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Seven Habits of Highly Effective Sex Poodles
by Doyle
Summary: It's a very ordinary summer. Xander doesn't mind so much.
Rating: R
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Years later, Xander categorized his summers like episodes of Friends.
There was The One With the Fabulous Ladies and The One After Buffy Ran
Away and - far worse - The One After Buffy Died.
By default, the summer he turned twenty became The One Where Nothing
Happened. It was the Seinfeld of Sunnydale summers. Between May's
destruction of the Initiative and dream-attack by the First Slayer and
Dracula's September visit stretched nearly four months of nothingness.
No major evil arose. The town remained spectacularly demon-free. Even
the vamps seemed to take a vacation. Patrol dwindled to a quick tour of
the empty cemeteries. Scooby meetings became video nights.
It took age and experience to make him realize that that summer was
probably the best of his life.
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Anya was reading when he got back from his deliveries. The sight made
him nervous. Anya reading generally meant Anya scheming something, and
that way lay either evisceration or bankruptcy.
Not that he was some kind of chauvinist, he hastened to add. No
caveman-making evil beer for the Xanman.
"Hey, whatcha reading?" he asked, tossing the pizza box onto the top of
the dryer.
She didn't look up. "Just a sex book. Did you get anchovies?"
"Ahn, you don't need a sex book. You could write a sex book."
"No, it's for you," she said cheerfully. "I thought it would help you
get over your repression. The woman at the library was very helpful."
Xander could actually feel his brain cease functioning. "You... at the
library..."
"Oh, I told her you're an untamed stallion in the sack," she assured
him. "Just that you need some encouragement to. You know. Play kinky sex
games with the other horses." She looked pleased at her own metaphor.
So that was why Mrs. Marlin had answered the door in her negligee. And
asked him inside for a drink. And ordered three pizzas in one night.
Munchies, his ass.
He sat on the bed. She scootched up to make room. "Anya," he said,
taking her hand, "when we're together, it's good, right? It's great. And
there's kink. I'd go so far as to say that we're a kink-heavy couple."
Sure, the only thing he could think of right away was the spanking, but
that counted as kink. A fetish, even. He squeezed her hand. "Not wanting
a threesome with Giles does not make me repressed."
She looked unconvinced for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay. I guess
you're right."
The little Xander in his brain did a sedate, relieved version of the
Snoopy dance.
"It's just a shame," Anya sighed. "Page eighty-one looks exciting."
The book was right there on the bed. She'd left it open.
Curse his curiosity.
"Yeah," he squeaked, when he could tear his attention away. He cleared
his throat. "Yeah. Y'know, I've been thinking, maybe I should read
more."
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The next night was a Tuesday. Tuesday meant hanging at Giles's place and
real food instead of takeout.
"This is great, Giles," he tried to say around a mouthful of spaghetti.
It came out as "thsgrhhjuh".
"It's magically delicious," Willow chimed in. "Except without the
magic."
"Or the creepy little leprechaun," Buffy added.
"I think he's cute," Willow's girlfriend said, blushing. She had a name,
Xander knew, but it was going to take a while to get used to calling her
Tara. He was stuck on mentally calling her `Willow's girlfriend', with
varying emphasis. Willow's girlfriend. Willow's girlfriend.
Anya sat across the table. Every so often she'd look up at him and smile
and shift her socked foot a little in his lap.
At least, he hoped it was Anya's foot. He liked Riley and all, but he
wasn't ready for that kind of relationship.
After dinner he sprawled on the couch while Will and Giles set up the
board for Clue and talked about why it was called Cluedo in England.
Willow's girlfriend was curled in the armchair looking through a dusty
old book. Riley flipped through Giles's music collection - Xander
briefly wondered where Oz was now - and Buffy sat beside him, laughing
whenever he said something funny.
He hadn't seen Buffy happy like that in forever. Looking at her like
that made him warm inside. These last couple of years he'd gone from
wanting her to just wanting her to be happy. If he had a hat, he'd tip
it to Riley. Maybe he could settle for a manly handshake.
Wait, somebody was missing.
He frowned. Where'd Anya disappeared to?
"She said she was going to freshen up," Willow's g... Tara supplied
quietly.
He smiled at her. God, she blushed at anything. That was adorable.
"Thanks. I better go see if she's okay."
"You want us to wait?" Willow asked.
"Nah, go ahead. I think it was Colonel Mustard. Can't trust the military
types." He raised his hands in mock fear at Riley's amused look.
"Present company completely accepted."
As he headed for the bathroom he stopped and stage-whispered to Tara,
"hey, keep the soldier-guy away from the candlesticks. He's got that
murderous look in his eye."
