ethrosdemon & Lar ||| Buffy & Angel

Damnation IV - Devil May Care
by ethrosdemon & Lar

EMAIL: naturallycalm@yahoo.com & HERE
DISTRIBUTION: List archives, people who beg, you know the routine.
DISCLAIMER: Joss and Mutant Enemy own the boys, we just pretend that we do. We have nothing of value, do not sue us.
PAIRING: Xander/Lindsey
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Shanshu
SUMMARY: The boys try to repair themselves.
DEDICATION: To Katie for the beta, and for helping us over a rough spot.

================

Buzz of the intercom, and the doorman is announcing Mr. Harris. Lindsey is waiting at the open door when Xander gets off the elevator. It had taken him about 15 minutes of puzzling through the drugged stupor and the adrenaline rush combination to realize that Xander had gone off to kill Angel. For him. Part of Lindsey thrills at the idea, sees it for what it is on some level: don't fuck with what's mine. Knows he would have done the same thing had positions been reversed. Another part of him thinks that Xander might never come back. Not because he doesn't want to, but that Angel won't take the attack from the boy lightly, and who knows what his personal hair-trigger might be. Or if the act of violence against Lindsey woke up the demon just enough to remind him of his taste for pain, and Xander walked right into the snare.

Sees Xander come around the corner of the hallway, and does a quick visual confirmation that there's nothing bleeding. Or missing. "Did you get him?" Doesn't really try to hide the raw hope in his voice.

"Get him, yes. Kill him, no." Xander's face a conflicted mask of anger, frustration and something Lindsey can't quite place, but he thinks might be pain. Wave of disappointment at hearing that Angel isn't coming to his apartment in a baggie //sack, it was a sack in the dream//, and he turns to walk back into the apartment. Doesn't close the door or invite Xander in. Doesn't tell him to leave either.

Xander steps in, pushes the door closed behind him, hurries to get himself in front of Lindsey. Stands there and just *looks* at him, and Lindsey knows what he sees. He knows how he looks, tangled hair, eyes blurry from the meds, face scruffy because he hasn't even attempted to shave left handed on his own yet, electric razor or not. Loose thermal shirt, grey sweatpants, and bare feet.

Fixes his gaze on Xander and tells him in a clear, strong voice, "I'm still pissed."

"I can tell." Xander puts a tentative hand out, cups the back of Lindsey's neck and tries to kiss him. Freezes when Lin pulls back. Licks his lips and drops to his knees, slowly, gracefully, looking up at Lindsey to see what he'll do. Waits, waits and then nuzzles his face into Lindsey's belly, hands coming up to his waist and holding him still. Inhales the scent of sweat and sickness and underneath it all, Lindsey's skin. Lets his head drop lower, face brushing the worn cotton of the sweatpants, feeling the evidence of the effect the contact has on the other man, hardening length against his cheek.

"A blow job isn't going to make everything go away." Quiet voice from somewhere up above him, and Xander nods, more friction of face on fabric. Feels Lindsey's breath alter rhythm and pulls him in tighter.

"If I do it right, it will for a few minutes." Feels Lindsey's hand on his hair and sighs. Hooks his fingers in the waistband of the sweats and pulls them out, down over hips, taking the briefs with him. Pushes up the shirt with one hand, and presses his face against Lindsey's cock, nose against the tight skin of his groin, gentle scratch of the wiry hair well remembered and arousing. Kisses the naked hip, skates his lips along the bone jutting out.

Hand around the base now, and Xander licks from bottom to top, slips the head between his lips and hears Lindsey gasp. Clutch of fingers in his hair as he suckles and lets the length slip further into his mouth. Holds him there for a moment before letting him slide out, stroking him with one hand and letting the other find the small of Lindsey's back and rest there. Tongue out again, wide as he can make it licking over the head, catching the salty droplets that are there already. Feels the wave of his own need surge through him as he tastes Lindsey again in his mouth.

Another stroke of his hand and Lindsey moans. Xander looks up to see heavy-lidded blue eyes watching him, full pouting lower lip caught in Lindsey's teeth. Keeps the eye contact as he opens up his mouth and takes Lindsey in, slow and deep. Feels him tensing, knows he's on the edge and pushes him into his throat further, his own groan humming around Lindsey's cock. With the hum comes the buckling of Lindsey's knees, he collapses on the floor and Xander scrambles to catch him.

