Xander let his arm tighten gently, while his hand drifted slowly across the soft smooth flesh beneath his palm. Slowly he leaned forward to plant a small kiss on the shoulder resting lightly upon his chest.
It took his conscious mind a few minutes to make a few massive mental leaps.
1. There was a distinctively feminine body snuggled up against his.
2. That body was quite definitely naked.
3. So was his.
And the fourth, and most stellar observation his rational mind made was:
4. Opening his eyes fast was very bad. It made his head hurt beyond belief.
"The punch must have been spiked." He muttered, feeling the jackhammer like headache penetrating deeply behind his left eye. As he attempted to open his eyes again, the jackhammer grew louder. Snapping them shut quickly, he knew for certain, "Okay, the punch *was* spiked..." Right then it seemed as if the nerves from head to stomach were directly connected, and the moment he realized he was hungover, his stomach churned for attention.
"I'm going to be sick.." It was a strange new thought-concept, but at that precise moment, Xander could think of nothing else that could bring more comfort.
Slowly opening his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of a lusciously smooth arm, pale throat, and softly exposed jaw. His body, spooned against this woman's, his left arm wrapped possessively across her stomach. Shock overtook him, momentarily silencing all his other problems. "I'm in bed with a woman." It was a rather earth-shattering surprise. It was his biggest adolescent fantasy, and he was too hungover to truly appreciate it.
Unable to decide whether to thank, or curse the person who spiked the punch, one thing was clear. Waking with a woman in ones arms was a singularly enjoyable experience, but one nagging question crept into his conscious mind, "Who?"
His bloodshot eyes swept downwards, visually caressing the slim body concealed by his comforter. "Oh yes, most definitely female," he thought still trying to convince himself of the fact. He felt some memory stirring in the back of his head, and would have appreciated the warnings, had he been capable of rational thought. Finally his gaze settled on the turned head, and gentle wisp of straight red hair.
Red hair.
"Huh. Funny, Willow has hair that colour."
Xander's eyes grew wide as the realization poured through him, and he nearly yelped as his sky came crashing in. Willow. He was hungover, naked and in bed up close and *very* personal with an equally naked Willow. His memory, jolted by shock, decided to kick in a few salient facts about last night.
The party. Walking home. Their laughter, giggling, and joking. His leaning forward to demonstrate what he'd do if he could only once, just once, kiss Buffy and Willow's instinctive protests even as his lips touched hers. The pure physical meltdown after that.
Looking down now at Willow's sleeping form, it took a pure superhuman effort to keep himself from jumping away.
"She'll kill me!" Xander's first gut instinct was slightly more irrational than usual. "Willow, after all," his normally unheard from logical side advised, "wouldn't hurt a flea, and you've got one huge advantage over fleas, she likes you more than them."
Xander ignored that voice, in favor of his terror. What had possessed him to do this to her? No matter what angsty pubescent hormones were ripping through his drunken body, his body should have known better.
She was special, kind, an angel in her own right, and she was his best friend, his gal-pal. He could tell her, and did tell her, everything and anything. They hung together, played together, studied together...hell, they even Christmas shopped together. She was his Willow. Willow was like a..like a....a sister to him. "Willow isn't Buffy, dammit." What the hell was he thinking last night?
He was NOT to get turned on by Willow's scent. He was NOT to be stimulated by her softness, her responsiveness, the way she felt against him when he pulled her into a lovers embrace. The sense of wonder and excitement as he unzipped her dress...
"It's a dream. This is all an alcohol induced dream. It has to be." Pulling his arm slowly away from Willow's firm taut stomach, he cringed as he felt an involuntary shiver of pleasure rip down his spine, and deliberately pinched himself. "Please wake up. Please. Please."
Try as he might, he didn't wake up. However in pulling his body partially upright, Willow's body had rolled backwards, presenting him with a visual temptation. The blanket's didn't slip too low, but the gentle rising slope of her breasts were just hinted at by the way the cover lay across her chest.
It wasn't Playboy, but it sure as hell took his breath away. She looked so relaxed, so vulnerable. So friggin sensuous.
He pulled away quickly, and slipped quietly from the bed, firmly pulling the covers up high and snug over her still sleeping form. Bending down, her groped about the floor for his boxers, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found her bra and panties.
Nearly bolting from the room, his boxers half on, he made it to the bathroom, and the porcelain god it contained just as his stomach relieved itself of it's irritating contents. Sinking slowly down to the floor, he rested his head on his forearm across the seat's rim.
"I seduced my best friend." On a more rational level, he was disgusted with himself. On a more basic level the memories fascinated him, for despite his aching body, and throbbing head, he kept replaying those memories over and over again. He could feel his pulse quicken and breathing become shallower, body tensing in anticipation.
