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Flow by Rubywisp Pairing: Xander/Lindsey Rating: R Summary:Xander and Lindsey grow closer, and Angel says something he shouldn't. Sequel to Letting Go. Spoilers: Buffy through the end of Season Five, very minor spoilers for Angel through the end of Season Two. Distribution: My site, list archives. You want it, email me. Disclaimer: Joss is God, Numfar owns all. --- Xander stands in the parking lot of Caritas and stares at Lindsey's truck. Glances at the door to the club and then back to the truck, runs his hand along the tailgate. Wavers between giddy relief and limb-numbing panic. At least the truck means Lindsey's inside, which is good. Xander thinks it may be good, anyway -- he's not sure. Not understanding what's going on around him, or even in his own head, seems to be a recurring theme lately. He went home three weeks ago, took his so-brand-new-it's-still-in-the-wrapper relaxed attitude and tried to share it with his friends. Explained how always trying to walk the people-pleasing line was shredding him to the bone and that he needed to do things differently. Received various levels of support and bemused acceptance from all of them. Xander wasn't surprised by their reactions, for the most part. He knows he doesn't have a reputation for deep introspection or thoughtful life changes. Doesn't expect them to know that this is real, that he's serious. Isn't quite sure how he knows it, which is also unsurprising. Anya, however -- Anya amazed him. Anya understood immediately that Different Xander meant there would be no wedding. He'd argued and protested in vain. She just smiled sadly and shook her head. Waited until he finished with "but I love you, Ahn" and then pointed out quietly that he'd never once said he wanted to be married. Not get married -- be married, with all that implied. Reminded him that all she wants is a house, a dog, a couple of kids and a minivan. Asked if he could say the same. Discovering he couldn't shocked him speechless. Xander shakes his head at the memory -- he still doesn't understand. He knows it hurt Anya -- he held her while she cried. But he was forced to stand by and watch helplessly as she picked herself up out of his arms, wiped the tears away and started packing. Wasn't allowed to do anything except offer her a ride to Buffy's house when Willow agreed to let her stay for a while. Accepted the kiss good-bye and her key to the apartment with a sinking feeling in his gut and his own tears on his face. Xander wonders when, exactly, he stopped being in control of his own life. He's not even in L.A. voluntarily -- Giles needed something delivered to Angel and Xander was elected because he had a couple of days off from work. He casts another glance at the door to Caritas, remembers his overwhelming reaction to Lindsey -- farther away from 'in control' than anything he's ever known. Maybe it's time he took charge of his life instead of being swept along by circumstances. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, tries to think clearly. All he wants to do is go in the club, find Lindsey, drag him outside and pick up where they left off. But what he feels when he thinks about Lindsey, the ache that burns in his fingertips and makes the bottoms of his feet cold, scares the hell out of him. Maybe he should just leave, go back to Angel's and then home tomorrow. Try to get some perspective on... everything. The loss of Anya that doesn't feel so much like a loss as it does an opportunity, which confuses him. His want for Lindsey that's so strong Xander's pretty sure it's not wanting, but needing, and how can you need somebody you don't even know? Yet more proof that he's not in control. Back to the Hyperion it is, then. Opens his eyes to find Lindsey two feet away and staring at him with a crooked grin. "You didn't have to wait in the parking lot -- could've come inside, you know," Lindsey teases. Suddenly, being in control looks like a highly overrated concept. Xander gulps and exhales before answering. "Um... what?" Oh, that's good. Xander 'my middle name is Moron' Harris, at your service, ladies and gentlemen. "Oh." He chuckles. "Nah, just got here, actually," he lies. Lindsey's grin widens and Xander wonders exactly how long he's been standing there. "You do have great timing, then. I just finished my set." Xander's heart skips a beat as he realizes Lindsey's making a reference to something Xander said last time he was here. He remembered... Fuck. Me. His cock stirs, liking that suggestion. Either that or Lindsey's sudden closeness as he moves to put his guitar case in the back of the truck. Both, Xander decides when Lindsey doesn't move away. His breathing is shallow as he stares at Lindsey and fights the urge to lean down and slide his tongue along Lindsey's full bottom lip. Remembers how soft those lips are and feels himself grow hard. Has just about made up his mind to do it when Lindsey speaks. "Did you get your whatever-it-was worked out all right?" With an almost visible effort, Xander drags his attention away from Lindsey's mouth. "Huh? Um... yeah." Nods his head and tries to breathe normally. "I did, actually." Frowns. "Well, I think it turned out all right. Still trying to figure that part out. But it is taken care of. Problem solved and everything's..." Stops when he notices Lindsey looking amused; makes a face and shrugs. "Sorry. I've been known to babble. It's not so bad once you get used to it." Panics at the implications in that sentence and starts to backpedal. "Not that... I mean, you don't necessarily have to -" The rest of the sentence is lost when Lindsey leans in and covers Xander's mouth with his own. Xander has enough time to think that being swept along by circumstances may be the best way to live his life after all before the world spins and the only thing he's aware of is Lindsey, whose mouth is just as hot and slick and firm as Xander remembers. He threads his hands in Lindsey's hair and pulls him closer, slides his tongue hungrily between those perfect lips and... heh. Lindsey still moans when Xander sucks on his tongue. Still tastes like scotch, too. Lets