"Don't stop." Xander snatches the sweatpants all the way off shaking legs, grasps Lindsey's right hip and takes him back in his mouth. Long exhalation that might have been his name, and Xander doesn't hesitate, makes it happen fast. Hand tugging in his hair, slim hips moving under his fingers for the first time since Xander touched him tonight, and he swallows every drop. Rests his face against Lindsey's belly and feels the other man stroke his hair.

===============

The leather couch creaks under him whenever he moves, but that's not the sound that wakes Xander from the drowsing state he finally falls into. First he thinks there's some kind of animal in the apartment, a cat in the vents somehow or something weirder than that, and it's making those freaky noises that animals tend to make when they're trapped and scared. Sits up, comes more fully awake and realizes he's hearing Lindsey in the bedroom. Listens to him whimpering and groaning for a few more seconds, gets up to go wake him and spare him the nightmare he's trapped in. Maybe give him another dose of his meds, although Xander thinks the meds and Lindsey see way too much of each other, and he's only been here less than a day.

Pauses at the partially open door and pushes it so that it swings in. Light from the hallway falls on the bed, square of pale yellow that frames Lindsey as he twists and writhes in his sleep, legs tangled in the blankets. Xander takes a step forward and freezes when he hears the keening sounds turn over into fully formed words.

"Xan, no, uh, please. Don't. Stoppppp!" Creased forehead and sweat glistening on his face as he turns and moans again. Xander hears his heart thudding heavily in his ears. Backs up, pulls the door almost closed again and returns to the couch. Sits there for a second with his throat working before he drops his head into his hands and just starts crying. Hot tears burn his eyes, and he never imagined that his life would ever become this much of a mess. Tries his best to keep the weeping under control because the last thing he wants to do is add to the disaster and wake Lindsey up, not now that he's learned that the thing chasing him through his nightmares and making him whimper like a beaten dog is apparently Xander himself.

Bone weariness sets in as he sniffles and tries to take in a few long deep breaths. He lays back on the couch again, forearm over his eyes, coasts into an uneasy sleep, still feeling the wetness soaking into the hair at his temples from tears that just won't seem to stop despite all his efforts to think of Smurfs and sit-and-spins and freeze-pops . Listens to the soundtrack of Lindsey's nightmares as he drifts.

Sometime later, minutes or hours, he's got no way of knowing, and there's a soft jarring movement against his leg. Opens one heavy eyelid and peers out from under his arm to see Lindsey standing there staring at him. His face is soft in the shadows, and he looks perplexed as he asks, "Why're you sleeping on the couch?"

Xander slides up a little, looks at him carefully in the darkened room, fuzzy from his own drowsing and the edge of exhaustion he teeters on, physical and emotional. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Was I snoring?" Head turned to the side a little, watching. Considering.

Xander matches the head tilt, mimics him unconsciously. Swallows hard to make sure he says something non-committal. He can see Lindsey is vague and unfocused, either stoned or sleepwalking or caught between both. "No, not snoring."

"Needed your rest?" Steps closer to where he lays on the couch, left hand rubbing absently on his own chest.

"Huh?" Genuine confusion on Xander's part, and maybe Lin isn't the only one stuck in the dream time. With out warning, he finds himself with a lap full of Lindsey as the other man drops to the couch on top of him, light languid motions and hot hot skin though the t-shirt and cotton pajama pants he wears. "Lindsey, um, what are you doing?"

"Showing you why rest is over rated." Face up close and breath warm on Xander's face, lips soft and brushing over his, tip of his tongue wet and seeking, and Xander lets himself be overcome. Opens his mouth eagerly underneath Lindsey's and laps at the full soft lips above him, draws the lower one in to suck and nibbles. Careful hands find Lindsey's hair, wind in the waves and pull him down. The kiss grows deeper, hungrier, as Xander arches into the press of the body on his, and he has to remember to be careful, careful of not hurting Lin.