"No, no, no, no!" Try as he might however, he couldn't seem to drop the cycle of memories. The way her hands felt almost electric moving along his back, down his side, and eventually tugging at his zipper...
"Ugh..." Xander pulled himself up off the floor, and stumbled to the sink. Running the cold water, he splashed his face, and then rinsed his mouth a few times.
The medicine cupboard yielded up the Eno. He stirred the antacid into the water, and chugged it back as fast as he could, trying not to gag on the taste. It wasn't an instant cure, but the thought of it in his system helped him tolerate his stomach's nausea. The shower immediately following helped the rest of his body wake up to reality.
Hesitant to return to his room for clothes, he instead wrapped a large towel around his frame, and darted to the laundry room. Luckily, no one else was home, otherwise he would have a lot of explaining to do. "What's to explain, I've seduced my best friend." The memories returned unbidden, in all their glorious details. Groaning in frustration, not only at his own traitorous mind, but the slogging mess that was his stomach, he jerked on a pair of ratty jeans.
It would have been easier if they'd crashed at Willow's house and not his. It would've been so easy to grab his clothes and sneak out of the house before she woke. She would've awoken, to think it all a dream..or nightmare... Everything would've been okay. Maybe. Xander sighed, tossing the towel into the laundry. Even if they'd been at Willow's, he could never do *that* to his friend. "Time to face the music."
Treading barefoot and shirtless to his room, he felt more or less ready to deal with Willow's wrath. "I seduced my best friend, enjoyed it, and now she's just going to kill me." The mantra replayed in his head, thankfully blocking out the rather more interesting images that his subconscious seemed to enjoy replaying over and over again. His headache had diminished to manageable proportions, and his stomach, while not settled, wasn't a biological hazard anymore.
Pushing the door to his room open, he stood in the doorway, unable to move despite himself. The soft sunlight from outside shone through the curtains and cast an almost angelic glow around Willow, sunlight glinting off her red hair like fiery diamonds. Desperately trying to stay calm, silently feeling revulsion at what his body was feeling, he studied her sleeping face, noting the colour in her cheeks, and lips. She looked so soft, so touchable. "So ravished..." his mind whispered gleefully. He squelched the memory of THAT as fast as he could.
Willow's soft moan pulled his thoughts away from introspection. A frown crossed her features, and a softly cried expression of pain from her lips. "No..no..so much blood..so..everywhere...so much..."
Xander frowned, moving closer to the bed. He remembered hearing about Willow's breakdown at seeing the slaughtered remains in the schools AV room...but, that was months ago...was she still having nightmares?
"All dead...blood...blood...blood..." She awoke with a strangled scream, bolting upright, and sobbing. Without hesitation, Xander flew to her side and pulled her into his arms, hugging her, rubbing her back and soothing her with soft sounds.
Her face was buried close into his neck, sobbing in hard uneven gasps. It felt strange to hold her like this, knowing the only thing between her very unclothed body, and him, was a particularly light-weight comforter. But it felt right to offer her support when she needed it. "I should have been there for her after her first breakdown...but no, I went trailing after Buffy." He thought scornfully at himself, momentarily forgetting that he was part of the reason that Buffy was still alive.
Willow's shuddering sobs eased, and she stiffened slightly in his arms. Xander mentally cringed almost anticipating her reaction to last night.
"X-xander?" Her voice was confused. "I don't feel so good."
A light dawned in Xander's head. If he had been plastered, and not of his free will, surely Willow had been too. "Do you feel queasy and sick?" He asked quietly, knowing a loud sound would irritate her head.
The whispered "Yes." was little more than a intake of air.
Without pausing to think, Xander scooped her up, blankets and all, and carried her to the washroom. He was rather glad he had procrastinated by cleaning up his mess in there. Sitting her down on the floor, he crouched behind her, and partially held her upright.
"I know it's really disgusting, but you'll feel better after you..uh, well..you know." His voice trailed off as Willow turned her head to evenly regard him. "The punch was spiked, I'm feeling as rough as you right now," he offered.
"Somehow," Willow said dryly, "I doubt it." She slid her body closer to the toilet. Much in the way he had, she folded her arms across the seat, and rested her head on them. "My head hurts, and I'm not going to be able to eat for a week." She sighed mournfully.
Despite the situation, Xander grinned. Moving away, he dug for the antacid again, and stirred it into a large glass of water. Turning back to Willow, he wasn't startled to find her head tilted on those arms, eyes wide gazing straight at him, knowledge and memory clearly shining in their depths.
"You uh...remember...everything, too." He stammered quietly, passing her the glass, trying desperately to not look her in the eyes. "Ummm...drink this, it'll either make you puke, or settle your stomach."
Taking the glass with one hand, the other secured the edge of the blanket as she sat up. She held the glass in front of her, and eyed the murky contents with a distinctive look of distaste. "I almost think I'd rather die than drink this." Willow sighed heartily, before raising the glass and drinking. She paused mid swallow, and the grimace on her face was truly agonized.
