Title: These Nights

Author: Mantis St. Mantis

Pairing: Xander/Andrew

Summary: What if Andrew had joined the Scoobies a long time ago?

Warnings: The boys are both in high school at this point. If you have issues with that . . . cast ‘em aside for a min, ‘cause this story is really cute.

Dedications: This is for ListmumKatie for allowing Karen and I to gush over our vacation plans on-list. Thanks, as always, to the stellar betas!

Author’s note: I’ve been listening to The Smiths non-stop for several days, and for some reason I find their music to be very romantic. So this is what it caused me to write. Also, on the Inner Geekdom site, there is a challenge about writing a story in which Tucker isn’t crazy or mean. I kept that in mind as I was writing this. One more thing, I tinkered with canon a little. I had to. Don’t worry, nothing major. This story is very much about Andrew and Xander, so everyone else is in the background anyway.

Patrol had been particularly tedious that night. Andrew had almost gotten himself killed–TWICE. Xander was doing his best to protect him, but he was getting a little exasperated at having the most accident-prone boyfriend in the history of the world. After he had almost gotten slashed to ribbons with the claws of their demon target, Buffy herself stepped in.

"Xander, take your boy toy home before we have to sweep him into a pasta bowl."

"Hey! I can fight just as–," Andrew tried to protest. He was stopped by Xander clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Will do, Buff. See you at school tomorrow."

"You could have stuck up for me, you know," Andrew pouted on the way home.

"I suppose I could have. But you know how she gets in the middle of a good slay-session. Arguing wasn’t exactly our best option right then. Best to get out of the way. Besides, maybe we could have a little slay session of our own," he explained with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Andrew tried not to laugh, but he lost in the end. "Ooh baby, I love it when you talk dirty."

Xander just smiled and squeezed his hand. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours? I . . . I don’t wanna be around my family at all. Just you."

"Like I wanna be around mine?" Xander shot back.

"Well, no. But yours are less inquisitive. No, ‘Hey, why’s that guy here again?’ or ‘How’d you get that lively bruise?’" Andrew explained.

"That’s true. With any luck, they’ll have drifted off by now. It’ll be sort of like having the house to ourselves."

Upon their arrival, Xander did a thorough check of Andrew’s body to make sure he wasn’t seriously injured anywhere. Everything was fine, so they climbed into bed. This was not something new. They often bunked together after a long fight. And of course there were the usual kisses and gropings, but there was something different about that night. It was a general feeling, and they knew– in that way that people know things without being able to pinpoint them– that something was different about it.

And there was. That night, they made love for the first time. It was wild and passionate and hot. There was an abandon in Andrew that Xander never knew existed. When Xander was on top of him, spread out and covering that lithe form completely, Andrew had his head thrown back. His brow was furrowed, and he looked like he was concentrating VERY hard on the serious process of getting fucked. A thin gloss of sweat covered his forehead. Each time Xander thrust into him, he emitted faint groans and whispers. Each one sent Xander spiraling out of control, causing him to thrust harder and the moans become more intense. He worried briefly that they would wake the neighbors, or possibly the people down the street, but then Andrew flexed around his cock and he could no longer form coherent thoughts. He looked at the pale face below him and saw a tiny smile flicker across Andrew’s face. Then his brow creased again and he resumed that slightly pained expression. It was beautiful, and Xander couldn’t resist bringing his mouth to the lines and kissing them. He tasted the salty sweet dampness of the boy’s forehead and hungered for more. Kissing a line down the center of Andrew’s face, he stopped at the pursed lips and coaxed his mouth open. Biting and sucking the lower lip, the tongue, even the rough chin, kept stirring them both into an inescapable frenzy.

He stopped the pumping of his hips for a brief moment, and just let himself feel the exquisite tightness enveloping him. He could never have anticipated how wonderful Andrew would feel literally from the inside out. "You feel so nice," he panted. It was the most coherent thought he’d had all evening.