Knee between his thighs now, and Xander's legs drop open. Press of leg against his cock and he rocks his hips into the weight of it. Lindsey's body leans to the right, rests against the back of the couch as his hand finds space between them to stroke Xander through his boxers, over and over until Xander is writhing up and panting. Closes his eyes as Lindsey rolls himself back on top, seats his knee into the cushion beneath them and fits his own cock into the hollow of Xander's hipbone. Presses his face into Xander's neck, dropping hot wet kisses there as he thrusts his hips slowly. Xander's head rolls against the arm of the couch, one arm clutching the leather behind him and the other cradling Lindsey's head at his shoulder.

Break of the rhythm all of a sudden and Lindsey's voice, thick and heavy with desire and need is in his ear. "Xander?"

"Yeah? Don't stop, just a little more, please." Lets his arm come down from the couch where he was holding it to drop across Lindsey's shoulder, rub and press down his back as he rolls his hips up, hard and aching.

Lindsey pulls back a bit. "Is this a dream?" Breathless voice, open wet mouth right there against Xander's cheek, and he shudders.

"No, Lin, not a dream."

Lindsey starts to cry and clutches Xander to him, face against his t-shirt as he mumbles, "Thought it was a dream, thought it was all another dream." Lets Xander press him in tighter, the arm around his shoulder dropping to his waist, slipping under the shirt, his hands cooler than Lindsey's fevered skin. Trails the fingertips lightly up Lindsey's back, feels him shiver again and begin to move. Slow, slow rocking hips, face to neck and then open mouthed kisses tasting of tears, and Xander comes with a low moan and a sigh.

Xander sleeps in the bed from then on.

=====

Xander's in the kitchen reading the comics and eating toast when he hears Lindsey swearing quietly in the bathroom. Choice words clear now and then and Xander takes a minute to be amused until he hears him moan. Up from the table in a second and down the hallway, the door to the bathroom is closed but not tight. The lock never clicked and there's a sliver of light between the door and the frame. Puts his ear up to the door and hears Lin panting and struggling with something, occasionally a heartfelt "fuck" comes out, low moan right behind it.

Pushes on the door cautiously, and sees Lindsey struggling with the bandages. He's got the old ones on the floor and the new ones are a tangled wreck around his wound. He's sweating, even though the bathroom is chilly, and Xander can tell it's the cold sweat of pain.

"Let me help you." Steps in and keeps his voice quiet, knows he's getting way into Lin's personal space here, something that's brand new between them. Closed doors and privacy when he dresses and real anger whenever Xander tries to help or ask him about the hand, and it's not something Xander has found a way to break down. Yet.

True to form, Lindsey looks up at him and doesn't even attempt to hide the anger. His eyes are glassy and his face is flushed. "Get the hell out of here!"

"Lin...let me help you. You need some help." Steps over closer, shuts the door behind him.

"I don't need anyone's goddamn help, least of all yours." Distracted from the botched task, the bandages he's been trying to replace fall away and the wound is clearly visible. Xander's heart flips over in sympathy, and he thinks about how much that must have hurt, the incredible pain that must have knocked him out, and he could have *died* from it.

Lindsey sees him staring, turns and tries to shield it from Xander's view. Flushes further in embarrassment at him seeing it, now attentive on what he hates to look at himself. "Get out! Get out now!"

"Lins, baby, I have fucked you up the ass, you think seeing your booboo is gonna bother me? Damn it, stop being a fucking moron!" Brushing away Lindsey's objections, Xander steps closer, raises one brow at him and folds his arms. Not going anywhere until this confrontation is handled and there's one less thing between them to be skirted around and avoided.

Panting again, tired and in pain, and still not ready to trust that Xander won't be revolted at the sight of his disfigurement, he glares at him. "You gotta mouth on you, don'tcha boy?"

"I always thought you liked that." Easy grin, there's no stress in Xander's voice or the way he holds his body, and Lindsey feels the fear and anger slip down a few notches.

"It's not like you know how to do this any better than I do." His shoulders drop down, the injured arm relaxes away from his body, and he takes a shuddering breath. Everything hurts, every part of him, and he's so tired of doing this. Just wants it to be better, wants to wake up and find that it was all a nightmare, and it's summertime again. Back in Oxnard and just meeting Xander, and everything could be different this time.

