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Cicirossi
Joss Whedon is God and owns all. It's still his world, although we like to sneak in the side door and cover Xander with chocolate sauce and whipped cream when no one's looking.
Of course, it was only, like, five-thirty in the morning. So Xander had to wait at least three hours to go see Willow. If he stayed in the house he would eat every bit of chocolate he had left, though, so he grabbed his keys and his jacket and headed out for Denny's. An enormous slam breakfast would make the world seem right again. Eggs, hash browns, unidentifiable breakfast meat, and he would just hope he didn't meet up with any of the guys from work.
Breakfast didn't make him feel better. In fact, it made him sick as a dog, sitting in his stomach like lead. Wasn't like him at all. Of course, maybe the lead in his tummy was dread. Ooh, that rhymed, kinda. He really, really didn't want to tell Willow about the whole hands on Spike thing. But he had to. Because bad things happened when he and Willow didn't talk, and she could understand. And she wouldn't tell Buffy. At least, he hoped she wouldn't. That would be mean, and Willow wasn't mean by nature.
Checking his watch, Xander realized he had time to stop back by his apartment and take some antacids or something. By the time he got there, he was sweating and shaking and trying not to make an unspeakable mess in his car. He barely made it to the bathroom in time because the lock on his front door stuck a bit, and it picked that very moment to become really stubborn. That's what he got for calling in sick, wasn't it? Karma, no doubt. Nice floor. Cool, tile floor. Once he felt like his eyeballs were no longer trying to crawl out of his head, Xander got up and brushed his teeth, then staggered off towards the bedroom.
Or at least that's where he thought he was going. So why was he in the kitchen? The last thing he needed on a touchy stomach was more chocolate. But that was really the only thing that sounded appealing. With a fatalistic shrug, Xander pulled out another Chocolate Hurricane and plunked it into the microwave to heat for ten seconds. Wolfing it down actually settled his system down a bit. After a few minutes of digestion, he felt normal again. Wow, somebody needed to do a paper on the effects of chocolate consumption and the digestive tract.
Falling into bed and dying was no longer necessary, so Xander checked his watch (it was seven-thirty, woo and hoo) and decided Willow would probably be up, having seen Dawn off to school. Might as well get it over with.
Willow was indeed awake, even if she was endearingly goofy. But that was good, because maybe she wouldn't be sharp enough to really register what he was saying. She poured him orange juice, and sat down with her cup of herbal something-or-other, and he sat too, pushing the orange juice off to one side with a grimace.
"So," Willow started, "what's with you? You look all serious, and worried, and shouldn't you be at work?"
That little up-twist she put on the end of her questions was so cute. Xander knew there was a reason Willow was his best friend. And he was avoiding the subject, wasn't he? Okay, deep breath, he thought. Just blurt it out. How bad can it be?
"I called in sick. Because I was. Sick. To my stomach."
"Which explains why you're here at not quite eight in the morning."
"Right." Xander fidgeted. He tapped the counter. He swung his leg. Willow just looked at him steadily until he was ready to scream. "What would you say if I told you I had a sexual encounter with a man?"
Blink. She blinked. Was that good or bad? "I would say, welcome to the club? I mean, now we've both had both. Or something like that. Because that would make you feel more at ease, and then I could ask you how you felt about it, because that's probably the real problem."
"Well, it's not so much the guy thing, believe it or not. Although that is odd. But I figure, in the dark you can't tell much of a difference, right, I mean between hands at least and we never got beyond that." Xander trailed off because Willow was blinking again, and he could see the monumental effort it was costing her not to go into sympathetic woman face and just wait for him to finish.
"What's weirder than that?" she asked.
"The encounter?" She nodded. He continued. "It was with Spike."
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