go of Lindsey's head, slides his hands down, the hard muscles of Lindsey's back easing the ache he's felt in his palms for the last three weeks. Tilts his head back and pants roughly as Lindsey bites and sucks his way along Xander's neck to his Adam's apple, leaving tiny fires blazing in the wake of his mouth. Moans when he feels Lindsey's hands, smooth against his skin, skimming over his torso and up, pulling at his nipples gently. Slips his hands into the pockets of Lindsey's jeans and pulls them even closer together, a groan escaping him as Lindsey's erection is pressed tightly against his own. His brain explodes into a whirling maelstrom of color and noise and he can feel the light from the streetlamp against his eyelids when Lindsey starts grinding against him. He gasps and bucks and spins Lindsey around and up against the truck, keeping his body tilted away. Buries his face in Lindsey's neck as he chokes out, "Have to stop..." "Uh huh," Lindsey grins and reaches for him; Xander lets himself be pulled close again. "You sure 'bout that?" Xander shudders, grabs Lindsey's arms and pins them against the truck. "No, really... stop now or we're, uh..." Snorts, laughing at himself. "We stop or we're finished, man." Pulls in a deep, quick breath when he feels Lindsey's tongue drag wetly along his neck. "I'm..." Swallows heavily. "I am speaking English here, right?" Lindsey chuckles and bites Xander's earlobe once, softly, before wriggling out of his grasp and moving away from the truck. "Yeah. I got it." Shrugs, looks at Xander with a smirk, eyes twinkling. "I've been accused of being a tease." "I'm shocked, really," Xander says dryly, but he can't help grinning. "Look...I'm..." Coughs, embarrassed. "Sorry. I just. This is all..." Exhales slowly, trying to relax. Oh, hell -- might as well be honest. "New. This is pretty new to me," he admits, then flushes. "The... you. Being a guy, and..." he trails off, waving a hand vaguely in Lindsey's direction. Lindsey's eyebrows go up in surprise. "How new?" he asks carefully. Xander thrusts his hands in his pockets. He's sure his blush is glaringly obvious, even in the dim light. "Honestly? About as new as it gets." "Son of a bitch," Lindsey murmurs. Xander stares at the asphalt beneath his feet rather than see the derision he's sure he'll find on Lindsey's face. "I... jeez. I'm sorry. Look, I'm just gonna go-" "What? No!" Lindsey reaches out and puts a hand on Xander's arm. "No... don't... I..." Takes a deep breath, exhales. "Stay. Please." Xander looks up, confused. "I thought..." Doesn't know how to put it into words. "You thought I freaked." Lindsey grins wryly, shrugs. "I did. For a second. Sorry." Rubs his hand up and down Xander's arm and Xander shivers. "You just surprised me. It's cool." "OK." And maybe Xander should say something else, but he can't imagine how he's supposed to be able to think with Lindsey touching him, much less speak, so he doesn't. Just watches Lindsey watching him, feeling something smooth and hot and liquid curling in his chest and maybe, just maybe, Lindsey feels it too. If that look in his eyes means anything. A look like Xander's something -- the word 'special' pops into Xander's head, but... Whatever it is, nobody's ever looked at him quite like that before. Xander thinks he could get drunk off that look alone. Look, Ma -- no booze. The door to Caritas bursts open and both men jerk, startled. A pair of slime demons exit, chattering loudly. Xander wonders again how far the safe zone around the club extends. He never did find out last time he was here. Opens his mouth to ask - "Hey -- you want to go somewhere else, talk??" Lindsey asks before he can speak. Still rubbing Xander's arm and it's a struggle to put his mouth into gear. "Huh?" Xander winces. This conversation brought to you courtesy of the word 'inarticulate', boys and girls. "Um, yeah. Yeah, sure." Lindsey digs in his pockets, pulls out a set of keys. Looks around the parking lot. "You got a car, or..." Xander nods in the direction of his car. "Did the walking thing already, decided to join the 21st century this time." Lindsey grins and moves to open the door of his truck. "Follow me?" "Sure." Xander starts to walk toward his car, stops. "Hey -- where are we going, anyway?" Lindsey looks perplexed. "Uh... hmm." Thinks, frowning, and Xander can see him mentally sorting and discarding options. "We could go to my place," he suggests. Xander feels a surge of panic and guesses it shows on his face, because Lindsey starts talking fast. "Look, I'm not trying to set you up here. Just thought it'd be nice to be someplace quiet." Lindsey holds his hands up at Xander's skeptical look. "That's it, I swear." Xander studies Lindsey's face for a minute, feels like he's at some kind of crossroads and maybe what he does next will be important beyond conversation and dinner. Doesn't feel equipped to look at it too closely right now, isn't sure he wants to anyway. Whatever. Going with the flow's worked so far. "Cool. Let's go." Unlocks his door, turns to face Lindsey again. "I wouldn't... wouldn't necessarily object..." Grins and then ducks his head, embarrassed, shy. "It's just... a little much right now." "No problem. Look -- we can make something to eat, maybe have a couple of drinks so neither one of us implodes from the tension." Lindsey smiles and Xander smiles back, relieved to know Lindsey's maybe as nervous as he is. "You said the magic words -- offer to feed me and I'll follow you anywhere. Lead on, MacDuff," he says flippantly. "I'll have to remember that," Lindsey murmurs with a grin as he gets in his truck. --- Forty minutes later, Xander is trying not to gape too obviously as he parks his car. He'd figured Lindsey probably had money -- lawyers tend to, he thinks with a snort -- but this... Xander feels a twinge of inadequacy at the all-too-obvious difference between 'rich lawyer guy' and 'not-rich construction worker guy' as he stares at the spacious, airy beach house in front of him. A knock on the car window breaks his reverie. "Hey -- you want to eat, you're gonna have to actually get out of there and come inside." Lindsey grins at him