"You'd be surprised. Sit there." Lindsey sits on the toilet seat, lets Xander unwrap a new package of bandages and kneel on the floor in front of him. "I hate to break this to you, but the bandaging is a two handed operation. I have two, you have one. You can either deal with that or try to gnaw my head off with your teeth."

Xander begins to wrap, hands firm and gentle, and as Lindsey watches his face he sees nothing but concentration there, intent on getting this done quickly and getting it done right. Takes a steadying breath and swipes his forearm across his face. Xander glances up, reaches back and hands him a towel, then continues with his ministrations.

"I might go with the gnawing, but I have to wait until my teeth don't feel like they're made of rubber. "Lindsey runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth, then gives Xander a mock-ferocious snarl.

"Saved by modern pharmacology." He barely looks up, tears off a strip of tape with his teeth and presses it to the end of the wrapping.

"Don't tell anyone about this." Quiet voice, bravado gone and Xander looks up for real this time, patient and amused.

"Right, like who, all my imaginary friends? Hey, Burt, ixnay on the andage-bay." Snorts a little at the idea and tears off another strip of the white tape. Gentle hands, Lindsey barely feels the pressure when it's applied beside the first piece.

Gazes down at the top of Xander's head as it's bent to the task. Small smile slipping out as he says, "Sometimes I wonder if you have a chromosome missing."

"You aren't the first one." Lindsey watches Xander check the job he's done with a critical eye before gathering up the old bandages, the ones he's ruined in his earlier attempts and tosses them all into the trashcan. Takes the hand he's offered and lets Xander herd him to the couch, trailing on his heels like a puppy.

=====

Laying in bed, Lindsey covered with Xander and a sheet, slipping off to sleep. Soft kiss on the back of his neck, and he should have known it was about time for another talk. "I want the whole story on the hand."

Sighs, tenses up in Xander's arms until he feels the rough brush of stubble as the chin digs into the place where his neck and shoulder meet that makes it impossible for him to hunch up tight. Sighs again, tries to sound rougher than he feels. "You're pushing your luck with demands like that."

"I think I can take you. How many pounds you think I have on you? And, well, we're not going to mention the other advantage."

Opens his eyes wide and half turns in Xander's arms. Exasperated tone when he exclaims, "Jesus. Do you know what the word tact means?"

"Yes, I can use it in a sentence too. 'Jimmy had a bulletin board, he tact pictures to it.' "

Smug satisfaction, completely straight face, and Lindsey rolls back, presses himself against Xander's hips. Feels an answering push in return and the stirrings of Xander's cock against the cleft of his ass. Makes a low noise in the back of his throat and smiles. "What response is there to a remark like that?"

"The story about the hand, response I want." Lingering kiss on his ear, tickle of the tip of Xander's tongue on the lobe, and Xander's releasing him. Propping himself up on his elbow waiting for Lindsey to answer him.

Growl of frustration when he realizes in quick succession that he isn't ever going to get around this question, and now is as good a time as any to give in and tell him. He'll leave or he'll stay and it might as well be now than later, before he lets himself trip all the way over the emotional line. "Goddamn, fine! There's this scroll..." The tale drags out, it's long in the telling, and they both get caught up in it.

Xander listens to the whole sordid story. Doesn't visibly flinch at the part about Cordelia in the hospital, doesn't gag when he hears about Angel smiling at his victory. Lindsey rolls over on to his belly, and strokes the hair below Xander's navel.

"Baby, do you hate me now?" Won't meet Xander's eyes, keeps his gaze trained on the hand that's petting him instead.

"Hate you? Lindsey, I could never hate you. I love you so much it's killing me. It's all my fault anyway." Xander reaches down, hand in Lindsey's hair, exerts enough pressure to get him to look up.

"Your fault? God Xander, you're a piece of work. It's not your fault, I acted on my own volition." Can't believe the boy would take it all himself, he's got enough guilt for the things he actually * did*.

"But if I had just left with you." Tears in the corner of his eyes, heartfelt anguish, and Lindsey's pissed. Pissed at himself for spilling it all out in one go, pissed at Xander for blaming himself, pissed at him even more for grasping at what might have been.

"And never told me the fucking truth, is that what you want? Lies? You think that would be better?" Watches the tears well up and out, down the boy's face at his tone.

"Yeah, I do." Brushes the wetness away with the back of his fingers.

