The Alley
The music was slow and druggy, a pulsating beat that hit you right in the guts and traveled down to your shoes and up through your head. It slipped through discordant harmonies and melodies that seemed almost tangential to the throbbing bass line that demanded a sultry dance, a sexy dance, a dance that Xander was completely unable to pull off.
Buffy and Angel, however, were in complete control of the dance floor. She slithered against him, he traced the line of her back and tangled one hand in her hair, pulling slightly so that she had to look up at him. She was radiant in the club lights, he was dark, black-hole like. An expanse of nothingness that she touched, embraced, stroked with soft possessive hands. The other dancers seemed to give them space, perhaps subconsciously deferring to the passion that was only briefly hinted at.
Xander also watched, helplessly, slouched in the shabby couch that reeked of beer and food and sweat. He fixated on the little details - the sparkling rings on Buffy's hand, a flash of white T-shirt peeping out from Angel's sweater, the curve of a hip, a firm thigh, the narrowness of male waist and strength of neck. He shifted irritably as Buffy's hand slid down Angel's side, rested for a moment on his hip, then traced its way upwards to his chest. Xander noticed this, and his hand twitched involuntarily, rubbing against his leg in tandem with the pale hand caressing Angel's chest. His eyes narrowed as Angel dipped his head to catch Buffy's mouth in a kiss.
"Xander!"
He jumped guiltily and glared at Willow, who was standing there looking faintly peeved. "Will, what the hell? Don't sneak up on me like that!"
"Sneak up on you?" Willow rolled her eyes and settled on the couch next to him, propping her feet on the low table in front. "Xander, you were totally spaced out, I've been trying to talk to you all night. What are you staring at?"
"Staring?" Xander shrugged, and glared at the dance floor. "Nothing, just - well, look at them!" He flung out a hand angrily. "She's all over him! Dancing like some kind of a - a - well, dancing wrong."
Willow, completely puzzled, followed his hand to see Buffy and Angel. Her face cleared, and she smiled softly. "It's nice, isn't it? To see them so happy?"
"Nice? Are you kidding? It's embarrassing, the way she keeps touching him like that."
"Like how? They're just dancing, Xander. Everyone dances."
Xander shook his head vehemently. "Not like they are. They..." He stopped, transfixed, as Buffy and Angel turned so that Angel's back was to them, and he was struck by how Angel's slacks hung just so, accenting his legs and rear. "Look at those pants, Will. Do they have to be so tight? I mean, what's he trying to prove?"
Willow tilted her head, and smiled appreciatively . "I think they look good on him."
"Good, nothing. They look fantastic," Xander grumbled. "Why does he have to wear those, doesn't he know what kind of message he's sending?"
"Angel?" Willow said. "What kind of message?"
"You know, that message. The one that says 'Hey, I'm buff, and tight, all sexy-like.'" Willow stared at him, completely befuddled. "I mean, look at that butt - it's all toned. And his arms - could they BE more muscular?"
"Xander," Willow said carefully. "I thought you were over the whole Buffy thing."
Xander blinked. "I am."
"You sure? 'Cause you're sounding all jealous and, well, weird."
"I'm not jealous, Will. I just..." He sighed and ran a hand over his head. "I dunno. I just look at him sometimes, and... I guess he reminds me of everything I'm never gonna be, you know?" Everything, he added mentally. Handsome, suave, gorgeous...
Willow smiled sympathetically. "I get that. I mean look at Buffy - I gave up comparing myself to her a long time ago." She was silent for a moment, as they both watched the couple in question slowly end their dance, wrapped in each other's arms. "But, one thing I've learned recently, with everything that we've been through, is that every person has something that's painful to them, you know? Something that makes them unsure about themselves. And, now that I know that, I'm more confident."
"Yeah, maybe." Xander shrugged. "But that's not..." He broke off as Buffy and Angel walked up to them.
"Hey, look, it's both my buds!" Buffy smiled at her friends and sat down on the other side of Xander. "Boy, I'm parched. Anyone up for a refreshing beverage of the carbonated kind?"
Xander jumped up. "I'll get it." He brushed past Angel, lightly rocking the vampire back with a none-too-subtle shove, and stomped away.
Angel frowned, following the boy's angry progress to the bar. "He seems a little miffed."
Willow nodded, brow furrowed. "He's been weird all night."
"Well, Xander's always been a little off the norm, right?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah," Willow replied. "But this was different. I mean, at first I thought it was the other thing, you know? The old thing."
Buffy smiled softly. "Angel jealousy?"
"Yeah," Willow said. "But I'm not sure if it isn't something else."
"What?" Angel asked.
Willow shrugged helplessly. "I can't put my finger on it, really. Just something different."
"He was pretty intense earlier," Angel said. "I got the feeling he was staring at us."
"At us?" Buffy asked, surprised. "I mean, he's never been big with the two of us as a couple, but he hasn't been really out with it lately."
Willow shook her head. "No, Angel, it wasn't the two of you as much as it was just you."
Angel stared at her. "Me alone?"
"Yeah, he kept talking about you. You know, your clothes and stuff."
Angel took this in for a minute. "Look, I'll be right back," he said, leaning down to give Buffy a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Where's he going?" Buffy wondered. "Xander doesn't like talking to him just on general principles."
Willow gazed after the vampire. "I don't know."
Angel strode through the Bronze, right up to Xander. "Come on," he growled, grabbing the boy by his shirt collar. "We're going outside." He didn't give Xander a chance to struggle as he hauled him out the door.
Once in the alley, however, Xander broke free and shoved Angel right in the chest. "What?! What is it?"
"You tell me," Angel growled. "I'm done with watching you mope over Buffy and glare daggers at me for being with her."
