When We Last Met
chapter five

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So."

"So."

So far the conversation had gone well, Xander thought.
He took another
swallow of his non-alcoholic drink and waited for
inspiration to strike. All
he could think was 'Hello? Non-alcoholic? This is
going to help me relax?'

At least Graham had a real beer.  Maybe *he'd* relax,
and say something.
Otherwise one of the five or seven or possibly all
thirty people in the room
would walk over and say something.  That would be bad.
Not that standing in
the middle of the large room at Lowell House during a
crowded party next to
the man about whom he'd been dreaming about wasn't
already bad.  Every time
he glanced away, he saw another of his friends
pretending to be ignoring
them.  Pretending to be chatting and dancing and
having fun, and not really
staring at Xander and Graham whenever they weren't
paying attention.

"You're not stalking me, are you?"

Xander spent a moment choking on his drink, then tried
shaking his head and
looking as innocent as possible.  He doubted it would
work.  "Stalking you?
Me?  Stalking you?"

"Yeah."  Graham looked perfectly serious, but Xander
could tell, somehow,
that he wasn't.  The way the very corners of his eyes
crinkled, slightly, as
he stared at Xander.  "You're in my class.  You come
to every one of my
office hours.  You're in my jujitsu class.  You play
ball at Boward on
Thursdays.  You've been to every party thrown at
Lowell House this month."
Graham took a drink of his beer.  Xander didn't know
if this was his cue to
deny everything, or if Graham was just getting warmed
up.

"And that makes you think that means I'm stalking
you?" were the words the
came out of his mouth.  He felt like smacking himself
in the forehead -- he
sounded so smooth and in control.  It could only mean
bad things were on the
horizon.  He should run, now, while he had a chance.

"You come to every one of my office hours."

"Um, yeah?  I'm lousy at algebra."

"That's not normal behavior, even for someone lousy at
math.  It's like you
aren't a real student."

Xander opened his mouth to protest, and stopped when
he saw it.  That evil
little gleam in Graham's eyes.  Instead, he said, "And
therefore I'm a
stalker?"

"Jujitsu."

Xander waited for elaboration.  "And...?"  he
prompted.  Maybe they'd
slipped real beer into his bottle?  He was
feeling...good.

"You're too good for a beginner, but you haven't taken
any formal martial
arts training before.  Which means you follow so other
discipline."

He almost said 'slayer-fu'.  But it wasn't real beer,
so Xander was able to
hold his tongue long enough for his reply to be a
neutral one.  "It does,
huh?"

"Unless you're just in it for a new experience,"
Graham continued.  There
was something in his eyes, which made Xander grin.

"Oh, I'm always in it for the experience."  Then he
*really* felt like
smacking himself.  God, he was already flirting.  He
hadn't even convinced
Graham he wasn't a psycho, yet, and he was up to
flirting.  At least Riley
had assured him that Graham wouldn't kill him for it
-- wait, did that mean
Riley had asked Graham if Xander could flirt? Or had
it been a generic
inquiry?  Xander glanced over to where Riley was
pretending to be into
Buffy.  He looked back at Graham, nervously.

"Parties," Graham continued.

"Riley's fault.  He's dating Buffy, so he invites her
friends to the
parties.  Not my fault."

Graham shook his head, but continued down the list.
"Boward."

"Boward.  Basketball on Thursdays."

"You don't play on Sundays, which is an obvious
attempt to make me think you
aren't stalking me."

Xander pointed a finger at him.  "I'll have you know I
work on Sundays.
Otherwise I'd be there, not stalking you.  I'd be
playing basketball."

There was almost a smile on Graham's face, for a
second.  Then he looked
serious, and shook his head.  "You can't play
basketball."

"You noticed?"

"That was the other thing.  That made me decide you
were stalking me."

Xander sighed.  "I didn't mean to, you know.  But my
friends kinda got it
into my head that I'd never get anywhere on my own.  I
didn't *ask* to turn
into Stalker-Boy."

"It's all right," Graham said, in an understanding
tone.  "You should have
seen Riley making sure I was properly dressed for the
party.  I went through
four shirts before he said I could come downstairs."

"It's a nice shirt," Xander allowed.  And it was --
tight, thin material,
stretched across Graham's chest and arms and...no, not
looking down.  'Even
if it's only at his stomach, don't look down.'  He
glanced down, quickly.
Very nice.

"Thanks."  Graham was taking another swallow of his
beer.  Looked like just
about the last one, from the way he titled the bottle
all the way up, and
swallowed.  Lips pressed against the rim of the
bottle, throat working the
last gulp of liquid....  Xander pinched his hand,
hard.

