ethrosdemon & Lar ||| Buffy & Angel

Shameless III: No Chance
by Lar and ethrosdemon

EMAIL: naturallycalm@yahoo.com =and= HERE

Distribution: No one has asked for it yet besides Sam, but she is in the clear.
Disclaimer: We own nothing, not even a chinchilla, but we especially do not own Lindsey or Xander, and they are much the worse for it. Mutant Enemy and Joss own everything and misuse it.
Rating: R
Spoilers: S4/1
Summary: The boys have a real date, and it goes pretty much as you might expect.
Improv: alert, shelter, vice, wax
Dedication: To Pet for her enthusiastic cheering during the process, but she didn't stick around for the end. Ha.

=====

*BEEP* //Xander, this is Lindsey. I don't know what your hours are at work, so, I have no idea when you'll be home, but I was just calling in case you were there. Which you aren't. Clever. That's me. Unless you screen your calls, but I'm going to ignore that option. Gimme a call.//

*BEEP* //Hey. I guess you're not home yet. I just had a marathon lunch with a client who I would rather not be in the same room with, much less seen in public with. Thought talking to you would be a nice pick me up. Oh well. Bye.//

*BEEP* //Are you scared yet? I swear I'm not normally like this. If you were to say, call me, I might stop leaving these messages. Ok, so you can't see that I'm kidding. But I am. Kidding. Oh shit, I'll just hang up now.//

*BEEP* //I know, you're shocked. There's an actual reason for all these humiliating calls. I was wondering if you wanted to get together this week. I was giving you that heads up. I suppose I might have gone overboard. Call me if you wanna hook up.//

Xander grins as he listens to the messages. Apparently Lindsey is a multimedia stalker kind of guy. It's endearing, in an almost paranoid kind of way. And it will make Xander giddy if he lets it. Gorgeous, sexy, smart lawyer guy is calling him all the time. Even when he knows Xander won't be there to answer. This must be how Cordelia felt her whole life - wanted and needed and special and, OK, in his case horny as hell.

He can definitely groove on the change in his social status.

Picks up the phone, looks at his watch, decides to chance the call. What would one more unleft message matter? Dials the number he already knows by rote. He's looked at the card so many times that it's already worn on the edges, lost its sharpness. He's traced the raised letters, 'Lindsey R. MacDonald, Esq.' about 500 times. He can see the whole card in his head when he shuts his eyes and visualises, like he does now.

Listens to the ring, ring ring and click, recites along to the message:

"I'm not in at the moment. Please leave your name, number and the time of your call. If this is an emergency, please contact my office." Formal lawyer-voice, no accent, but still rough and familiar to his ear.

No emergency, and no message, and what difference does it make? He probably has one of those high tech phones that trace the calls and leave the phone number, name, address, and blood type of the person on the other end anyway. There's no way he's calling the him at work. He called one time, or rather dialled the number and hung up in a panic before it even started to ring. He figures that when it's time for him to actually get in touch with Lindsey, the Fates will make it happen.

Either that or he'll get another surprise visit, and that would be most definitely of the good.

======

//You have 2 messages.// *Beep*

//Mr. MacDonald, I'm calling from the L.A. Times, and we'd like to offer -// *click*

Damn computerized phone solicitations, no way to get around them finding your private line with their pain in the ass random calling patterns. They should all be strung out by their necks for getting his hopes up.

//Lindsey, it's Lilah. I-// *click* Speaking of being strung by the neck.

She can't just limit the fucking annoyance to the office, has to bring her own special brand of glass-shards under his nails, fake camaraderie into his apartment.

Lindsey picks up the caller ID box and sees three calls came in while he was out. The last was a no message. Presses the button until the number he's been hoping to see shows up. Grins and dials one handed as he pulls his tie loose and tosses it onto the couch.

//ring, ring//

Dashing out of the shower, Xander grabs the phone right before the machine clicks over. "Hello?"