Having all his friends together, and having them laughing, was more than
worth all the crap they'd gone through that spring.
He got as far as tapping on the bathroom door before he was yanked
inside.
"Finally," Anya said. "I thought you were never going to get a clue.
Take off your pants."
Ms. Jenkins, in the bathroom, with the hand lotion.
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Four a.m. was far too early to be barricading himself in his own shower.
"What's wrong?" Anya yelled from the other side of the door.
"Tongue, Ahn!" he shouted back. "Tongue in place where no tongue should
be!"
When his boss asked why he was walking strangely, he made up an excuse
about falling onto a pylon while saving an old lady from
purse-snatchers.
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He sidled up to the hot blonde on the Bronze's catwalk. She was staring
disdainfully down at the dancing crowd below.
"Buy you a drink?"
She spared him a quick glance before going back to her bored
people-watching. "Are you old enough?"
"Twenty-five," he said smoothly. "I'm a property developer."
The blonde tossed her hair as she turned to face him. "Name?"
"Ramon Steel."
"Apartment?"
"Tastefully decorated. Two fifty K a year."
"Vacations?"
"Summer in the Hamptons, Winter in the Med." He smiled. "It's a private
island."
"Favorite sexual position?"
Dammit! "Whatever gives the most pleasure to you," `Ramon' improvised.
She smiled, holding out her hand to be kissed. "Consuella Maris Bettina
Naratalova. I'm the daughter of a European King."
"Which country?" he couldn't help but ask.
She shrugged. "One of the little insignificant ones in the middle. We
have our own mountain range." She sashayed close to him, wrapping an arm
around his waist. "But enough of this small talk. Take me, Mr. Steel.
Let's go to your car"
This was where the game stalled, because while Ramon had a fleet of
convertibles that were soaped down every day by a dedicated team of
community-spirited cheerleaders (the book had said his fantasy persona
should be as specific as possible), the best Xander could do was a grope
in the back of a pizza delivery van. And those boxes had sharp corners.
Then again... the catwalk was deserted. And did the Bible not say
`greater love hath no man than this, that he shall risk public
humiliation and possible arrest to make his girlfriend happy'?
"Why not just have fun here?" he said with what he hoped was a roguish
leer, drawing her back into the shadows.
Anya - Consuella - looked like Christmas Day had arrived five months
early.
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It was safe to go out on a limb and say that grocery shopping was not
one of Xander's favorite activities. Combine that with running into a
certain bleached-blond acquaintance and it could just about add up to
the Worst Friday Ever.
Spike jerked his head in the direction of another aisle. "Shouldn't you
be over there with the rest of the puff pastries?"
"Shouldn't you be having happy vamp-time inside a dust-buster?" he
sniped back.
In total honesty, he kind of admired how Spike could still be so
in-your-face with that neutering chip in his head.
He promised that nothing would ever make him be that honest.
The vampire plucked a pack of cookies from the shelf. It was like the
magic tricks Uncle Rory used to try at Christmas, except this actually
worked - one minute there was a box of cookies, the next it had
disappeared inside the leather duster.
"Are you shoplifting?!" Xander hissed.
Spike's eyes widened to anime proportions. "Heavens, no!" he said.
"People will start to think I'm evil." A packet of breadsticks went the
same route as the cookies.
"Doesn't the chip zap you? I mean, stealing hurts people."
"And I feel Mr. Walmart's pain." He cocked his head to one side. "No,
wait, I don't."
"I'm telling Buffy," Xander said, trying not to feel like he was in
fifth grade again. "I mean, she let you live when you sold us out to
Adam so I think you owe her..." He trailed off. Spike was clearly not
listening to a word. He looked far more interested in the contents of
Xander's shopping cart.
Not going to blush, Xander ordered himself, even as the heat started to
spread across his face. Everybody buys condoms.
And latex gloves.
And whipped cream.
And cucumbers.
The knowing smirk Spike gave him was probably classed as sexual
harassment in most states.
"Quiet night at home, then? Demon girl give you the push?"
"Shut up, Spike," he muttered.
At least if you didn't know what he wanted the rubber bands for, they
looked innocent. No deviant activity here.
Oh, who was he kidding.
He just hoped Spike wouldn't tail him to the hardware store.
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"You have the keys for these, right?" he joked.
The false, manic grin that froze on his girlfriend's face was a
terrifying sight to behold.
"Oh God," he moaned. It took up a chant in his brain. Oh God, oh God, oh
God... maybe some passing deity would take pity on him. Alternatively,
they might decide his calling in life was as a lightning rod. "Anya?