through the window. Xander blinks and tries to shake off the insecurity he's suddenly swimming in as he gets out of the car. He locks the door -- out of habit more than any real worry that someone will try to steal it in this neighborhood -- and rubs his hands nervously on his jeans. "Nice house." Lindsey walks toward the house, guitar case in hand. "Yeah, it is. Belongs to a former client." Unlocks the front door and goes inside, flips the light on, then shuts and locks the door behind Xander. Explains as he leans his guitar against the wall, "I didn't need cash as much as I needed a place to stay for the summer, so we worked out a deal." Xander takes in the sunken living room, lined with picture windows that look directly out onto the beach. "Nice deal," he says with a grin. Lindsey smiles widely and Xander feels tingles run straight up his arms and thump in his gut at the way Lindsey's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Yeah, I'm happy with the way it worked out," he says with a satisfied air that makes Xander laugh out loud. "You know, I've heard people use the phrase 'you look like the cat that ate the canary' but I don't think I've ever actually seen it on anybody before," he says, following Lindsey into the kitchen. Lindsey's smile widens. "The rent on this is probably worth twice what they owed me. Like you said -- it was a nice deal." He opens a cupboard and pulls out two glasses, sets them on the counter in front of Xander. "Want a drink?" Xander nods and leans on the counter, arms folded. "Sure, thanks." "Scotch good?" Lindsey asks, holding up a cut-glass container. "I have some beer if you want that instead." "Scotch is good," Xander says and feels his throat go dry, remembering the flavor of Lindsey's kisses. Licks his lips and watches Lindsey pour them each a drink. Imagines himself standing up, walking over to Lindsey, taking the decanter away from him and setting it on the counter. Kissing that lush mouth until they're both high from oxygen deprivation and then dropping to his knees to - Xander coughs and shakes his head slightly when Lindsey sets a drink in front of him. Ponders the complete bizarreness of having a fantasy about sucking Lindsey's cock and knocks his drink back in one swift gulp. This is all too weird to deal with sober, that's for damn sure. Lindsey chuckles, holds out the decanter. "Want another?" Xander nods and pushes his glass in Lindsey's direction. "Thanks." Sips his drink slowly this time and watches as Lindsey takes things from the refrigerator and cupboards for dinner. Afraid to drift off into imaginary-sex land again, he offers to help chop vegetables. They chat about baseball, the Laker girls, and the job Xander just finished as they prepare dinner. Xander notices that Lindsey doesn't talk about his work at all, but shrugs it off as he acknowledges his own unwillingness to discuss what he's currently doing in L.A. Normal guy, normal life, normal friends. Maybe Lindsey is looking for a little normality, too. Xander gets that. Lindsey pours each of them a third drink -- he caught up while waiting for Xander to finish chopping the onion -- after he puts the skillet of chicken, rice and vegetables in the oven. "What did we just make?" Xander asks as he follows Lindsey from the kitchen to the enormous red sectional in the living room. "Chicken paella," Lindsey answers. He sits down in one corner of the sofa, sets his drink on the end table and pulls off his boots before leaning back with his feet up on the coffee table. "It'll only take about 20 minutes, since the chicken's already cooked." "Sounds good to me." Xander takes off his own shoes and then stretches out on the long part of the couch, enjoying the alcohol-induced warmth and heaviness in his arms and legs. Still drinking, wanting to erect as much of a wall between his current, relaxed state and nervous Babbling Xander as he can. Babbling Xander tries to get his attention as he looks around the living room and admires the elegant simplicity of the room's design and the view of the ocean through the huge windows. Tries to point out that relaxed, drunk Xander is liable to end up fucking or being fucked by Lindsey before too long and wasn't Xander freaking out over wanting to blow him just a few short minutes ago? Xander thinks about this for a moment. True, going from 'hey, I'm bisexual' to 'willing to have sex with a strange man' in less than three weeks is fast. Then he notices Lindsey watching him over the rim of his glass and the warmth in Xander's limbs whirls and coalesces in his groin at the lazy, speculative look in those bright blue eyes and. Huh. All-about-the-fast-man is here, awake and ready to play, folks. Xander finishes his drink slowly, his eyes never leaving Lindsey's. His whole body is hot, and the smooth coldness of the glass in his hand is so wrong when all he wants to feel is Lindsey's skin beneath his fingers. Unable to sit still any longer, his slight buzz making him brave, Xander puts his glass on the table and stands. Stares at Lindsey while he walks over and kneels on the floor next to him. He's mesmerized, watching Lindsey's throat move as he swallows the rest of his drink and Xander can't wait any longer, leans in and licks, long and flat, over the bobbing Adam's apple. Lindsey's breath hitches and Xander takes his glass away and puts it on the end table. Brushes a hot dry kiss across Lindsey's mouth and then drags his open lips lightly down Lindsey's neck, stops to suck at the base of his throat in the hollow there. Tiny smile against the skin when Lindsey's breath comes faster, shorter, almost panting but not quite, not yet. And now Xander needs to hear him pant... moan, beg, yell. Say his name. Goose bumps on his arms when Lindsey twines his fingers in the curls at the base of Xander's neck, gentle pressure on the back of his head pulling him closer. Xander unbuttons the shirt in his way, and Lindsey inhales sharply when Xander takes one already-hard nipple in his mouth and sucks, flicking it with his tongue. Xander grows even harder from the taste of Lindsey on his tongue and his hands are gone, working the belt buckle, the