"Are you running from bill collectors?" There it is, clear this time without the blurry tape of the machine ruining the gravely, raw edges. Lindsey's voice, accent right back down on the farm.

"Actually, no, I was in the shower surveying the lingering damage from your last visit." Xander grins and sits on the bed, towel around his waist. He lifts the edge of it and peers down at the faint bruises on his thighs. Fingerprint sized bruises.

"Damage is not normally a positive description, but you didn't seem too upset about it at the time." Lindsey flashes to a bright-hot picture of Xander, lower lip between his teeth as he eases inside of him, feels a thump right in the pit of his belly.

"You've now witnessed the patented Xander way with words. Damage in a good way, the best way, the bestest way. Um, right, I guess you got the idea." Babbling, what he does best, and it's been a while since he felt this gleefully relaxed with someone, anyone. A feeling he could get used to, if he dared.

Laughter. "I got it. I was hoping you wouldn't hang up on me when I called what with the complete freak routine I pulled."

"No hanging. Besides, you would just call back. HA. Joke." Short pause as he flops back on the bed, soft grunt as he lands, which Lindsey can hear. "So, what's up?"

"I was thinking we might, as they say in France, have a date."

"A date. Hmm, like with the eating and the movie watching?" Sits back up slowly, because this is out of the blue. Completely unexpected.

"Or whatever you might want. Eating, movie watching, dancing, whatever." Lindsey does his best to use that well-practiced, lawyer control over his voice, keep the edge off of it. Casual, that's what this is. No big deal. Except for the fact that he's gripping the phone so hard that his fingertips are going numb.

"On the dancing, you are not wanting that one. Dancing, no. The rest, yes." And of course when he hears dancing, he thinks right away of work, of dancing in front of Lindsey and that's not something he can handle right now, no way, uh uh, and maybe he should look into some therapy because he knows that's not what was meant. Paranoia, thy name is Xander.

"Ok, no dancing. I'm not exactly twinkle toes myself, so you're saving me years of therapy on that one." Guilty jump from Xander when he hears Lindsey almost speak his thoughts. Tunes in to the rest. " I was thinking you could come down here. Maybe meet me at my apartment. If you wanted."

//Oh and that's not too pathetic// Lindsey thinks, as soon as he says it. Wonders what the hell happened to discretion and no commitment and only on my own terms.

"Wow. Sure, I'm off tomorrow, is that too soon?"

That's what happened to it, that eager puppy attitude, guileless brown eyes, soft mouth, hard body. Speaking of hard... Lindsey thinks out loud, says "Now isn't too soon."

Xander feels something melt, heat pooling from chest to cock in one long slow drip. His voice drops to match the other man's tone without even realizing it. "You know what to say to get the stomach-flip-of-doom."

"It might have been your lunch." But he's smiling, and Xander can hear it. And he's starting to get that eerie feeling where you feel like you've known someone all your life, even though you really don't know them at all " So, you got a pad and a pen, I'll give you directions."

"Pad, paper, I am on it." He takes the notes, precise directions, and wonders two things. How the hell am I going to get one of the guys to lend me their car? And what the fuck do I wear on a guy-date in LA?

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

Absolutely refusing to look at his watch again, Lindsey glances instead at the chrome and glass clock on his wall. Pretentious. Why couldn't I have just bought things I liked? Next time, wood floors and deep, comfortable furniture, not all this Swedish, modernist shit. I wonder if he'll think I'm a complete ass. Or if he's coming at all.

Stood up, and it's been a long damned time since that's happened. 8:43. Shoulda been here at 6:30, and that means late. Even if Xander is one of those guys with the whole "creative" time keeping personalities, two plus hours is late. And Lindsey is, something. Panicky was the closest thing he could put a name to, and he didn't like being made to feel that way.