Keys. Keys, Ahn."
"I left them in the van," she said. "I hope."
"You hope?!"
He'd seen her practise that smile. Hell, he'd chosen that smile. She'd
specifically asked him which one he thought most conveyed the impression
`please don't be mad at me. How could you be mad at someone this
adorable?'.
"I'll be right back!" She was already hurrying to where they'd parked
the car.
"Hey! What if there are vampires?"
"Don't worry," she called over her shoulder. "I saw Buffy and Riley when
we pulled up. They must be patrolling the park. Or pretending to be
normal, going on a moonlit stroll, blah di blah."
Xander tried to respond, but he'd forgotten how to speak English.
The summer breeze wafted gently over parts that he didn't really want
wafted. The railings were cold against his ass, but he couldn't pull
away without the cuffs biting into his wrists.
He had a feeling that the next time he had the nightmare about being
naked in front of his entire class, it was going to be taken to a whole
new dimension.
Footsteps behind him. Crap.
He prayed for vampires. Maybe a demon set on making him its immortal
bride.
"Oh my God, Xander?"
The lightning rod option would have been better. "Hey, Buffy, Riley," he
said weakly. "Nice night, huh?"
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A whole year after graduating from Sunnydale High, not having to waste
Sunday night copying Willow's homework was still cool. He could spend
that extra time improving his mind or contemplating his place in the
universe or - okay, he spent it reading the new Starman. But still,
cooler than homework.
Upstairs, he could just about hear Anya greeting his mom, and he
hurriedly tossed the comics under the bed.
When she came down the stairs he was draped over the bed in the most
elegantly casual way he could manage. He liked to show her he was making
an effort to spice things up. The aloof, slightly brooding pose was
based on Angel.
Not that... he'd never... he hadn't imagined Deadboy like that, or had a
dream along those lines, or even given any thought to it. Ever ever
ever.
Anya looked quite pleased to be pounced on.
After a minute he stopped mid-paw, curiosity winning out over horniness
and macho pride. "What's in the bag? Dry-cleaning?"
She undraped the garment bag from over her arm and laid it in the bed.
"Open it."
His hand hovered over the zipper. "Is it a surprise?"
She nodded eagerly. "Since this is your last night as a stupid mortal
teenager, I thought we could do something special."
"Kinda been a special week," he said, but opened the bag anyway.
Had to hand it to her, sometimes Anya got it totally right. "Sexy
nurse's uniform," he said approvingly. "Nice."
She hugged him.
"Wait, isn't it way too big for you?"
She had her insufficient data cannot compute expression. "For me?"
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Waking up aged twenty was surprisingly similar to waking up aged
nineteen and three hundred and sixty-four days. He waited for maturity
to hit him. Yup, any minute now he'd be talking like Giles and planning
on getting a real job, something with security.
After a half hour all that had changed was that he needed to pee. He
padded off to the bathroom, happily concluding that he was never going
to grow up.
When he got back, Anya was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes.
"Happy birthday," she yawned.
He crawled back into the warm space beside her. She snuggled against
him.
"Goodbye stupid mortal teenager, hello stupid mortal twenty-something,"
he announced. The realization hit him all of a sudden: he'd survived his
teenage years. In Sunnydale, that was a hell of an achievement.
Plenty of kids weren't so lucky. He thought about his twelfth birthday,
when Jesse's mom baked a cake because his own mother forgot, and he
unconsciously held Anya a little tighter.
`You're a total freakshow,' Jesse's ghost, frozen forever at sixteen,
said in his mind. `Dude, do not go angsting over me when you have a
hottie like that in bed. Is she naked under there?'
He smiled sadly, and let the memory go. Not something to think about
today.
Anya was indeed completely naked, and between the leg nudging between
his and the soft breasts pressed against his side, he was beginning to
entertain suggestions from little Xander regarding certain illustrations
from that book. There were bunches of things that could be done indoors,
required no equipment and were probably legal in a minimum of thirty
states.
Then again, he couldn't exactly have predicted a year ago that he'd wake
up wrapped around a gorgeous, funny, intelligent woman who wanted to be
his girlfriend. It'd be nice, maybe, to do absolutely nothing for a
while. Just enjoy this. Enjoy her.
"Xander?" Her breath was tickly against his chest. "Now that the ritual
birthday greetings are done, can I go back to sleep?"
Xander kissed the top of her head. "So long as there's cake and presents
in my near future, you do whatever you want, sweetie."
"There'll be cake at the surprise party," she said. "At Buffy's house. I
hope no-one's gift is better than mine."
He grinned at the ceiling. "Surprise party, huh?"
She was already asleep.
END
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