"Aaaaah...what is this stuff?" She choked, spitting some of it out.
Xander tried hard not to laugh at her, but her facial expression had been worth a thousand words, alright. And all of them were dirty bad words. "It's an antacid. If you just slug it back, and don't stop to taste it, it doesn't hurt as much."
"Gaah." She muttered. "Antacid..no way. It's cement mixture, and you pour it down a throat to harden a stomach. It's hard for a stomach to be irritated if it's a solid mass."
This time Xander did laugh, as Willow raised the glass again, and dutifully swallowed it's contents. He quickly retrieved the now empty glass, rinsed it several times, before presenting her with a glass of clean water. "You might want to.." She was already gargling it, before he could finish.
Re-anchoring the blankets, she struggled to stand, and Xander stepped forward to offer her a hand. Guiding her to the sink, he left the room for a moment to return with a large oversized beach towel. "If, you..uh..want, you can..uh...use the shower..." Awkwardly, he held out the towel, his eyes meeting hers briefly.
"We have to talk about this." She offered quietly.
"Yeah." He suddenly found the linoleum tiling fascinating to stare at. He'd never been as self-conscious around Willow as he was right now. Their entire relationship had been turned upside down overnight, and he didn't have a clue what to do. He felt like it was all his fault.
Her hand touched his arm, fingers curling around the bare skin. A casual touch, and yet, in the wake of last night, it disturbed him that he felt...electrified by the contact. "It's not your fault." She murmured in a soft voice.
The corners of his mouth quirked. "Are you psychic or something? You always know what I'm thinking."
Her grip loosened slightly. "Nah..practice." Her smile was genuine, but her eyes were guarded. Sighing, she dropped her gaze and looked around, "Umm. The shower sounds good, but.. uh.. there's a clothing problem."
His mind immediately recalled his room, and her clothes strewn on the floor. "Uh. Yeah. I'll go find something for you..and I'll leave them outside the door..."
He backpedaled fast, shutting the door behind him, totally missing Willow rolling her eyes upward. She reached out and dropped the overhanging cover for the toilet and sat down, almost in shock.
Her greatest fantasy had come true last night, and now she almost wished it hadn't. Xander hadn't really wanted to do 'it' with her. No, in his drunken state, he had envisioned what he would do if he could be with Buffy. Willow bit down hard on her lip to stifle the scream that itched at the back of her throat.
Xander had wanted Buffy. Every touch, every kiss, every caress, all meant for Buffy. The alcohol had lowered their common sense, and that softened the initial anger, somewhat. However it was her strong love for Xander, that kept her from being *truly* angry with him.
It still upset her though how he just had to demonstrate the way he wanted to kiss Buffy on her. He was always using her as the testing ground. He.... "Oh come on, it's not like you resisted all that much, did you?", her subconsious mind supplied happily. "Don't forget, drunk or not, you were a more than *willing* participant."
And that was the truth. The unvarnished and undeniable truth. She could have resited harder, but didn't. When his lips touched hers, she could have pushed him away. Could have told him No. Instead, she pulled him closer, kissing him all that much harder.
There was no doubt about it, his intentions aside, she *had* been willing. Even though she wished that it hadn't happend, she was not sorry that it did. "But at what cost?" She thought to herself.
Oh God, what a nightmare. He'd never be able to face her, never be able to tell all his greatest fantasies, darkest secrets or his ups and downs. All because some moron had to spike a punchbowl. She dropped her head into her hands, and repressed the urge to cry. She knew that if she did, Xander would come running back in and attempt to comfort her.
That would just hurt too much. Besides, her head hurt, her stomach hurt, and her best friend was going to alienate her, she didn't need to feel anymore pain. Could her first morning after get any worse?
Standing up slowly, she let the blanket fall away, and deliberately didn't look down. Hanging the towel on the bar that backed the shower's sliding doors, she stepped inside, and adjusted the water. As the streaming water hit her face and mingled with the now forming tears, she started praying for miracles.
* * *
The cupboards, as usual, were bare. Xander slumped down into a kitchen chair, and cursed, not for the first time, his family's lack of family behavior. If there was any one thing he had wanted for his future, it was to be part of a big, very loving family.
Somewhat like Willow's family, even though they weren't all that big. What they lacked in size however, they sure made up in love, and Xander had always cherished Willow's home when they were little. For Sarah Rosenberg had always treated, and still treated, Xander like he was her own son, making snacks just for him, always ensuring there was a present or two under their Christmas tree for him, and never neglecting to give him something special for his birthday.
She had been more of a mother to him than his biological mother. His mother was too busy bustling about to think of "quality time". Dinner involved a phone and a twenty dollar bill. Groceries? Never happened.
