When We Last Met
chapter three
 

"Er, hey."  Xander concentrated on not dropping his
books.  Imagine this, he
told himself.  Standing in a university hall, holding
onto college-level
textbooks, staring at a teaching assistant.  His
teaching assistant.
Looking almost as real as he did in Xander's dreams.

He tried harder not to drop his books, and re-thought
his decision to go to
his first ju-jitsu class tomorrow.  Maybe if he bought
a jockstrap to hold
everything down....

"Hey.  You here about the quiz?"  Graham stood up from
where he'd been
sitting at his desk, both of them ignoring the glances
sent their way from
the other TAs in the office.  Five desks sharing one
room, Xander wasn't
sure if he were glad the other TAs were here to give
him the safety of not
having to think of something clever to say beyond
"Yeah, the quiz" -- or
wishing they'd all go, so he could say something
clever, should he think of
it.

Willow had given him a list of conversational opening
lines, but they hadn't
ever worked when he was ten, or fourteen, so he
doubted they'd work now.  It
suddenly occurred to him that back then she'd been
*hoping* his
conversational gambits would fail.  Had she sabotaged
him by feeding him
dumb lines?

"Sit down over here," Graham was saying, and it
sounded a little loud, a
little formal -- as though Graham was saying one thing
and thinking another.
The interruption into his thoughts saved Xander from
deciding if he should
be mad at Willow, or glad she'd liked him that much.
He sat down beside
Graham's desk and set his books on the corner.  He
glanced around the room
again -- the other grad students were no longer paying
them any attention.
One was reading, another looked to be grading papers.
The third was staring
out the window.

He was probably working.

"So, do you have any questions?"

Xander turned to Graham, and had to blink a couple
times to figure out if
he'd zoned out of part of the conversation.  Had he
used any of Willow's
lines?  "Um, not sure.  I got most of the questions
right...."

Graham nodded, seriously, and said, "But you wanted to
know why you got
number three wrong?" It sounded weird, again.  Like he
was reading from a
script.

Xander kept a smile off his face, and shook his head.
"I know why I got
number three wrong.  What I don't get is how I got the
others right."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I don't mean I cheated.  A friend helped me
study, though, and
she..well... she *said* I knew this stuff.  Only I
don't think I have a clue
what I'm doing."

Graham was narrowing his eyes slightly, looking at
Xander as though he
weren't completely sure Xander was human.  Or sober.

Xander decided he'd better try something else before
he just blurted out
'Can I buy you a drink, soldier?'  "What *was* the
answer to number three?"

There was a moment when Graham didn't move, didn't
respond. Just stared at
Xander measuringly, before he pulled out his own
textbook and flipped it
open.  Xander scooted forward so he could read over
Graham's arm, rather
than dig out his own book.  Graham glanced his way,
but didn't say anything,
other than to point out a passage and begin
explaining.

For the next fifteen minutes Xander listened to Graham
lecture.  It was
fascinating, in an abstract, don't really have to
listen sort of way.  He
alternated between looking at the book as Graham
pointed out passages, and
watching Graham talk.

The presence of the other graduate students confined
his contributions to
the conversation to "what page is that, again?" and
"didn't we learn about
that guy in the last lecture?"

Graham didn't seem to mind.  He kept talking about
history, teaching Xander
the stuff he'd missed by spending the lectures all
last week sitting in his
seat and staring at his TA.  Not that he'd stared the
*entire* time.  But
he'd maybe spent more time looking, than not.  Graham
was interesting to
watch, at any rate.  Whether he was sitting in a chair
looking bored as he
heard the same intro-level lecture for the hundredth
time, or sitting in a
chair repeating facts and figures for the hundredth
time to yet another
freshman, or sitting in a chair saying "Are you
getting any of this?"

Xander blinked.  "Um, yeah.  I am -- really.  I guess
I shoulda been writing
it down?"  He guiltily began digging through his
stuff, wondering if he even
*had* paper and pens with him.

"Not if you can remember it," Graham said.

"Like I said, I should be writing this down."  He
continued to dig, then
stopped as he found Graham holding out a pen.  "Um,
thanks.  Do you--
Thanks," he said again, as Graham held out a piece of
notebook paper.  "I
guess I'm not really prepared for this college stuff."

"You started a couple weeks late."