button on Lindsey's jeans. The fingers in his hair tighten almost to the point of pain when Xander lowers Lindsey's zipper. Xander chuckles roughly and moves to engulf Lindsey's mouth in a voracious, wet kiss. A quick tug and Lindsey lifts his hips to allow Xander to pull his jeans and boxers off. Moans into Lindsey's mouth when Lindsey pulls Xander down hard on top of him and Xander forgets everything else as they rub and thrust, bright lights sparking in his head. Sucks on Lindsey's tongue for the moan he already thinks of as his and then remembers what he wanted to do. Pushes away with a grin and a kiss and slides down Lindsey's body, tongue leading the way, watching Lindsey's face until he rolls his head back on the arm of the sofa with a groan. Feels his chin bump Lindsey's cock and... Xander's lust-and-alcohol-fueled bravery vanishes when he actually sees Lindsey's hard dick two inches from his face. He looks at it and then back up at Lindsey who's still staring at the ceiling. Shit. Opens his mouth to say... Say what? 'Hey, I'm chickening right the fuck out, now that I've got you all worked up?' Damn. He eyes Lindsey's erection and leans in for a tentative lick. "Having second thoughts?" Lindsey's voice is low and raspier than usual. Xander looks up to see Lindsey watching him with a smirk on his kiss-swollen lips. Tilts his head and grimaces slightly. "Not exactly. Just..." Exhales loudly. He's about to apologize for losing his nerve when suddenly he's flat on his back on the floor and Lindsey's on top, rubbing against him slowly with a very promising look on his face. Blue eyes bright and glittering and Lindsey asks, "Why don't I go first?" Xander gasps at the feel of Lindsey grinding against him and the image of Lindsey with Xander's cock in his mouth. "Yes... god, yes..." he chokes out. Runs his fingers through Lindsey's hair while he works Xander's belt, button, zipper. Closes his eyes and holds his breath and his pants are off and. Holy fuck. Hot wet sucking son of a bitch this is going to be fast but it's so goddamn good. Clenches his fingers in Lindsey's hair, then digs his fingernails into his palms instead, concentrating on the pain, biting his lip until he tastes blood. Anything to help him wait, give him a few more seconds of that gorgeous mouth wrapped around him but he has to see what that looks like. Lifts his head, sees Lindsey staring up at him as Xander's cock disappears wetly between his lips and. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh shit, coming now. Head thumps back against the floor as he arches into Lindsey's mouth and gasps. Feels Lindsey swallowing and his cock twitches a couple of extra times at that thought. Lies still, panting, then Lindsey's lying on him again, kissing him sweetly this time and Xander's never enjoyed the taste of himself in someone else's mouth quite so much. Lindsey still hard against him and maybe it's the booze, maybe it's the aftereffects of the orgasm, but his nervousness is gone and he wants Lindsey. On his back, shuddering and sweating because of what Xander does to him with hands and mouth and teeth and tongue. Oh, hell yeah. Turns his head, lips brushing Lindsey's ear, and murmurs what he wants to do. Heat flares in his palms when Lindsey drops his head against Xander's shoulder and groans at his words, pull and twist and roll and now Xander's on top and Lindsey's already shaking with need. Closes his eyes and concentrates on taste and texture as he maps Lindsey's body with his mouth. Stops to swirl his tongue around erect nipples, traces the lines carved in Lindsey's abdomen from countless hours in the gym. Open-mouthed kisses over the hip and down and this taste of salt and sweat and skin is even better than the scotch-tinged flavor of Lindsey's mouth. Gentle sucks on an inner thigh and before he has a chance to freak or even think, Xander licks Lindsey's cock, once, twice, slow; dips his head and takes it in his mouth. Decides he likes the feel of softer-than-expected skin stretched over hardness, slides down as far as he can, tongue flat and wide on the underside of Lindsey's hard-on. Sucks experimentally a few times, thrilled when Lindsey thrusts uncontrollably. Breathless apology from somewhere up above him and Xander shakes his head in dismissal and pulls back until he can slide his tongue across the head of Lindsey's cock and briefly into the slit, down and swirling around, under the ridge. Lindsey's thighs are quivering under his hands and he hears Lindsey moan his name. The sound goes straight to his groin and he wants to hear it again but he's teased enough, really. One hand to cup Lindsey's balls and roll them gently, the other at the base of his shaft as Xander sucks and pumps and sucks some more. Faster, harder, ignoring the choked warning and swallowing, swallowing when Lindsey shoots, hot and tangy and just a little bitter. But nice. Doesn't stop sucking softly until the shuddering ends and then he lets Lindsey slide slowly out of his mouth. Lindsey chuckles tiredly when Xander plops onto the floor next to him. "Is this the wrong time to ask you if you're ready to eat?" Laughs when Xander elbows him gently. Turns his head to look at Xander lying next to him, eyes closed. "That was... really fucking good." Xander opens his eyes and smiles lazily. "Thanks. Beginner's luck, I guess." "We'll have to check it out later, see if you're right." Lindsey grins and Xander laughs and nods in agreement. Propping himself up on one elbow, Lindsey leans over and kisses Xander slowly, easily, until the oven timer buzzes; he pulls back, one eyebrow raised. "Hungry?" Xander sits up and reaches for his jeans. "Definitely. I'm always hungry." Pulls them on and stands, waits while Lindsey dresses. "Bathroom's down that hall," Lindsey says with a wave of his hand. "There's probably an unopened toothbrush under the sink, if you want one." Xander almost blushes, but not quite, and he says thanks before Lindsey disappears into what Xander figures must be the bedroom. Wonders if he'll find out before he leaves and notes that his cock certainly hopes so. Feels a surreal twist of reality at that but shrugs it off, go-with-the-flow-man still firmly in charge as he grabs his shirt off the floor and heads for the bathroom. Xander shuts the door behind him, leans against it and closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. Well. That was different. He grins. Fun, too. Babbling Xander is back, demanding a panic attack, but he's too relaxed. 