Then there's the buzz of the intercom, and the doorman announcing his guest, and fuck, he's here. Not dead, not stood up, here, in the elevator. Get a grip, MacDonald. All the same, there better be a good excuse

Opens the door hard, and Xander's standing there semi-dishevelled and possibly as panicked as Lindsey is himself. Not afraid to show it either, because he says it straight out.

"I was lost, and freaking, and it was all bad. Sorry."

"We missed our reservations." He knows he should try to smooth over the situation, but he hates missing appointments, hates being late, hates disruptions to his plans. Xander has no way to know that. Has no way to know why he's still tense, still not overjoyed to see him, so he reaches out and pulls him inside. Hello kisses might still be not quite right for this relationship, and right, he didn't realize until now that word even applied, but he opens his mouth on the one above him and tries to let everything in his mind bleed through.

Rush of relief through Xander because he is wound so tight over this event that he doesn't really know how to act. Until Lindsey pulls him in, and there's the tingle of skin and the smell of him. Taste and heat all clicking right through to permanently established paths, and maybe they don't need to go anywhere. Slightly disappointed that things kind of stop at the kiss, not what he's come to expect from the other man who is normally all rushed sex and breathless fondling, but the smile on Lindsey's face is as good as things get while they are still clothed.

Lindsey pushes back, walks over to the black leather armchair by the bar and grabs his jacket. "Ok, so, the romantic dinner is out, how about we head over to the Liquid Crystal for a drink and some finger food?" Open smile, and trying to be non-ruffled.

"Um, underage." Xander tightens his posture, and Lindsey realizes he is worried that he'll not be served, that it will be a "thing" and the night will be ruined. He might also still be put off by the whole not-so-well suppressed OCD incident.

"Not a problem. Trust me." Winds his fingers through the other man's and pulls the door closed behind them.

===========

The place is crowded but not uncomfortably so. Xander finds himself measuring the size of it with his own brand new gauge of the show turn outs. This is about a Wednesday night crowd. Tuesdays are dead, Fridays and Saturdays are packed, and is this going to be something he does forever now?

Shakes it off and gives a silent thanks to whatever deity made him ask some of the guys what the hell to wear to dinner in LA. After the more obnoxious comments ran out of steam, Steve led him to his locker and showed him some decent city garb. Took pity on him and *loaned* him the outfit when he saw Xander's face. Black ribbed turtleneck, black slacks, leather blazer. Boots, which he amazingly enough has on his own. He feels weird in the other guy's clothes, not himself, but when he sees what the other customers are wearing, he knows it's right. He looks like he belongs with Lindsey, who's wearing something far above the jeans and cotton thermals he'd worn on their first encounter. Slacks that probably cost more than Xander's monthly rent. Possibly two months'. Sweater that brings out the blue in his eyes, and a jacket that has to be custom made.

Xander glances at Lindsey, who surprisingly enough doesn't put any personal space between them when they get to the restaurant. His hand's on the small of Xander's back as they weave through the people and towards the bar. A few empty seats and they take two facing away from the door.

Lindsey says, "Beer?" with his hand already up to catch the bartender's eye, and when Xander nods he orders two Newcastles.

"Newcastle? I see now that you are all about the expensive beer."

"In public. One of those things I picked up along the way. After two they all taste the same. Did you want something else?" Hand half way up again just in case.

"What? No, no. Whatever you have, that's fine. Not to sound like I'm trying to copy you, or just...right, Newcastle is fine." Xander is still a little wigged from getting lost in a city that to him is the size of the entire state of California, and the whole first date thing isn't helping either. But Lindsey seems to be unwinding a little bit, he's looking at Xander like there's no one else in the room, and that's just fine. So fine, in fact, that Xander takes off the jacket and turns to lay it carefully over the seat next to him.

Lindsey admires the view of that long, lithe torso encased in the snug black shirt. Thinks, with no great need to rush it, of the rest of the night together, especially after drinks and food. Back in his apartment, and out of the sweater, and...right, say something. Now. "You look nice. Black suits you. Tight does too. But no clothes are fine by me."

