|Xander And The Cougars
Author: Manchester PM
Okay, so maybe a little bit of this is Buffy's fault, but Dawn and Willow and Giles and even Faith are to blame, too! All they did was to urge Xander to see new people when he came back from Africa, but nobody anticipated this.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Xander H. - Words: 4,863 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 23 - Follows: 7 - Published: 05-13-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8113426
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Do you think we should be worried?" appealed Buffy to her friend Willow as they sat in their usual booth at the closest Starbucks to the Cleveland Slayers House. It was several years after the Sunnydale collapse, and after spending time abroad, both women were now living in this Ohio city in order to keep an eye upon the Hellmouth there.
Giving the blonde a rather amused look, the witch replied, "You can be worried, if you want. I'll just enjoy his funny stories about his dates. Besides, it's probably just a phase, like the demon girlfriends back in Sunnydale."
"This is different!" insisted Buffy. She went on at Willow's quizzical glance, "Even with all the instances when Xan nearly got eaten or sacrificed by those monsters in your hometown, he's now certain to get into much bigger trouble every time he goes on a date with an older woman, like he's been doing for the last couple of months!"
Rolling her eyes, Willow snarked, "Look who's talking." She began counting on her fingers. "Angel, Spike, the Immortal, Riley, Parker - have you ever had a relationship with anybody your age or younger?"
Buffy glowered at her snickering pal, before huffily responding, "There was, um, uh, let's see… Oh, right! Owen, during my first year at Sunnydale High! That was around the time we were going up against the Master, remember?"
"I think so," Willow reflected, just before a sardonic gleam appeared in her eyes. She continued in a somewhat deadpan manner, "Didn't he ask for a second date afterwards but you turned him down, just because he nearly got killed in a Slayer fight and found it really exciting?"
Mentally feeling a tiny twinge of regret over the whole years-ago episode, Buffy grumped, "Yeah, so what's your point?"
Leaning back in their booth, Willow shrugged, "So, it's Xander's and nobody else's business over who he dates, ever since he got back from Africa. He's gone through so much in his life already, that maybe he just doesn't have all that much in common with women his age. Now that he's traveling around the country as the New Council's troubleshooter, Xan's got the opportunity to meet lots of cougars, and as long as he feels okay with it and his dates have a good time, what does it hurt?"
Despite her friend's good advice, Buffy simply looked down at her half-empty latte, and this Slayer then allowed a truly uncomfortable expression to cross her face. Observing this, Willow asked in exasperation, "What's wrong now?"
Continuing to examine her coffee mug without meeting the witch's eye, Buffy mumbled, "It just makes me feel a little squicky, that's all, because I keep wondering if it started back in Sunnydale, with Mom."
"What?" yelped Willow, staring in shock at her companion.
Before the redhead could say anything more, the other young woman glancing up now hurriedly assured Willow, "No, no! I'm not saying anything bad happened, ever! If only because Mom would've never allowed it. But, you know Xan hung around our house as much as he could, and he flat out adored her."
Willow's face softened, as she interjected gently, "We all did, Buffy."
Giving her friend a sad smile, the blonde nodded in thanks, before continuing. "What I'm trying to say is, I can't help wondering if that's part of what Xan's looking for in his dates. It makes a kinda uncomfortable sense to me, so that I don't know how to deal with it. I want him to be happy, but I don't want him hurt, either."
Willow reached across the coffee shop table to pat Buffy's hand several times in sympathy, to then respond, "That's exactly the way I feel, too. But, all we can do is support him, and hope things work out for the best someday. In the meantime, I'll pass on to you what he's told me about some of his dates. Don't forget, we're talking about Xander Harris here, which means there's always the prospect of some sort of hilarious trouble happening to him during this!"
"Like what?" inquired a curious Buffy, her mood quickly becoming lighter at seeing Willow's sudden evil smirk.
"Like this," the witch happily cackled, as the heads of both women in the Starbucks booth came together for some prime gossip…
Freud Was A Dick
"Now, Leonard, I realize that you never really progressed past the outmoded Freudian theory of a phallic stage of psycho-sexual development, but frankly, get over it! Your father and I are in the concluding stages of our divorce, so there's no cause for you to object to this. I certainly didn't, not after my second orgasm of last night, which was only the beginning. If you really wish to make yourself useful, a glass of orange juice - real and not condensed, light pulp, chilled to the proper temperature - will be appreciated. Oh, before I forget, what'll you have, young man?"
A cringing Leonard standing in the doorway of his bedroom reluctantly met the sheepish gaze of the guy sharing the bedcovers with his mother. This man wearing an eyepatch on his scarred features cleared his throat, to then mutter, "Nah, I'm good, thanks."
Running a hand through her tousled hair, Dr. Beverly Hofstadter, world-renowned neuroscientist, now purred into her bedmate's ear, "Good isn't the proper word for you, dear. I think the best description would be 'extraordinary', at the very least! Where on earth did you learn that thing you did with your tongue? I'll have to write it up in The Lancet-"
"OKAY!" shouted Leonard, desperately backing out of the room before he heard anything more. However, instead of getting his mother's request right away, this supremely embarrassed experimental physicist stuck his head back into his bedroom. Trying to avoid further scarring his psyche, Leonard stared at a point directly above the headboard, and appealed, "Uh, dude-"
"Yeah, whatever," Leonard grumpily responded, to then rally with a determined request. "When you leave, do me just one favor, will you? Take the bed with you. Because, otherwise, I'm going to burn it to ashes on the spot."