Xander leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. His mind consumed with the kind of deep thoughts he usually preferred to avoid. Thoughts of the woman who was like a mother to him. Really, Sarah Rosenberg was the only mother he had ever known. How would he be able to look her in the eyes, knowing what he did to Willow, yet keeping it a secret from her? It gnawed at him. He felt as if he had betrayed her somehow.
The thunk-click of the pipes told him Willow had shut the shower off, and his response was pure tension. He knew she was going to insist on talking about this, and that frightened him. He could almost hear the "I don't think I want to hang around you anymore. It would just be too awkward. But, of course, we'll always be friends!"
Her friendship was the most precious thing he had. It wasn't until he woke to this nightmare that he realized that. It made him think of how much he'd been taking Willow for granted. How she had been at his side so long that she'd become partially invisible to him. Oh, how humiliating must it have been for her to be his "asking Buffy out" sounding board?
He felt ashamed of himself. It was a testemant of her inner strength that she had even bothered to stand by him, and hadn't hated him for his insensitivity, that she hadn't left him already. Oh God, what would he do if she ditched him?
Impatiently, he jumped up and stalked to the phone. The list on the board beside the phone was of fast-food, take out and delivery food places, which encompased breakfasts, lunches and dinners. He chose one at random, dialed, making sure to order enough for both him and Willow, taking special care that none of it was greasy stomach-upsetting foods.
Hanging up the phone, he turned to find himself looking straight into the dark eyes of his best friend. Her sudden appearance, with no warning sound, made him jump backwards, smacking his head into the overhanging cupboard. "Owww!" Xander bent forward, one hand reaching instinctively to the injury.
Willow's hands got there first, one arm across his chest and supporting him as his knees began to cave, and the other lightly probing his head. "You're going to have a bump." She warned. Her grip shifted, an arm slipping around the waist, as she led him back to the chair.
Sinking down, Xander watched as she reached for a clean dishcloth, and fetched some ice from the freezer. Making a light ice-pack, she applied it to his head, scolding him when he flinched.
It was so weird. After last night, he wasn't seeing "plain-old Willow". No, this young woman was just that, a woman. A kind, considerate, lovely young woman. Who, in his mother's never worn work-out leggings, and his oversized t-shirt, had a killer figure. Where had she been hiding that body?
They stayed silent for a long moment. Willow checking the compress, and changing the ice as it melted, and Xander trying to sort out his thoughts. He was, he admitted, making a terrible hash of it all.
Last night, even at his worst, he'd never confused Willow with Buffy. He had demonstrated how he WANTED to kiss Buffy, but what had happened between him and Willow had been just that, between him and Willow. And it confused him.
Seeing her now, after it all...he was more confused. Was this the after-effects of "a first time"? Or was what he was feeling real? Did he really think of Willow in this way? Or, was that just hormonal responses?
Or, more importantly, was she still his friend?
His mournful sigh got her attention, and Willow broke the stillness. "Are you okay?"
"No." Xander admitted. "But it's not the bump on my head bothering me, or the headache, or my stomach."
Willow closed her eyes for a long moment, before pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. "It's about last night."
"Yeah."
She pulled a hand across her temple, thumb and index finger wearily rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "Look, I know I'm not Buffy..."
Xander cut her off with a wave of his hand. "This isn't about Buffy. Who gives a crap what Buffy thinks about this. This is about us. You and me. Our friendship."
Her eyes dropped closed again, and her head tilted back in a stretch. She looked at him again, weariness, fear and other unidentifyable emotions in those dark eyes. Willow's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Finally she stood up and stalked to the sink.
"What about our friendship?" Her words were deliberately even. No inflection, no sign of weakness. Purposefully calm.
"I hate this." His answer was unexpected, and she spun around eyes wide in horror. "I hate this situation. I hate feeling like I've just taken a 16 year friendship and trashed it because of booze. I hate feeling like I'm about to watch my best friend walk out the door and never face me again."
The ice pack fell to the table-top, forgotten, and Xander's head and shoulder's slumped forward, dejection his very pose. It was less than a heartbeat before Willow's hands were in his, and she knelt beside him.
"I'm not going to just give up on our friendship because of that." She said with a sigh. "But I was sure you were." Her fingers squeezed his. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't regret last night. I mean, I knew I'd, y'know..sleep with a guy some day. It's kind of nice to know my first time was with someone who was in the same boat. And is my friend." Who I love, she added silently to herself.
The blush on Xander's cheeks spoke volumes. "I...."
She gave a slightly wicked giggle, "And think of the bonus, Xander...no more preying mantis attacks!"
Xander's jaw dropped, and his face went absolutely red with mortification. He tried to make a quick come-back, to think of anything witty, to voice the tidal wave of relief to hear his friend tease him, but, the only words his flustered mind could summon up was a strangled "Will-looooow!"
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