"You're done? You're DONE?" Xander laughed, a little out of control. "How about I'M done? I am so through with you being here, showing up at the library, at the Bronze, at my places. I'm tired of how you walk, how you talk, how you fucking look!"
"Really?" Angel's voice was deathly calm. "How I walk? How I talk?" He took a step towards Xander. "How I look?" Another step. Xander backed up, the first hint of something like fear in his eyes. "What is it, exactly, about how I look that's gotten you so bothered, Xander? The height? The clothes?" A final step, crowding Xander against the wall. "Tell me. Exactly."
Xander swallowed as he almost-felt Angel's body against his, the merest microns of space between him. "I... it's... I just...." He started involuntarily as Angel leaned in, trapping him with one hand against the wall. His heart was pounding, and he flushed with shame as a wave of something hot and trembly swept over him, centering low in his belly. His mind whirled, seeking desperately for a response, even as it treacherously noticed the smooth paleness of Angel's skin and the spicy scent of his cologne. "It's your coat," he blurted.
Angel's mouth quirked. "My coat?"
"It's leather," Xander continued feebly. His hand, seemingly of its own volition reached out and stroked the leather. "It's soft, and black, and you know, leather." Oh god, he thought. Oh god, what am I doing? His hand slipped inside the coat and brushed Angel's sweater, lightly tracing the chest beneath. "And you always wear these tight clothes that show off... stuff."
Angel tilted his head, catching Xander's eyes. "Why do I get the feeling that it's not Buffy and me as much as it's just... me?" he asked softly, seemingly ignoring the hand that was now resting flat on his chest.
"And your hair," Xander continued as if he hadn't heard Angel's question. "And your eyes, and why," his voice broke slightly. "Why do you have to be so damned perfect? Why do you have to look so good and smell so good all the time?" He jerked his head up and stared straight into Angel's eyes, his own a mix of anger, frustration and longing. "It's not fair."
Angel was perfectly still except for his eyes, which blinked lazily as he looked back at Xander. "I've had two hundred years of experience, Xander."
"Experience?" Xander was horrified to find that his other hand was now lightly tracing Angel's stomach, brushing up and down the soft cotton.
"Of many kinds, and I think I know what's going on here," Angel said. "You're angry, but mostly you're confused about things in your life, about..."
Xander shook his head slowly. "No. I'm not confused about anything. I hate you more than I can say." He spoke softly, but his hands gripped Angel's waist now with fierce intensity. "I loathe the ground you walk on, I mourn for the space you occupy. You are the reason for everything bad that's happened recently, and I can't wait until Buffy finally stakes your ass." And with that, Xander leaned in and kissed him.
Cold lips, hard body, and Angel wasn't moving away. Xander increased the pressure of the kiss, simultaneously pulling himself closer to the hard body that was frozen in front of him. One hand slipped around Angel's back, gripping hard, as the other slid down to squeeze a leg, the back of a thigh. A small, faintly heard part of his mind was standing back in sheer horror at his own actions, but the rest was screaming at him to lick, to suck, to bite, to rub.
Angel wrenched his head back, his eyes wide in shock. "Xander..." he started, but the boy gave him no chance as he attacked the open mouth, slipping his tongue inside as he began to thrust erratically against Angel's body.
God, god, god, this is good, Xander though incoherently. He was hard all over, and Angel was hard everywhere but where Xander needed him to be. Xander increased the pressure below and moved off of Angel's mouth to lick at his neck, so tantalizingly near.
"Xander, stop," Angel said, but he was running his hands through Xander's tousled sweaty hair, cradling the back of his head, directing it to that spot on the side of his neck that needed to be nibbled on right then.
Xander nibbled. Xander licked with sweeps of his tongue and his hands were everywhere, gripping, squeezing, tracing the line of back and tautness of muscle. He dragged his tongue up Angel's neck, nibbled on the underside of his chin, and returned to that tantalizing mouth. His hips were moving of their own volition, and there was at last something to rub against, there were hands in his hair pulling lightly, and there was a greedy tongue in his mouth, wrecking him with deliberate thoroughness.
Angel took over the kiss, sucking on Xander's tongue and pressing him against the alley wall, legs pushing against legs, chest against chest, mouth against mouth. He reached down and grabbed Xander's hips, pulling them forward to increase the friction that he suddenly needed so much. He fumbled with the button on the front of Xander's jeans and...
"Angel?"
They broke apart, gasping, as Buffy's voice carried in the night air.
"Angel, are you out here? Did you find Xander?"
She was coming closer. Xander and Angel stared at each other in shock. "Buffy," Xander whispered, despair twisting his face into a horrible grimace. His lips were wet from Angel's kisses, and the cold air seemed to beat at his overheated body. "Oh god, Buffy."
"Xander, "Angel started, but there was no time to say anything. Xander turned and ran down the alley, passing Buffy and Willow, who had just turned the corner.
"Xander?" Willow called, and turned to go after him, but stopped at Angel's voice.
"Willow, I wouldn't. I'd wait," Angel said. "Xander's not - he doesn't want to talk to anyone right now."
Willow took a step towards Angel. "Did you say something? Did the two of you..." she swallowed. "Fight? Angel, did you hurt Xander?"
"No!" Angel replied hurriedly. Then, softer, "No. I didn't harm him."
"But something happened," Buffy said. "What?"
Angel looked down at her, and she was surprised at the utter blankness of his face. "We had a man-to-man moment. Some things were made clear. Leave it be, Buffy." He turned his head to take in Willow's pale face. "Both of you. Don't bring this up to him. Leave him alone for now."
At home, in his own bed, filled with shame and still the hot lust, Xander lay wide awake, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. "Oh god," he whispered, and that phrase meant everything and nothing, all at once.