3 drinks and a blowjob will do that to you. His grin widens and he stands there, happy and content, until the growing pressure in his bladder reminds him that he's in the bathroom to do more than make faces at the shower curtain. After washing his hands and putting on his shirt, he studies his reflection and thinks that he ought to look different, somehow. He certainly feels different enough. Changed. Like something's... missing. Huh -- where'd that thought come from? But as he considers it, Xander realizes that it's true. Something is missing. He feels lighter and more solid at the same time. Rubs his hands across his eyes and laughs quietly. That's making a kind of sense that is not, he thinks, with a mental wave hello to Oz. He feels... settled. Like he did after he unpacked the last box when he moved into his apartment. A psychological 'yeah, I'm here and here's where I belong' that leaves him comfortable and easy. He suddenly realizes what's gone. Tension. The perpetual nervousness that's always lived wrapped around the base of his spine has disappeared. He doesn't feel the need to joke and play the clown, to try to make Lindsey laugh like he does with most people, trying to make them like him. He wonders if the difference is his newfound lack of interest in keeping people happy at his own expense or if it has something to do with the way Lindsey looked at him in the parking lot earlier. Xander smiles goofily at the mirror -- he could get used to being looked at like that. Xander turns the light off and leaves the bathroom. Walks down the hall into the living room to find Lindsey setting the table; he pitches in and soon they're talking easily while they eat dinner. Part of Xander's mind is busy marveling at the differences between this... whatever it is... with Lindsey and his previous experiences with women. Not that there've been so many. But normally, right about now Xander would be expecting a Talk. Something quiet and serious about What This All Means And Where Is It Going. Instead, Lindsey and he are talking about action movies and country music, no angst or deep thinking in sight. Over a second helping of chicken and rice -- paella, Xander corrects himself -- Lindsey finally gets around to asking why Xander's currently in L.A. Xander looks at him for a moment, then shrugs. "Guess there really isn't any reason I can't tell you, considering where we met." "Your trip has something to do with demons?" Lindsey asks, looking surprised. "Yep." Xander nods. "Had to deliver some ancient magical book to a friend of mine who happens to be one." He grins. "Well, not so much a friend -- an old friend's ex-boyfriend. We never got along much." "Didn't like him, huh?" Xander chuckles. "That's putting it mildly." Looking puzzled, Lindsey asks, "Why'd you have to take him the book, then? Couldn't someone who actually likes him do it?" Xander shrugs. "I'm the only one who had the time. It's not that big a deal and it was important to Giles, who I do like." He picks up his glass. "Besides, I don't hate Angel, he mostly just annoys the shit out of me. I'm sure the feeling is mutual." Takes a drink and sets the glass down before he notices the lack of color in Lindsey's face. "Hey -- you all right?" "Angel? This guy's name is Angel?" Lindsey's voice is low. "Yeah. Big, broody vampire with a soul. Kind of a pain in the ass. You know him?" "We've met a few times, " Lindsey says with a grimace. Xander is amused. "You sound like maybe you like him even less than I do." Lindsey snorts. "Probably." Pours himself another drink and offers more to Xander, who declines. "What happened?" Xander is a little unsettled by the intensity of the scrutiny Lindsey bestows on him. "Uh... it's cool if you don't want to tell me. It'd be fun to exchange 'why Angel needs psychiatric help' stories, but -" "He cut off my hand," Lindsey says darkly. With a meaningful glance at Lindsey's hands, Xander says, "I can personally testify to the fact that both your hands are present and accounted for." A wicked smile, and "Not to mention, fully functional." Lindsey chuckles. "Good point. But he did cut off my hand, the bastard." Holds up his right hand, wiggles it slightly. "Transplant." Xander's eyebrows shoot up. "Really? How'd they do it -- magic?" Lindsey nods. "Yep." He flexes his hand and makes a fist. "It works all right, though." "So why'd he cut off your hand? No offense, but as much as I don't like him, even I have to admit Angel's pretty much a good guy with a capital Good. I can't see him just saying 'Hey, nice hand -- let's remove it'." Xander finishes the last of his paella, pushes the plate away. Waits curiously and somewhat nervously for Lindsey's answer. Really doesn't want Lindsey to be one of the bad guys but he can't think of another explanation for why Angel would cut anyone's hand off. Lindsey studies Xander's face for a long moment, as though he's searching for something. Xander wonders what he found when he starts explaining. "It's a long story. Ugly one, too." Lindsey's engrossed in the table top, fingers drumming out a rhythm on the glossy surface, avoiding Xander's gaze. "I've lost track of how many times we tried to kill each other." Xander sits still and silent, waiting. "The short version? I had something he wanted... hell, something he needed. He cut off my hand to keep me from destroying it." Lindsey raises his head, meets Xander's eyes. "Look, I'm not gonna lie -- I was... a heartless motherfucker. And I'm not gonna try to sell you some bullshit story about how I've seen the error of my ways and am willing to fight for truth, justice and the American-fucking-way." Lindsey grins when Xander chuckles. "But I'm not that guy anymore, either -- I left all that behind a while ago." "So who are you, then?" Xander asks seriously. Thinks the answer may be more important than he wants to admit. Lindsey shrugs. "Just a guy tryin' to decide what comes next." Questioning glance at Xander, who's surprised at the pain he sees in those dark blue eyes. "Is this the part where you tell me that's not enough?" Xander ignores the question because he doesn't know the answer yet. "Is any of this related to why you quit your job?" Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Lindsey answers honestly. "Actually, yeah. But don't ask me to explain, all right? It's... complicated and I'm not sure I have it all figured out yet." Xander rubs his hand across his face then rests his chin in his hand, elbow propped on the table. Still serious as he asks, "So what would you do if you ran into Angel again? You still want to kill him?" Lindsey tips his head to one side and thinks for a moment before answering. "Nah. I owe him a practical joke, but I'll settle for not running into -- or over -- him ever again." Grins at Xander, who's gaping, and opens his eyes wide, feigning innocence. "What?" "Did you just say you ran Angel over? Like, with a car?" "My truck, actually," Lindsey corrects him. "You ran Angel over. With your truck." Xander can't help it -- he snorts with laughter. "It's not funny, but... really?" he asks, grinning. "Yeah, I did." Lindsey rubs his jaw but he's grinning, too. "Paid for it, though, believe me. He's got a hell of a punch." "Gee, ya think? Vampire strength," Xander points out, not bothering to hide the fact that now he's laughing at Lindsey. Lindsey looks mildly disgusted -- although not upset, Xander notices -- and begins clearing the table. Xander helps and soon everything is clean and put away. "Let's go outside -- I want to see the water," Xander suggests. Lindsey agrees and leads the way out through the sliding glass door and onto the porch at the back of the house. Xander watches Lindsey settle comfortably into a striped padded lounge chair and then looks at the ocean longingly. "Hey. Not to sound too much like a kid or anything, but I'm pretty much incapable of being this close to the ocean and not being in it." He nods in the direction of the water. "Let's go down there. Please?" Xander allows himself to beg, smiling hugely. Knowing someone thinks you're cute can be useful, he realizes. He wonders if this is what Cordelia feels like all the time. "That look should be licensed as a dangerous weapon," Lindsey says with a laugh. But he gets up from the chair and follows Xander down the steps to the water after they take off their socks. Xander rolls up his pants and kicks and splashes his way through the water lapping at the sand. Fine, so he is just a big kid. Looks sideways at Lindsey to see his reaction and discovers Lindsey's watching him with that look on his face again. Flustered, he trips over his own feet and falls. Even better -- now he's a clumsy big kid. Jeez. Looks up and sees Lindsey laughing at him, and his eyes narrow. Lindsey has just enough time to realize what Xander's going to do before it happens, and then he's on his ass in the water too. "Hey!" he protests uselessly. Xander stands up, brushing the wet sand off his even-wetter jeans and grins down at Lindsey. "Not so funny now, is it, lawyer-boy?" He grunts, the wind knocked out of him when Lindsey barrels into him and knocks him flat on his back. In the water again, of course, and now he's thoroughly soaked. Lindsey moves and sits atop Xander, straddling him, before he replies. "Dunno," he says with a satisfied smirk. "Looks pretty funny from where I'm sitting." Xander briefly contemplates the merits of flinging a handful of sand at Lindsey, just to get that smug look off his face. But then Lindsey's moving again, laying down on top of him there in the sand and the water and Xander likes the taste of ocean salt on Lindsey's lips. Then his brain does that thing that it does lately where the world spins and contracts until all he can see or hear or feel is Lindsey, just like every other time they've kissed. Xander has the bizarre thought that he should research it, find out if it will still happen after they've kissed a thousand times, and thinking of a thousand Lindsey-kisses makes him whimper. Then Lindsey's lips and tongue are gone -- hey, that is so not the way to do research -- and he opens his eyes to see Lindsey frowning at him. "What?" he asks, then protests as Lindsey starts to stand up. "Wait -- where are you going?" "You're shivering." Lindsey leans over and offers Xander a hand. "Don't want you getting sick the very first time you come over -- let's go inside." Xander ignores the outstretched hand in favor of trying not to goggle. "Um... first time?" And look -- the Moron is back. Blowjobs aside, Xander wasn't really sure Lindsey liked him. After all, sex with someone who dislikes him is not, unfortunately, a new experience for Xander. Even as he thinks it, he knows he's being stupid, thinks it's pretty obvious that Lindsey does, in fact, like him. But he doesn't like Xander's question, if the look on his face is any indication. "Yeah. First time, right," Lindsey says. His voice is flat and hard and Xander's confused at the sudden change in mood. He stands up and brushes the sand out of his hair and when he looks up to ask what's going on, Lindsey's already almost at the house. Puzzled and more than a little irritated, Xander follows, grabbing his socks from the porch railing on his way inside. Lindsey disappears into the bedroom without saying a word; with a shrug and a sigh, Xander goes back out on the porch and tries to get his clothes somewhat clean. Inside again, but still no sign of Lindsey. Xander fidgets and paces a while before putting on his socks and boots -- which is hard to do standing up, but it's pretty obvious he said or did something to piss Lindsey off and he's not about to make things worse by plopping his wet ass on the very expensive furniture. Clueless he may be, but stupid he is not. He waits a few minutes more, but when Lindsey doesn't come out, he decides it's time to go. He sees a notepad on the counter next to the telephone, figures 'what the hell' and scribbles down his phone number. Moves