"I’m . . . unh . . . flattered. But keep. Going," Andrew commanded through gritted teeth.

Xander laughed at Andrew’s frustration and strained to reach the night stand. He plucked the lube off it, and squirted some into his hand. Without bothering to warm it up, he stroked Andrew’s cock. The gasp that he emitted made Xander even harder, if that was at all possible.

"You’re so beautiful when you fuck," Xander grunted as he resumed his fevered pumping. Since he was beyond all point of speaking, Andrew just dug his fingernails into Xander’s back. They were blunt and Xander knew that they wouldn’t leave scratch marks, but angry, bruised-looking lines were likely. That was fine for him, because he knew that he needed a physical reminder of what happened. Andrew would have one when he tried to sit down the next day. Xander needed one, too.

Xander added the rapid pumping of his hand to the rapid pumping of his cock. That appeared to be the last straw with Andrew, and his cock was soon shuddering and begging for release. Grinding his teeth together, he managed to sputter, "Gonna finish. Oh God, Xander, so incredibly–" He groaned and it was over. Seeing the look on Andrew’s face-- the concentration, the sheer sweaty joy– sent Xander over the edge himself, and he came quickly after, shuddering.

After months of timid exploration and discussion, wanting, and near-hits, here they were. Xander still pressed inside him, Andrew’s spunk coating hands and stomachs. Both were droopy-eyed and tired.

"That was . . . you were . . . we needed that," concluded Andrew.

"Oh yes. You really are beautiful when you fuck," Xander told him again.

Already flushed, Andrew’s color deepened. "Only girls are beautiful. I’m . . . I’m not."

Xander moved so that he was on his elbow, but still sheltering. "You are beautiful, though. To me, anyway." He pushed a hand through the short, blond hair and watched the spikes form in the sweat-covered tendrils. He didn’t know what it was, but he was feeling oddly romantic. He hoped no spell was afoot. However, once he thought about it, he knew that this was all the truth. He did find Andrew beautiful, and he had enjoyed this evening– well, the parts AFTER the demon-fighting. It still amazed him to no end when he considered where they had started . . .

Flashback: Sunnydale High School, home of the razorbacks, six months ago. Buffy and the gang were busy trying to find a way to re-soul Angel. Hours and hours spent researching and coming up with nothing. Frustration, fear– it sucked big time. Then one day, this boy waltzed into the library in the middle of one of their research sessions. Xander had seen him around school, but never really registered the kid’s presence. Until that day. He walked in, and just jumped in the conversation as if he’d been there from day one, like Xander had, fighting and learning with them.

"You’ll need an Orb of Thessula for that. My mom has one. I gave her one, ‘cause you never know, but she uses it as a paper-weight."

"And who the hell are you?" Buffy demanded, ready to kick some skinny ass.

"I’m Andrew, and I’m an amateur dabbler in the Black Arts," he informed them. "So, do you have the aforementioned orb? Huh?"

"W-well, yes, we do," stammered Giles. "But really, this is very serious business here and I don’t think you should be here right now."

"Okay, doofball, this is the school library. And as I am a student at this school, I should be here. Look, I’ve been watching you guys for the past year. Freshmen see everything, okay? I know what you guys do, and I know things are pretty hairy right now. I also have a fool-proof spell stashed away that will restore whoever’s soul."

So this Andrew sat down with them and jumped right into the world-avenging fray. At first, the group tried to get rid of him. They didn’t trust him. But he did come through with that spell (which he’d stolen from Miss Calendar) and he did help them get Angel back. That was all he needed to do to prove himself.

Xander had to admit that he was one of the strongest naysayers at first. He protested that Andrew was too skinny to fight, too annoying to hang around, and too clingy to live. Once it became glaringly apparent that Andrew had a slight crush on him, that was it. He was done. The kid had to go. What he hadn’t admitted to anyone else was that the real reason he disliked Andrew having a crush on him was that he was forming a crush back. And even worse than having a crush on a guy was having a crush on a freshman. He was barely able to maintain his girl-loving image, and Cordelia was heavily starting to notice.