"Yeah.  Um, yeah."  He couldn't remember the cover
story Willow had
concocted for him.  Something clever and fully
provable, he was sure.
Graham was looking at him, the barest hint of a smile
on his face.  It made
Xander want to grin back at him.  Instead he glanced
over at the other
graduate students.  Still reading, grading, and
staring.  "I'm still getting
into the swing of things."

"If you need more help, you know you're always welcome
to come back."

Xander nodded, slowly.  Trying not to read anything
into those words.  TAs
had office hours, *every* student was welcome.  That
had been Willow's whole
reasoning behind getting Xander enrolled in the first
place.  :Um, yeah, I
know.  I mean, thanks.  Yeah, I will."  Suddenly it
was as if his own script
had hit the last page, and he floundered for something
not-stupid, and
not-revealing.  "I think I got it, now, thanks.  I
should go."

He grabbed his stuff and hurried out of the room.  He
didn't hear Graham say
anything, behind him, and he could only hope he hadn't
terminally
embarrassed himself, and ruined his chances of looking
anything like a
number one dork.

He was halfway down the hallway when he realized he
still had Graham's pen.
He pocketed it, thinking at least he had an excuse to
go visit Graham,
again.
 

*******************

"Well?"

Xander looked up as Willow sat down beside him at the
cafeteria table he was
allowed to sit out, now, without mooching.  Willow had
gotten him meal cards
for free, too.  Go, Willow.  "Well, what?"

"Report! It's been two weeks.  When are you two going
out?"

Xander didn't dignify the question with a response.
Mostly because it would
have come out as a stuttered squeak, and Willow would
just get all big-eyes
and 'but Xander, you *have* to!' on him.  He took
another spoonful of
whatever green thing he'd bought, and ate it.  It
really wasn't bad, if you
pretended it was supposed to taste this way.

"Xander?"

"Mm?"  he glanced up, as if he had no idea what she
wanted.

Willow was eyeing him.  Then, "You haven't even asked
him out, have you!"

"Do you mind not yelling it all over the cafeteria?"
He scrunched down over
his tray, in case everyone in the room wanted to look
over and get a glimpse
of the guy who couldn't ask someone out.

"Xander, we went to all that work!"  She frowned.
"You can't just wimp out
on us."

"I'm not wimping!  I'm just...taking my time.  I don't
even know if he's
interested," he said quickly, as though the excuse had
just occurred to him.
It wasn't as though Willow *did* know what Graham's
sexual orientation was,
and this obstacle might buy him some time.

But Willow's frown turned more serious.  "You're right
-- I can't believe we
forgot to check that.  I covered *everything* else,
what was I thinking?"
She shook her head.  "That's OK, we can take care of
that right now."

"We *what*?"

Before Xander could stop her, Willow was standing up,
and yelling.  "Riley!
Buffy, over here!"

Xander groaned, and hid his head in his arms.  "I'm a
dead man.  Thanks,
Willow, love you, too."  He felt her pat his arm.

"There, there, Xander.  It'll all be over, soon, and
you'll be having wild
hot monkey sex with the cute stud-muffin of your
dreams."

He was *so* glad his head was down.  He didn't plan on
raising it anytime
soon.  A year, say, about the time he stopped
blushing.

"Hey, Willow, Xander.  Xander?" he heard Buffy's voice
say.

He didn't look up.  Just said, "Hey, Buffy," towards
the table.

"Is he OK?" Riley asked.

"He's fine.  Ignore him," was the first useful thing
Willow had said all
day.  Then she had to ruin it by saying, "Riley, I
need to ask you
something."

"Whoa! No, nonononononono!"  Xander sat up, wondering
if it would be more
effective to try to stifle Willow, or to simply run.

"No, what?"  Riley gave him a confused look.

"Is this about Graham?" Buffy asked.

"What about Graham?" Riley asked, sounding suspicious.
Then his eyes went
wide.  "You mean *Xander* is the one you snuck into
college because he has a
crush on Graham?"

"It is *not* a crush!" Xander snapped, glaring at him.
"I got over having
crushes when I was fifteen and she turned out to be an
insect."  Then he
blinked, and looked back at each of the three people
staring at him with
annoyingly smug looks on their faces.

Willow smiled.  "See?  So, Riley, I need your help."

"Is this gonna end up embarrassing Graham?" Riley
asked, and Xander was
pleased to hear the tone of voice that said 'because
if it is, no way am I
helping'.

Willow smiled.  "Nope.  If it works, it'll end up with
Graham having lots of
yummy sex."

Xander's head hit the table once more.
 

end chapter three