"So it's OK?"

It took Graham a moment of blinking at him, before he
answered.  "Sure.  As
long as you don't start taking photos to blackmail
me."

"Ph-ph-photos?  No way, I'd never-- I don't even own a
camera."  Xander had
to try very hard not to drop his drink.  Flash-image
of Graham, standing on
a mountain trail, somewhere.  Head thrown back,
laughing, while the camera
clicked.  Must have been one of the photos on Riley's
bookcase, Xander
realized.  Less embarrassing than thinking of Graham,
spread-eagled on a
bed, posing....  "Get you another beer?"  he squeaked.

"Sure."  Graham handed him his empty, and Xander
hurried away to the bar,
and tossed the two bottles in the glass bin.  Maybe he
should grab a real
beer, for himself.  Except then he'd say things out
loud, that were so far
still safely trapped in his head.  He turned around to
grab another
non-alcoholic drink, and found someone standing behind
him.

"Um, hello?"  The tall black man stared at him for a
moment, the warning on
his face perfectly clear.  It took Xander a moment to
interpret *exactly*
what the warning said.  Then -- "Geez!  Does
*everybody* know?"

The guy shook his head.  "I'm Graham's roommate."

"You're not gonna give me the shovel lecture, are
you?"  Xander asked,
amazed he'd said it without stammering.

But the guy was just staring at him, whether measuring
Xander for a coffin
or just measuring him, he didn't know.  Wasn't gonna
ask.  Then the guy
shook his head.  "First Riley, now Graham.  Maybe you
should tell me who's
available in your group so I know what's coming."

"There's Spike," Xander heard himself say.  Then he
really did smack himself
on the forehead.  "I'm gonna just go back out there
and try not to continue
sounding like a moron."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Xander hurried away from the bar, and thought for a
moment of losing himself
in the crowd.  Except that he had Graham's beer, and
it really wasn't polite
stalker-behaviour to abandon your victim in mid-party.
He took a deep
breath, wondered why Willow was still pretending to be
more interested in
talking to that blonde girl than keeping an eye on his
progress, and went to
find Graham again.

He found him standing in the same spot, only now there
were three guys there
with him.  Guys from Lowell House, it looked like.
Xander hesitated, then
just walked up behind Graham.  "Here," he said
quietly, handing the bottle
out.

Graham took it with a nod and a "Thanks."

Xander stood there, listening to the guys talking
about somebody named
Chris, and his most recent getting dumped by his girl.
Xander didn't
remember ever being introduced to a Chris, didn't have
a clue who they might
be talking about.

He stood there for a few more minutes, then glanced at
his watch.  Nearly
ten o'clock.  He nudged Graham.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, I gotta get out of here.  Great party."  He set
his unopened drink on
a table.

"You're taking off?"

"Yeah, sorry.  The student-thing is just a cover.  I'm
really a working
man."  He half-smiled.  Graham really looked upset
that he was leaving.

"You gotta get up early?"  Graham said, sounding like
he understood.  But
yeah, Xander could hear it now, too.  Upset.  Before
Xander could respond,
someone from the group grabbed Graham's arm and asked
him something.  Xander
slipped away, heading for the front door before he
ended up hanging out
another half hour just because he wanted to.

He got down the front steps, then heard his name.  He
turned around to see
Graham hurrying after him.

"Hey."

"Hey.  You, um, really have to go?"

Xander shrugged.  "Gotta work."

"Not much of a stalker, taking off like this.  Aren't
you supposed to sit
outside my place all night in a beat-up-car?"

Xander narrowed his eyes.  "Graham, you sound like you
have some experience
with this."  Then he laughed at the expression on
Graham's face.  "Nah, I
can't.  I have to work -- eleven pm to seven am."

"Oh!  You mean...you have to go now."  Graham looked
at his watch.  "It's
only ten."

"Gotta head home and change.  Get my polyester uniform
of doom."

There was a twitch in the corner of Graham's mouth.
"A man in uniform,
huh?"

Xander smiled, slyly.  "Yeah.  You know what they say
about us."

With a straight face, Graham said, "They look better
out of uniform?"  While
Xander gaped, Graham said, more shyly, "I'll see you
tomorrow in class?"

"And tomorrow afternoon in office hours."  Xander got
his jaw working again.
Just in time, too, because Graham was *damn* fast.  He
was turning around
and running up the stairs before Xander was through
realising that he'd just
been kissed.

"Damn."