"Oh, I get it," she said one day during an argument. "This is all about Andrew. You have a big creepy loserish crush on him. Well, it figures, doesn’t it? I’m glad I haven’t been going out with you long enough for people to know because getting dumped for Night of the Living Geek is positively THE worst event of my life. Aside from going out with you in the first place!"

"Cordy, I don’t– there’s nothing–," he tried to explain. It did no good, though. She knew and there was no way to really make it right.

And that was how he came to end things with Cordelia. She had been right about Andrew, of course. She was oddly supportive, and even kept it under wraps to the rest of the gang until he and Andrew were ready to tell the rest of the group. It was scary, but Xander did it. He went out with a guy. And it wasn’t even that he was gay, or whatever. Though he knew that was a part of it. It was more about Andrew than guys in general. He didn’t care all that much that Andrew was a guy. He had learned that love, or even a few good make-out sessions, come from the most unlikely sources. Death was around every headstone and in every dark alley for him. Working with Buffy taught him that much. So when Andrew showed interest, and when he started to feel it, he just took it and ran.

Sometimes, they were like a regular couple. They would go to the movies and sit in the darkest corner of the theater and make out when things got boring. They would hang out in the park (always during the day time to avoid any run-ins with the undead or any of Sunnydale’s other unsavory denizens). Most times, though, their dates were spent fighting the aforementioned monsters and demons. But it didn’t matter what they did, because– cliche as it may sound– the important thing was that they were together. Looking out for each other and making sure that all cuts and scrapes were kissed better and sprayed with Bactine. And after Xander had started dating Andrew, sometimes he would defect from the research sessions and do some research of his own. See, for some reason, Giles also had a decent collection of homoerotic books in the library. So Xander liked to wander up the stairs and read them while everyone else averted the Apocalypse. After a while, he noticed some running themes in those books: self loathing, death, depression, and secretiveness. He understood the secretiveness. He knew that walking down the halls of Sunnydale High holding Andrew’s hand would invite a barrage of comments that he just did not need. But all that pain and hate? Nah. So he was attracted to a guy. Xander still liked girls. It just so happened that he also liked Andrew. Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t too much of a stretch. Not that he had come to this realization lightly. No one ever does. But the important thing was that he had come to this realization with only minor mental scrapes and bruises. No drug addiction, no suicide attempts.

His circle of friends were cool with it, too. He knew that at first, they weren’t crazy about his choice of this particular guy, but Andrew grew on them and was accepted into the fold soon enough. Now, everyone else knew that wherever one was, the other was around. It stopped there, though. No one else knew and no one else cared. That was okay with Xander; he liked having a little secret life all to himself. Like a superhero.

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Shortly after that night, that crazy explosive night when they cemented whatever it was they had, yet another demon clan decided it was time to stir up the Sunnydale pot. They were oozy demons, the sort with bodily secretions seeping out from every available surface. Xander didn’t bother to learn the name; he just wanted them out of town before they did whatever they were planning on doing. Further research determined that with a simple spell and some straight-forward street fighting, the demons would get pushed back into their own dimensions. It was easy enough, and Xander was grateful for it. Since that night, he had been looking forward to a repeat, and he could tell from Andrew’s increased usage of innuendo that the feeling was mutual. So naturally he was pretty well excited when Buffy told them that she was off to fight and they were to stay on the homestead and protect the crops.

"This one’s not that big, guys. Angel and I are going to go it alone," Buffy told them.

"Buffy, you’ll still need back up. I know we don’t have super-strength or fangs or anything, but we can still fight pretty well. Or . . . at least we make good cheerleaders for you," Willow tried to tell her.

"I appreciate it, but no. I won’t be able to kick ass as well as I need to if I have to worry about you guys. Giles will be there to do the spell, Angel will back me up in the ass-kicking department, and I will work on scoring one more for the good guys." Her voice was firm, and they all knew that resistance was futile. Fine with Xander– he and Andrew usually just got horribly in the way.