"Blushing. Clothes and no clothes, and where are those drinks?" He's blushing, too, but it's dark enough to not be visible. He feels about 12 years old, and what the hell happens if the bartender comes down here and asks for ID when he brings the drinks?

Lindsey's knee brushes his then, not a press but just a touch. Slide over and back, like he knows that Xander is ready to trip and needs a grounding force. It works, Xander breathes out a long sigh and decides this is all pretty much all good with him. Beer on the way, food later, Lindsey here flirting with him in a way that makes him all kinds of glad he didn't give up when he got lost.

But there is some really tall chick giving them the eye for about 10 minutes now. "Do you know that lady?" Xander's voice is curious but not upset as he nods to a spot behind Lindsey's left shoulder.

Lindsey doesn't want to turn around. He knows already what the fates have in store for him. His entire body goes rigid, but he plasters a smile on his face for Xander, turns and sees Lilah stalking through the crowd towards them.

He faces back to Xander, alter to whatever is about to happen.

"Ignore anything she says." Sees the startled look on the boy and hopes he listens to him.

"Lindsey. Hi. Who's this? You already over that fling with the Latin boy? But this could be Latin boy number two, or maybe it's in the double digits." Sticks her hand out and Xander automatically takes it. "Lilah Morgan. I'm a colleague of Lindsey's." Her smile is huge and makes her face look like it's carved out of wax.

"Lilah, I don't think this is the time." Knows he has to get rid of her as soon as possible, play damage control with Xander, tell him whatever he can to soothe him and not give away too much about his work.

"Oh, right, I am interrupting the conquest. I hope you at least pay for dinner if you're not paying for the rest.Well, you know best how to handle your own vices." And he's trying to control himself, but his hand flies out on its own accord and the sound of it hitting her face is almost deafening even to him.

Lilah turns on her heel and stomps away not even gracing them with a parting remark as the image of his fingers around her neck pop into Lindsey's mind, all those desires he has regarding her coming to the fore when his sheltering place is blown away by her abrupt entrance and complete obliteration of his evening.

Xander's expression is unreadable. Lindsey knows that is the worst sign he could have gotten.

"Xan, I." Flare of anger at Lilah still high, and he stops himself before he says something stupid here and makes it worse. Should have known that back stabbing snake would turn up just when things were getting to be on the closer side of good for him.

"Do you regularly bitch slap your 'colleagues'?" He's gripping his beer in a clenched fist, his voice so tight, so cold that it doesn't even sound like Xander at all. Tilts up the glass, draining it almost to the bottom.

"Not that I don't want to, but no. She's jealous." That sounds forced and a half-truth to his own ears and knows it has to sound worse to someone else, but even if he wanted to tell Xander the truth, this bar is not the place to do it. Too many people, most of them staring at him now, and he knows that Xander is just as hurt as he is angry. Control of the situation is long gone, but Lindsey can't stop trying to fix it.

"Interesting take on the situation." Xander leans over and picks up the borrowed jacket, shrugs into it with a grace that is evident even in his anger.

"It's complicated, why don't we just leave? Maybe go back to my place and order in?" Lindsey's eyes are dark again, and the tight reigns are completely unraveling. Could this night have gone any further south than it has right now?

"Right, so you can get the benefits of the rest of the 'date'? So it can all go down like she just predicted? I don't think so." And Xander's on his feet and past Lindsey before the blond man can process what's happening. Split second reaction time, and he's chasing the boy down. Catches up with him close to the door and makes a snatch for him arm. Gets ahold with much more force than he intended and wrenches Xander around.

"You gonna bitch slap me now?" No anger there, just hurt, acres of it, tons of it, and Lindsey lets go, watches as Xander pushes his way through the front doors and out onto the street.

Disappears.

= end part iii =

Shameless Part IV: No Fear



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