"I would've found out eventually, and trust me when I tell you, it would have been a whole hell of a lot worse that way." Gentle as he can get it out, only a residual edge on the words.

"You have little faith in my lying abilities. You would have never known." Lindsey drops his head back to the pillow and considers how to end this conversation.

"Xander, you talk in your sleep, did you know that? What do you think would have happened if I woke up one night and you were groaning out her name?"

"Do you know her name?" Curiosity, and the tears have ended.

"I do now." Riding on a sigh, Lindsey opens his eyes to see Xander's face hovering directly above his.

"But, did you before?" Tilt to the side, bottom lip wanting to ease into a grin, but he knows this is still shaky ground, it can fall away suddenly and sharply.

"No, how could I have? I didn't know she existed."

"So, like I said, you would have had no clue." The grin appearing full blown, fingers of the hand not cradling his head ghosting over Lindsey's torso.

"I think the wet-dream might have spawned some type of argument." Fingers pushing the hair behind Xander's ear, parting of the lips to signal interest in taking this non-verbal.

"Most of my wet-dreams involve you or the world with the chocolate cows from that Hershey syrup commercial." Spoken into the hollow of his collarbone, punctuated with tongue flicks. Lindsey stills him. Pulls his head up by the hair, no pain, but insistence there.

"Tell me something I want to know now. Did you ever have sex with Cordelia?" Xander's eyes close for a heartbeat or two, his smile gone, muscles around his jaw drawn tight.

"Unless you want to have a Bill Clinton type exchange here, could we save this conversation for another day? I want to know all about your sources about my life in Sunnydale when we get around to this." Slips his fingers under the elastic of Lindsey's pajamas, making sure not to touch anything important, teasing.

"I'll let you off, but only because I'm thinking about those chocolate cows." Raises his face to Xander's, opens his mouth, and sleep finds them tangled together and spent.

==========

Xander thinks about being a bad guy. He thinks about it most of the time when he's not thinking about touching, talking to or helping Lindsey. Life has taken him many places before Lin happened to him, and he feels it in the passive. There have been choices, sure, but all in all, he recognizes that life has carried him and others have made his largest choices. He knows Lin feels the same way about his own life. And that's the part that Xander can see as amusing, because he's come to the place in his life where no matter what he does, he's fucked, so he has what Willow would call perspective.

He never chose to be good. Just a turn of the wheel. He met Buffy; Buffy fought for the good; he cared about Buffy; he fought for the good. Looking at it like that, he sees that the pivotal choice of his life was made because some chick had nice tits. Being hard on himself, because there was also Willow to consider, Willow who is good on the inside, like a ho-ho. Light, creamy and sweet. That's Willow. But, he knows that's just the way he's choosing to see her, knows she's more than that, that the inverse-spark of bad is in her some place as well. A hard nugget of unidentifiable ick in the center of the creamy-goodness.

The choice he's faced with now is not one he can let someone else make or rationalize by saying he stumbled on it. Lindsey is bad. And he never thought he would be so close to someone with that label, get up-close and personal with the makings of the badness. He wishes he hadn't. Hadn't seen that Lindsey isn't evil incarnate, hell-spawn and corrupted soul. He's just a guy. A guy with some issues, oh hell yes. A guy who's made some wrong turns and has some character flaws. But, Xander can't see how that's any different from anyone else he knows.

Sure, Lindsey hates Angel. He has his reasons. Valid as far as Xander can see. What he can't figure out is why Lindsey's bad choices and mistakes are any more flawed than his own, or Willow's, or Giles', and finally he comes to Angel and the horde of human bodies laying in his wake. Right. Lindsey is more evil than that? Lindsey is worse than even a repentant Angel? Xander is having trouble following the logic.

Xander thinks about the bad and the good. About how he's never really considered the complexities and nuances before. He finds himself thinking hard and long about Giles and his past. About Ripper. About Ethan and all the parts of that story he's never heard and wondered about only in the dark of his room in the early morning hours when vamps are heading in from the light and all his bruises were fresh and just beginning to ache. He starts to see Giles' life now as a reparation. Giles making up for all the fun he got up to when he was young. Sees Giles touching his tattoo in the shower and remembering with longing and then scrubbing viciously at the flesh in guilt. Thinks about Giles, the bad guy.

