Lar ||| Buffy & Angel

Everything
by Lar

EMAIL: HERE
RATING: PG
COUPLE: X/W
SUMMARY: Summertime, cookouts, normalcy.
SPOILERS: vague for "The Gift"
DISCLAIMER: Joss, not me. Too bad.
IMPROV #21: Happy ending
NOTES: For ethrosdemon, because the original idea I had was too depressing and she got me going on this one.

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Hard to believe that they had ever been anything but together when he thinks back on it. Because here in the sun, tall grass around the edges of the lawn, smell of ribs cooking, it feels like a piece of forever, tiny micron of time spinning out endlessly for him. Xander lays back in the wooden chair, eyes closed behind the dark glasses and lets the sun bake into him. Imagines he can feel the melanin multiplying and taking over as his skin turns brown and his bones soak up the warmth.

The dog barks somewhere over by the edge of the yard, harassing whatever squirrel was stupid enough to let itself been seen, and the rough noise beats an out of rhythm counter point to the scratchy sounds of old vinyl. Always records when they cook out, never the CD's or the radio, because she always says that this is more authentic. More real. So underneath the tones of Marvin Gay and the growls of the damn dog, if Xander strain his ears he can hear her singing through the open window. She's in there now tossing the salad, hair tucked behind her ears, humming low, and now and then she'll join in on a really good chorus or maybe just let loose with one of those sexy little moans and make him pull his shirt down over his lap in case the neighbors decide to drop by and say hello.

Down the street a motorcycle engine sputters to life, roars loud as the driver revs the engine and then dies off as he drives away. The dog has apparently vanquished the squirrel and found something quieter to do. Marvin is still singing, and the ribs are still cooking, and life still rolls on around him, and there is no bad here at all. Bad is a thing of the past, buried and not mourned here in the daylight, with no shadows or reminders calling, something to leave quietly resting until it's their turn to take flowers back to the grave.

But today it's sunny, and warm, and their turn is weeks away. And Xander can let himself smile as the backdoor opens and Willow comes out singing. He drops his sunglasses down to the end of his nose, stares at her over them with a grin on his face. Watches her calmly set the bowl on the round table, cover it with a papertowel and put her hands on her hips. Her head tilts to the side, hair falling from the tight tuck behind her right ear and spilling over her shoulder while he watches her take mental inventory of the food she's brought out.

"I think that's everything," she says, comes over to him finally, settles in his lap and leans back.

The ribs will be done in a few more minutes. The dog comes panting over and flops down in the shade of the house. Xander kisses Willow's neck. "Yeah, that's everything."

-end



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