Xander was used to getting weird looks. Came with the territory. You couldn't expect to walk around with an eye patch and a mother of a scar running across your lip without getting some looks. The receptions were varied – some people tried to stay out of his way, thought the scars indicated a tough guy looking for a fight. Some politely kept their distance, pointedly ignored the scars and treated him with a detached, practiced indifference. Others got too close, eyes raking his body like a new piece of meat. Xander wasn't sure which reaction he should be more bothered by.
However, he hadn't quite expected the barefaced stares and whispers amongst the rest of the staff when his new boss introduced him to the group in a meeting a few hours before the club opened. Some of them didn't even bother to whisper.
"… fucking old. He's what? Twenty seven? Thirty? With a fucking eye-patch?" one of the dancers was saying to another, slouching in his chair, legs splayed, ignoring the muttered warning of his friend who had noticed Xander watching them intently, "What? We going for a 'pirates' theme now? This place is going to the fucking do …"
"Hey, kid," Xander interjected calmly, hushing the room instantly. "Piece of advise: wait 'till your balls drop before you start insulting the grown ups," he said, raising an eyebrow. Seemed to do the trick. Several of the others laughed and the kid seemed suitably embarrassed. His new boss, who he still didn't know the name of as the guy had stuttered something that he couldn't understand, called the meeting to a close and he was introduced the other bar tender.
"You'll fit in fine. Name's Andy. You've just passed the first initiation rite, teaching that little shit to keep his trap shut," he added, holding out a hand. Xander smiled and shook it.
"Alex. Any more rites of passage I should know about?" he asked.
"Well, you're new in town so it won't take long for Brian Kinney to grab your ass. He's our local Sex God Extraordinaire," Andy replied, a dreamy look on his face.
"He'll have to just wonder about this particular ass. I don't fuck customers," Xander said coolly, because, yeah, he's really cool now. Relatively.
"Oh darling, you don't fuck Brian Kinney,Brian Kinney fucks you!" someone called, causing an eruption of laughter.
"Either way, no can do. My boyfriend is a … possessive sort of guy," Xander said, forcing himself to smile and chanting a comforting mantra in his head : I hate Spike, I hate Spike, I hate Spike …
"How long have you been together?" Andy asked, looking a little bit disappointed. Xander scratched the back of his neck, looked into the air, pretended to be counting in his head.
"Spike and me? 'Bout 12 years now," he said. Andy blinked. Opened his mouth. Blinked some more.
"Fuck," he said finally. "I didn't know that was possible. You've been exclusive the whole time?" he asked, looking at Xander as though he had grown a second head.
"Pretty much. When you see him, you'll know why," Xander said with a lopsided grin, pushing his too long hair from his face. I hate Spike, I hate Sp …
"So, uh, the eye-patch. That a statement or, uh …" Andy said vaguely, gesturing to his face. Xander smirked, and it was real this time.
"Nope," he said, fighting the temptation to flip it up and let Andy see his sunken eyelid to stop the question that was still to come.
"How did you lose it … if you don't mind me asking?" Xander wondered which of the many explanations for his missing eye he should chose. Once he'd implicated Spike and as fun as it was to see the vampire being dragged by cops, the paperwork that followed had been a bitch.
"Let's just say, when a homophobic asshole says 'let's fight like men. No weapons'... he's lying," Xander shrugged running his hand over his lip for emphasis. The truth behind the lip was a nasty run in with an irate chaos wizard.
"Jesus. Fucking pricks," Andy said disgustedly, shaking his head.
"I don't wear a glass eye because they're uncomfortable," Xander added, cutting off the next question before it was posed to him. It was the first truthful answer he'd given so far. Andy shrugged,
"Whatever, dude. I think it works for you," he said, nodding towards Xander's selected outfit. Tight black jeans and tighter black sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscled arms and the small tattoo on his shoulder blade that showed a said in beautiful Victorian script : Spike's– it was really a glamour spell. "You weren't kidding when you said he was possessive, huh?" Andy laughed, nodding towards the tattoo. Xander shrugged,
"Spike belongs to me and I belong to him. Things are simpler that way," he said with practice ease, running his hands over the smooth marble surface of the bar.
"We going to meet this 'Spike' anytime soon?" Andy asked eagerly, tossing Xander a wet cloth to wipe the surface of the bar with.
"He'll be coming tonight after work, if he can," Xander grit his teeth, I hate Spike, I hate Spike, I hate Spike … "Let's get started then. Where is the hard liquor?" He asked, abruptly steering the conversation to something he didn't have to think about.
That was the Harris way. Don't like a conversation? Ask where they keep the booze.
To Be Continued