giles, who seemed pleased to receive something other than a book or a weapon.
It turned out that Andrew was the most difficult to buy for. There were too many things he might like, but Xander wasn't sure. They had spent hours together saying 'I like this part,' or 'no, that only makes sense, because,' but they hadn't spoken, ever or at all.
In the end Xander chose a book on writing literary non-fiction for Andrew, who hadn't given up the idea of recording the adventures of the Slayers of Vampyres. Although he had stopped saying Vampyre.
Christmas day became a blur of people, and days afterwards a blur of comings and goings. Xander felt the world returning to normal with New Year. He was excused from the party, and spent the day re-watching the Original Series.
Andrew joined him at sixteen minutes past twelve, in time for his favourite episode and complaining once again about the younger Slayers' energy.
"You should have seen Buffy had cheerleader practice," Xander said. "Although she was under the influence of some sort of spell at the time."
"When everything was easy and nice," Andrew murmured. He thought he might remember Buffy's cheerleading. It probably had something to do with that girl who burst into flames.
"Hey," Xander said sharply. "My best friend was killed by vampires, and then I had to stake him."
"You should tell me," Andrew said. He pushed himself back against the cushions of Xander's couch.
Xander blinked. He was sure the movement was unconscious, not an effected interviews response. And Andrew's voice had been quiet, like he wanted Xander to speak more than he wanted to hear the stories himself. So Xander spoke.
New Year's Day is always slow, because no one has slept. Andrew had stayed still the whole night, and uttered none of his false encouraging comments. Xander had occasionally paced, trying to shock him, or goad, with limited success.
The only lasted until about ten o'clock the following night. Then Andrew stumbled upstairs. But he promised to hear the end of story of Buffy's triumphant and shoe-filled return the following evening. Xander waved him away, too tired to do more than wrap the blanket around himself tuck his head under his arm.
By the middle of January, Andrew was confident enough of the timeline to tell his own stories about Jonathon and Tucker.
On the tenth of February he didn't go back to his room. Xander had finally discovered that Andrew was not one who actually understood what his own body was telling him. He was most of the way into telling Xander about his first unassisted demon raising when he fell asleep.
Xander was already mostly asleep, himself, so simply made sure the blanket could cover them both and laid himself along Andrew's side to sleep. He woke up with a crick neck, cold feet and a whelming realisation that he hadn't been so close to anything so warm as Andrew was in a very long time.
Andrew shuffled in his sleep as Xander began to stretch. He mumbled something in what sounded like Klingon. Xander sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to get off the couch without waking Andrew, so found a more comfortable way to lie against his back and closed his eyes again.
They commemorated the first day of March by moving back onto the double mattress. If they were going to spend the night wrapped around each other, Xander argued, he at least wanted warm feet.