the pad and pen to the coffee table so Lindsey can't miss it, hopes he'll even want it, and leaves after one last glance at the closed bedroom door. Xander is unlocking the car when he hears the front door of the house slam. Turns, and Lindsey's walking toward him, holding up a piece of paper. "You left your number," he says, the 'why?' unspoken but still there. Xander feels himself flush and reaches for it. "Sorry. Thought you might want it." "I do!" Lindsey says and pulls the paper out of his reach. "What... now you don't want me to have it? Changed your mind already?" Xander's irritation bursts into full-fledged anger. "What the hell is going on? One second you're worried about my health, then you're pissed and ignoring me, and now you're -" Kissing me, apparently. Which is nice, and Xander's brain is starting to spin again as Lindsey moves until they're pressed together tightly from mouth to toe and all the nerves in Xander's body feel very close to the surface of his skin. The kiss is soft and sweet, and it turns out Xander moans when his tongue is sucked on, too. Breaking the kiss reluctantly, he says, "Look, I don't really know what I did or didn't do or what I said wrong or maybe didn't say that I should have..." and what he should have known was that Babbling Xander was just waiting to make his reappearance. "...But I want to apologize for it anyway." Lindsey doesn't answer but he's not pulling away, so Xander takes a deep breath and decides to hell with dignity. Not like he's had it long enough to get attached to it. Closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Lindsey's. "I like you. A lot. More than makes sense, considering that I have milk in my fridge that I've known longer than you, but I do." Hears Lindsey's chuckle and feels him relax. Maybe Babbling Xander's not such a bad guy to have around after all. "I should be the one apologizing. I was being an ass," Lindsey says, and Xander opens his eyes. Leans back a little so he they can look at each other without their eyes crossing. "You realize I have less than no idea what happened, right?" A little nervous, because what if it's the wrong thing to say and it's like it was with Anya where he was just supposed to know when and how he fucked up, and what to do to fix it. Lindsey looks embarrassed when he finally answers. "I'm a little too good at jumping to conclusions -- you looked surprised when I said that about not wanting you to get sick your first time over and I took it the wrong way. Sorry." "I just..." and it's Xander's turn to look embarrassed. "It's silly, but... I wasn't expecting you to want me to come back." Lindsey looks at him, incredulous. "Why? Because the dinner and the blowjob made you think I don't like you?" "I told you it was silly." Lindsey chuckles and kisses him softly. "It's all right -- we were both being pretty stupid." "Gee, thanks," Xander says sarcastically, which only makes Lindsey laugh and kiss him again. Xander wants to lose himself in that kiss, to go back inside and be convinced with kisses and touches and skin against skin that everything's all right now, but even go-with-the-flow Xander hesitates a little at the idea. Maybe not, then -- panic attacks are probably pretty unattractive. "I better go," he says regretfully. "You sure?" Lindsey asks quietly, rubbing Xander's arms, the now-crumpled paper with Xander's phone number still in his hand. "Yeah." Xander sighs. "I'm going home tomorrow and I still have a couple of things to do at the Hyperion before I can leave." Lindsey raises one eyebrow. "You're staying there?" Xander laughs. "Yep. Hey -- big hotel, lots of rooms. Why not?" "But I thought -" "Told you -- I don't hate Angel... er... anymore. I just don't like him much. And I stay out of his way while I'm there." He shrugs. "Besides -- well, do you know Cordelia?" "We've met," Lindsey says evenly. Xander grins. "What's the matter? Don't like her either?" "Let's just say we'll never be friends." Chuckling, Xander continues. "Anyway -- we went to high school together and she'd kill me if I didn't spend some time with her while I was up here. Staying at the hotel makes it easy." Purposely leaves out the 'we used to date' bit, because really -- he's walked on enough eggshells for one night. "You have to put up with Angel while you're there," Lindsey points out. "Fine. So easy is a relative term. Easier, then," Xander answers. Lindsey snorts. "I still have my doubts, but OK." "Trust me. Mildly-annoying Angel is no match for pissed-off Cordelia. And he'd be the first one to admit it." Xander turns and opens the car door, gets in. "I'll, um... I'll call you?" "Or I'll call you," Lindsey says with a grin and wave of the paper he's holding. "All right, then. Talk to you later," Xander says. Lindsey nods; Xander concentrates on backing the car out of the driveway and driving, trying not to think. Leaving Lindsey bothers him with an intensity that he doesn't know how to handle, and he spends the drive back to Angel's trying to make sense of it. But he's tired and happy and still pretty relaxed in spite of the argument -- and Xander's train of thought derails here long enough for him to wonder if having a fight and making up means he and Lindsey have some kind of... relationship happening. A thought which is too fucking weird for him to contemplate in the state of mind he's in, if not ever, so he jumps back on the tracks quickly and decides to worry what about what kind of mall tortures Cordelia has planned for him tomorrow instead. --- Finally, Xander pulls up in front of the Hyperion and hopes like hell that everybody's gone home for the night -- or better yet, out on a case, because then Angel will be gone too. He really doesn't want to talk to anyone. The hotel is dark and quiet when he gets inside and Xander breathes a sigh of relief at his unexpected luck and heads upstairs. A long, hot shower and then sleep sounds damn near perfect right about... Oh, look. Angel's not only home, he's awake and coming down the hall. Xander says hi ...move along, Deadboy, nothing to see here... and opens the door to his room, but stops when Angel asks him why he's wet. Damned nosy vampire. Xander struggles not to sigh as he turns to face Angel. "Went to the beach. Got wet. Got sandy. Got tired. Good enough?" OK, so usually he tries to be nicer, but he's not up for a round of Twenty Questions tonight. Besides, he really doesn't like the way Angel's looking at him, all frowning and serious, nostrils flaring. "Aren't you... aren't you engaged?" Angel asks, looking like he can't make up his mind whether to be worried or upset about something. "I was," Xander answers slowly, baffled by Angel's sudden interest in his relationship with Anya. "We broke up a couple of weeks ago." Worry gains the upper hand in Angel's expression as he asks, "You all right?" Xander's eyes widen at the concern in Angel's voice "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks," he says doubtfully. