Title: *gasp* Doesn't have one.
Fandom/paring: BtVS, and it's Xanderbabble with slashy Spike thoughts.
Rating: FRT, I guess.
Summary: Xander's thoughts on being gay, and certain blue eyed vampires.
Feedback? Oh yes please, I crave it. Constructive criticism is always welcome, either in comments or my email (smart_e_pants917 at yahoo dot com) if you'd like.
Word Count: A whopping 828
A/N: I don't really like it, but I need to get my fic writing into gear so it's a start. Aaaalso, if it's passable (I wont even pretend to say 'good'), do you think it goes with the mood 'thoughtful' for the Spander mood ring?
Right. Let me just start this little narrative off by stating firmly that I am not gay. Not, not, not. Never was, never will be, and whoever tells you otherwise is lying. Or dead. So I guess they wouldn’t be able to lie would they, unless of course they were vamps, in which case they wouldn’t be believed anyway, ‘cause everyone knows that all vampires are big lying mosquitoes whose only purpose is to meet a very quick end on the pointy end of a stake…and I’m babbling aren’t I?
Point is, not gay. Oooh, no. Kay, there was that one kiss with Jesse freshman year…but then he got vamped and staked by yours truly, and there’s nothing that can kill a (almost) homosexual love fest with your best friend faster than putting a sharpened piece of wood through said best friend’s heart and watching him explode into tiny dust fragments. And I am not being figurative here. Sure, then there was the whole Larry fiasco, but that was totally him macking on me. Plus, he wound up dead too. So you can see why the whole being gay thing would definitely not work for me.
Not that I am. I mean, I’ve had girlfriends. Plenty of girlfriends…well, two. With breasts! And other girl parts as well. I had sex with Anya, who is a girl, and I liked it, so there’s no way some bleached menace with a blood habit is gonna change anything.
Except he did, and he has, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.
I mean, it’s not like I can just walk up to him and say, “Hey, Spike, I know that you have this sort of love-obsession thing going with Buffy, but really, she’s never gonna look at you that way, sorry buddy. Oh, but hey! I’m here, and I might very possibly be queer, so whaddya say to heading back to my place for a little experimenting?” Yeah. That one should go over just great. I’m sure he’d answer, “Why sure, Xan, let us hop on the good foot and do the bad thing, and yes I know I sound a lot like Austin Powers, but it’s only because I secretly adore him in all his tacky wonder.” Yep. Uh-huh. And maybe pigs will fly…though on the Hellmouth I’m not quite sure that isn’t a possibility.
Whatever. I know that if I could just talk to someone it would help…just like I know I wont even consider it. Really, the only person who would even come close to understanding what I’m going through, it would be Willow, but that’s only when you factor in the whole I-might-be-gay thing. Add the whole fantasizing about Spike thing and I just don’t think that Willow, sweet as she is, could bring herself to support it. Not that I blame her. I might just be the biggest non-supporter of the big vamp-lovin’ that I’ve ever met, which makes this whole thing sorta ironic, when you think on it. I mean, back when Buffy was going through her ‘Oh, how I love Angel, the big broody broodvamp’ faze; I was the one who kept telling her how wrong it is. She’s the slayer of vampires; she’s not supposed to fall for one! And then what do I do? I go and have a big gay epiphany all over our resident vamp, who doesn’t even have a soul to make him be all good and helpful. All he has is a chip that zaps him whenever he tries to hurt a human, and you better believe that it zaps a hell of a lot more when I’m around than not. As soon as he gets rid of the thing—and he will, Spike has the most persistent personality I’ve ever seen—I’m sure he’ll make his first meal out of yours truly. Unless I’m one of the lucky people that he feels need a good torture session before death. Yee-haw.
I know what I need to do. I need to find myself a nice, gayish man to experiment with. Someone who knows the ropes and isn’t likely to laugh himself silly when I suggest that we go back to my place for a little one-on-one action. Someone who knows how to be discreet...and who isn’t some sort of demon that may or may not want to a, suck my blood, or b, eat my brains. Oh, yeah, it’s happened. I am a demon magnet, after all. So yeah, a nice, discreet, human guy. Of course, the chances of me finding someone like that here are slim to none, but on the off chance that I do, I’ll be prepared. Who knows? Maybe it will happen, and my nice, discreet, human guy will make me forget all about bleach blond hair and eyes so blue looking into them is like falling into the sky.
…I already used the flying pigs line, didn’t I?