"Great! I’ve got a new cookie recipe to try out. You wanna come over for a post-fight snack?" Andrew offered. Buffy just smiled that smile she reserved only for him– part annoyance, part pity, and a lot of "Aww, isn’t he cute?"

"Depends. Will they have peanut butter?"

"Yep. And oatmeal."

"Ooh, I’ll take two," Buffy affirmed.

"Well, kids, the time is nigh for Buffy to fulfill her sacred duties, blah blah. So . . . can the rest of us split?" Xander asked. Sometimes, he didn’t bother trying to be subtle. He usually sank when he did that.

She smiled. "Yes, you may go. As long as I have some fresh Andrew-cookies waiting for me when I’m done."

Xander stood up and offered his arm cordially to Andrew. "M’lady? Need help baking?"

Andrew looked horrified. "Xanderrr, what’d I tell you about calling me that?"

"I know. I’ve been instructed not to. But . . . sometimes, I just get the urge. Like when–"

"Boys!" Willow interjected.

"Right. We’re gone," Xander responded with haste.

They walked out of the library arm-in-arm bantering all the way. On the walk to Andrew’s house, they only encountered one vampire, who was apparently very stupid. The sun wasn’t completely down, and he burst into flames the second he pounced out from the shadow of a building into the final rays of sun.

"Well, that was easy," commented Andrew.

"Andrew, honey, is that you?" trilled Mrs. Wells as they entered Andrew’s house.

"No, Mom. It’s a crazed ax murderer," Andrew replied dryly.

"That’s not funny," she scolded. She appeared on the stairs and faltered when she saw Xander. "Oh, Xander’s with you again," she stated. Not distastefully, per se, but she would probably have been more excited to see someone slightly more female.

"Hi Mrs. Wells," Xander said. He knew why she wasn’t always happy to see him, so he tried his best to be as nice as possible whenever he was over there. At least at the end of the day, Mrs. Wells could suspect whatever she wanted, but she could never accuse Xander of being impolite.

"We’re gonna bake cookies for Buffy," Andrew told her and skipped (literally) off to the kitchen. His approach to his mother’s concern was a little more cavalier.

She cornered Xander in the hallway and bombarded him with questions about homework and Andrew and drugs and Xander’s opinion on the weather. It was a brutal two minutes, but he performed under pressure. Satisfied that her son wasn’t friends with a complete idiot, Mrs. Wells backed off and trotted up the stairs to finish her quilt.

"Your mom should work for the police department," Xander started to tell Andrew as he made his way to join him in the kitchen. He stopped when he saw them. "Andrew!" he exclaimed.

"That is the cutest thing I have ever seen!" Xander seemed to forget his manly visage for a moment to gush.

"What? These?" Andrew asked, pointing one mitted hand at the other. "They’re just oven mitts."

"No! They’re CUTE oven mitts!"

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Keep it down, man. The last thing I need is Tucker overhearing you– a guy– mooning over my stupid oven mitts."

"Right. Shh," Xander reminded himself. He couldn’t help but giggle over how darn cute his boyfriend looked when he baked, though. He sat at the counter for about a minute, fidgeting and trying to keep the innuendo to a minimum. But it was difficult when Andrew stood there with flour on his nose looking puzzled about his cookie recipe. "Andrew, you have a little . . ." Xander reached across the counter and brushed the flour away. He couldn’t resist letting his finger trail down to Andrew’s lips, tracing them.

"Hey!" Andrew protested.

Xander leaned forward. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

Andrew leaned forward, too, and got right close to Xander’s face. Positively leering, he said, "I might do this." Bit Xander’s lip. "Or this." Dragged his tongue across Xander’s throat.

"You bit me! Do I have to stake you now?" Xander asked, playful.

"Ha ha . . . yes, with your big wooden stake," Andrew commanded with pure debauchery in his voice.

They were too busy bantering to hear footsteps in the kitchen.