Xander sits in the shower stall, water splashing up his nose in his mouth, thinking about Faith. It's one he reserves for when Lin won't stumble on him, because it makes him cry. Doesn't like to cry in front of his lover, hates to cause him pain over something he can't understand or take away. One of his secret, special regrets. He never loved her, but he needed her in a way. Counterpart to the Buffy crush, he sees that now. He cries for Faith and for the life she'll never have, for the labels he put on her, for the wishing she was dead. Lets the place open up, shines his new understanding on it and hates himself for not realising sooner. Faith never got a chance. They liked to pretend that she only had to say the word, and her whole life could have been different, just one choice and Faith could have put the darkness and hurt behind her. So completely wrong, and he hates himself for being so tied to his one-dimensional version of reality, all pat answers and black and white. He thinks about Faith, the girl who could have been good.

The knowing sits on Xander's back, pushing him forward and making him tired. The knowing that if he does slap the hand away when it reaches down to him, the hand of Buffy or Willow or Dawn or Giles, the hand of light and salvation, of goodness and purity, of uncomplicated decisions and sleeping through the night with no sweats or screaming, that it will be the last time. The last time he's Xander, One Of Us. Xander: good guy.

=============

For the most part, Lindsey tries not to think at all. Lets the opiates in his system dumb him down. Not back at work yet, so he doesn't have to be on his toes. In the habit now of letting Xander do for him. Watches the boy flutter around the apartment, making him food which he's glad he doesn't really taste, tucking a blanket around him when he watches TV, making sure he takes his medicine. His pride was wounded at first, but he let that go. The home-aid nurse was worse, at least Xander isn't laughing about him over a cup of coffee with his work buddies.

When he does think, he thinks of Angel. Hate doesn't even begin to describe what he feels. No words for it, so he doesn't try to name it. The emotion is a tangible entity. It follows him around, dogging on his heels, and he doesn't try to shun it. He thinks of Angel falling to ash under Xander's stake, sometimes pretends it's real and feels lighter. Most of the time he wishes he just hadn't ever met the guy. Knows that's the drugs, because he's never been the avoidance type.

Lindsey thinks about Xander. Thinks about the boy's life now, and how there isn't one. Considers what will happen when he goes back to work, and the boy has to fill his time. Maybe get him in school. That had been the plan back before the girlfriend bomb. He wanted to take Xander away somewhere and put him in school. Get him some self-esteem. Show him that he could make something of his life if he tried. Lindsey equates education with success. He's considering the college plan again. Xander Harris, physicist. That might be a stretch, but he likes the image with the lab coat.

Lindsey thinks about Xander leaving him again. Thinks about making it on his own up until he came around this time. Thinks he might not survive the blow if it happens again. Didn't want to let the boy back in, but he crept up, one joke, one touch, one cup of soup at a time until Lindsey is so wrapped up in having him back that nothing else matters again, almost nothing else. He thinks that if Xander makes the choice to go back home, when the kids come to rescue him -- and he has no doubt it will happen -- he'll just lay down one day and not get up again. He knows that's the drugs again when he thinks that thought a few times, because the truth is, he'll go after Angel. This time he'll know the way the game is played. He'll go for himself, for Xander, for the pain that lays between them. When that happens, it will be over, one way or another.

=====

Xander knows he's living on stolen time, it's like a huge clock with black numbers is burnt into his mind's eye. He can see the second hand tick tock, constantly. The first time he saw Lindsey smile again, he marked the place on the clock with a green arrow. The first time Lindsey touched him again, voluntarily and not doped up or sleep-walking, that one was marked in red.

He knows Sunnydale is well apprised of the Angel situation. Cordelia might have changed, but not that much. Comas and visions don't cause your soul to alter positions, and he knows Cordelia loves for real. No half-commitments and looking back, and he knows she still loves him, if in a diminished capacity in relation to her new, fiery love for Angel. Both weights were almost visibly dangling from her neck while he stood in the doorway to her apartment watching her try not to fragment in front of his eyes. Loves them both, will do whatever it takes. And Xander knows what she believes it will take. But, in the meantime, he lives with Lindsey and loves him the best he can. Hopes that's enough.

=end part iv=

Damnation V: Devil's Due



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