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but, uh -- you wanna tell me why you seem worried about me? No offense, but it's kinda unusual -- you know something I don't, but maybe should?" Angel shakes his head. "No -- nothing like that. It's just..." He waves one hand loosely in Xander's direction. "You're a little. Well, you're kinda... rumpled. And. Stuff." "Stuff?" Xander frowns and tries to imagine what 'stuff' might mean. Looks at Angel and sees his nostrils flaring again, wonders why, since Angel doesn't need to breathe. Oh. "We don't really need to talk about this, do we?" Xander asks flatly. The last person in the world Xander wants to talk about his sex life with is Angel. "No. Of course not." Angel grimaces slightly and Xander knows they're going to talk about it anyway. He sighs and leans back against the wall. "It's not... not really like you, Xander." Xander shakes his head. "Because you know me so well, right? It's been a while since high school, Deadboy," and he can't help but grin at the uncomfortable expression on Angel's face at the nickname. "The idea of me coming to L.A. and getting laid while I'm here really isn't so far-fetched, you know." He knows he's being snarky, but it really isn't any of Angel's business. "Why am I facing the Inquisition of the Undead, anyway? Is the idea of me having sex that weird for you?" Angel shrugs and almost manages to make it look casual, but Xander can see the tension in his shoulders. "Not if it was a woman, no." And oh again. Guess vampire noses are more sensitive than Xander imagined. "While I stand in awe of your sniffing abilities, can I just remind you that it's really none of your business who I fuck or what sex they are?" Angel is nowhere on Xander's list of 'people I may need/want to tell I'm bi' and he's not happy at all that Angel has somehow ended up as the first person Xander has the conversation with. "Fine. But -" "But nothing -- what part of 'none of your goddamn business' do you not understand?" Xander's angry at Angel's refusal to drop the subject. And maybe he's overreacting, but he's tired and wet and how the hell can he explain Lindsey to Angel when he doesn't understand it himself? And suddenly he does understand. The worry and concern, the brief flash of anger he saw on Angel's face at first... it all makes sense now. Xander shakes his head disgustedly. Warily, Angel asks, "What?" "You're worried about me." Xander says, forcing himself to speak calmly. He looks at Angel with a small smile on his face. Angel's eyes narrow as he tries to figure out the reason for Xander's mood swing, but he nods his head. "Yeah." "You homophobic?" Angel shakes his head. "No." "So it's just -- you thought I was still engaged to Anya, and here I am, middle of the night, messy and smelling like alcohol and sex with some strange guy. Right?" Xander almost holds his breath as he waits for Angel to answer. You gonna lie to me, Angel, or do you have even half the balls that Lindsey does? "Right," Angel agrees, looking uncomfortable. "That's it?" Angel nods once. "Yeah -- that's it." Undead liar guy. Xander goes into his room and starts changing his clothes. When he's dressed again, he puts the duffel bag he brought with him on the bed. "What are you doing?" Angel asks, still in the hallway. "Packing," Xander says shortly. He checks the bathroom, grabs his toothbrush and toothpaste from the counter and shoves them in the bag and closes it. Hoists the bag over his shoulder and pushes carelessly past Angel as he leaves the room. Angel follows him downstairs to the front door. "You're leaving? Now?" Xander takes a deep breath as he sets the duffel down and turns to look at Angel. "Yeah. I'm gonna go back to Sunnydale tonight." "Why? Cordy will be furious if you leave early." Angel looks a little panicked. Xander can almost -- but not quite -- feel a pang of sympathy for him. Cordelia will be pissed -- royally pissed, as only Cordy can be -- and Xander doesn't envy Angel the task of explaining his sudden departure to her. But it's Angel's own damn fault and Xander refuses to feel bad for him. "We don't like each other on good days, Angel. Right now, I don't even want to be in the same city as you, much less the same building." Xander kicks his duffel bag gently, rolling it out through the open door. "Apologize to Cordy for me... tell her whatever the hell you want. I'm not worried about it, since I'm sure it won't be the truth." "What's that supposed to mean, and why do I have the feeling you're not telling me everything?" Angel asks suspiciously. Xander's eyes are bright with the effort to control his temper. "Not telling you everything? What could I possibly have left to tell?" he asks mockingly. Cocking his head to one side, Xander pretends to think deeply. "Let's see -- you know about Anya. You know I was drinking. You even know that I got it on with a guy. That's about it," he lists slowly. Taps his chin with one finger and shakes his head. "Oh, wait -- one more thing." He leans in toward Angel and whispers, almost conspiratorially, "You don't really care about that last part -- you're just pissed because the guy was Lindsey McDonald." Xander grins sardonically at Angel's shocked silence, heaves his duffel bag onto his shoulder again, and leaves the hotel, whistling. --- End Continued in I Don't Like Mondays.