"Well, doesn’t this explain everything?" Tucker announced. Xander and Andrew sprung apart in surprise, but it was a little late. Tucker sauntered further into the kitchen and sat down next to Xander. "I always wondered why a junior, even one who is slightly farther down the popularity scale, would want to hang out so much with a freshman. At first, I figured he was just doing your homework for you. But then it seemed like you actually liked coming over here. Now I get it."

They didn’t really know what to do. Tucker didn’t sound too threatening, but he didn’t sound particularly nice either. He was hard to read.

"Oh, don’t worry Andy-poo. I won’t tell Mom or Dad. I won’t even blackmail you for it. It’s cool."

And with that, Tucker was gone. Xander and Andrew just looked at each other, amazed.

"Wow. That was weird. I think– well, I should maybe go. But if you need me here . . . if things are gonna get weird or something . . ."

"No, stay. I don’t think things are ‘gonna get weird’, but I– I want you to stay. I’m making cookies, remember?" Andrew offered, hopeful.

"Well, I do love the Andrew cookies. In so many ways."

So they chatted, and Andrew baked. Tucker was upstairs somewhere. He didn’t bother them. Buffy called to tell them that the fight was hard, she won, and she was just going to go home, but she expected some cookies the next day. It was as normal as an afternoon in Sunnydale could get. You know, except for the part about their friends killing demons and the strange smells coming from upstairs that were not indicative of any sort of earthly chemistry. After Xander left, Andrew knew it was time to launch into a conversation with Tucker.

He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. The grunt from inside sort of sounded like a "come in", so he went in. Tucker looked up from his suspicious-smelling chemistry work, surprised.

"Hey," Andrew said. Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, he looked like he was about to run out of the room and possibly the entire house.

"Hey yourself, little guy," Tucker replied, his surprise fading to amusement.

"What’d I tell you about calling me that?"

"I know. So what’s up?"

"Well, earlier– I just– how could I have just told you? I mean, you already think I’m a big spaz," Andrew attempted to explain.

"Shut the door and sit down," Tucker told him as he put away his little project. Andrew could count on one hand how many serious conversations he had had with his brother throughout his life. It was always unsettling to have them, but they always ended up well in the end. He got along with Tucker, but sometimes it felt like they were just boarders in the same rooming house rather than siblings. "Okay, you’re right. I do think you’re a spaz. But I also think you’re really smart and entertaining as hell. You think it took me seeing you kiss a guy to know that you’re gay? C’mon. Remember when I was in 8^th grade– you must have been in 6^th– and I got suspended for shoving Devon so hard that he cracked the glass in that window?"

Andrew chuckled. "I think everyone remembers that. It was cool."

"Yeah, well, what no one ever heard about was that I did it because he made fun of the way you walked."

"Oh. Well that seems a little ironic. He’s a total fembot."

"Yeah, he is. But the point is that I knew there was something to what he was saying. And I knew that meant that things were always gonna be kind of hard for you. Well, even harder than if you were just a regular geek."

Tears perched dangerously in Andrew’s eyes.

"Hey! Hey. This is already too Hallmark moment for me," Tucker admonished. "Don’t turn on the waterworks for it."

Andrew cracked a smile. "Well, um, thanks."

"So if I never said anything to the parents before, why would I go and do it now?"

"Well, see, the thing is I– well, let’s just say I like Xander a lot. The way that Mary Jane liked Spiderman. And I know that even if we all get killed by va– vacuum um, never mind. Anyway, I’ll always be gay. So Mom and Dad should know."

"That’s a tough one. I don’t know what to tell you on that front. Other than ‘don’t rush’. I’m not really qualified, y’know?"

"Fair enough. I think we’re done with the serious talkin’, anyway," Andrew said. He got up and walked toward the door. "Thanks."

"Anytime, dude."

Andrew headed to his room, an odd feeling of peace pervading him. He lay on his bed and curled up, happy thoughts of Xander lulling him to sleep. Had he known what was going on across town, he might not have been as calm . . .