Take That, Bitches
Standing inside her home while staring out through the picture window at the man working in the front yard, Susan Mayer took a sip of her coffee, and she let a truly wicked smile appear on her lips. The dark-haired woman knew exactly how the other inhabitants of Wisteria Lane usually thought of her: the neighborhood klutz, hopeless romantic, drama queen. Well, to hell with them, because today, judging from all the twitching curtains in the other houses on the block, everyone was now watching in utter disbelief how a shirtless Xander Harris dressed only in sneakers and cut-off jeans shorts was repainting the house's white rail fence along the street.
Lustfully eyeing the rippling muscles on this unaware man's lean, scarred back, Susan glanced to her right, and she saw at the end of the lane that bimbo Gabrielle standing on her porch, mouth wide open in shock. Apparently, the skank was seeing for the first time in her entire bed-hopping life a real, honest-to-god Alpha male far beyond any of the normal pimply teenage lovers this Texan woman entertained herself with, to the scandal of the other wives in the vicinity.
Happily giggling, Susan placed her coffee mug on the nearest table, and she brushed back her hair. Xander was just about finished out there, which meant he was about to begin his next task, upstairs in her bedroom. The divorced brunette let out an ecstatic sigh over how lucky she was at the moment. Not just because her latest blind date had turned out to be the equivalent of winning the lottery, but in the house at 4353 Wisteria Lane, Susan Mayer had been a desperate housewife in the past and might be again in the future, but right now, life was good.
No Way, Not Ever
Not daring to take his attention off the insane Miami traffic on the way to the airport, Xander Harris decided to skip calling Willow on his cellphone while driving. Instead, in his rental car, the New Council troubleshooter went over his story for when he'd tell her later, musing out loud as he kept an eye on the road, "Okay, that was pretty strange, even for us, Wils. I mean, it even approached Sunnydale weirdness. It started when I arrived at Rita Bennett's house for our blind date, going out for lunch. She sounded real nice on the phone, even though she admitted she had a lot of problems in her life. Well, when I got there, a problem showed right up on the spot, when her previous boyfriend opened the front door and said he was here to babysit her kids."
Shaking his head wryly, Xander continued, "Yeah, but you know what? That wasn't the worse part, even with the really creepy vibe I picked up from the guy, though he acted all polite throughout everything. Nope, it started entering Twilight Zone territory when Rita walked into the back yard where we were, sitting uncomfortably together in those tacky director's chairs. It was the middle of the day, and me plus uh, Denny or whatever his name was, were sweating in the sun, when she came up on us from behind, and said hello. I turned around and met for the first time in my life somebody who was an exact double for Darla, the vamp who turned Angel."
Making a left into the airport entranceway, Xander sheepishly confessed, "I gotta say, I didn't deal too well with it, but can you blame me? I was out of there like a shot, breaking our date like a real jerk with one hell of a feeble excuse. Hey, I'm gonna call Rita from the airport and apologize properly, okay? Anyway, it'd be a good idea for you or someone on the New Council to check on the q.t. about her. It might be nothing more than an odd coincidence, but it couldn't hurt, you know? In any case, I'm not going back there, even if everything's fine. Sorry, but that's how I feel, and you know why. "
Pulling up at the front of the rental car agency, Xander thought over what he'd just said, and shrugged in agreement. He'd just chalk up today's events as part of his usual bizarre life and take the next flight back to Cleveland, where he had more work for the New Council waiting for him there. Heading for the agency office, Xander paid no attention to the car passing by, which had been discreetly following him for the last half hour.
Dexter Morgan coldly observed the man who'd upset Rita earlier today, but even his Dark Passenger had to grudgingly admit this wasn't actual cause for having a little…chat with Xander, even if he'd acted like a total bastard and sent a crying Rita back into the house. Besides, it looked like the guy with an eyepatch was leaving town anyway. Of course, there was always the chance he'd visit Rita again. If that happened, Dexter would have the opportunity to further investigate Alexander Harris, who'd been remarkably skillful at avoiding discussions of his past. Given how this one-eyed man with an impressive number of scars elsewhere had a genuine air of mystery around himself, it was worth a try. Perhaps it'd wind up with another visit to his kill site. Speaking of this, the forensic police blood spatter analyst had to stock up on some more plastic tarpaulins…
It's Not Like He Inhaled
Frantically checking the rear-view mirror, Xander winced at the numerous flashing lights of the police cars in hot pursuit of him. Seeing an alley come up, the New Council troubleshooter jerked the steering wheel to the right, and the car swerved into this narrow lane with a horrible screeching of tires which momentarily overpowered the sound of sirens wailing throughout the Southern California night. Hitting the gas pedal again, Xander snarled under his breath, "Have a date with a suburban mom, do her one little favor of picking up the dry cleaning in her car, hey, no problem! Of course, Nancy didn't mention the minor detail that the place was a cover for drug dealers, including her, too! So, there's a couple hundred pounds of marijuana in the trunk, with everybody - the cops, other dealers, and the lying bitch herself - after it, but Alexander LaVelle Harris is totally on his own!"
Speeding recklessly down the alley, Xander took a deep breath, glowered through the windshield at the dimly-lit garages and houses the one-eyed man was driving by in his desperate escape attempt, and he grumbled to himself, "When the gang back at Cleveland hear about this, they're never gonna let me live it down! It'll be Cheech and Chong jokes forever! Maybe you really should go for girls your own age, just like they said, Wils and Buffster and G-Man and…"
Adroitly avoiding running over a pair of trash cans, Xander kept on heading down the alley at the highest possible velocity, all while sighing, "Hey, like I told them, after Anya, the young ones are just too dull. Still, I gotta admit, there's such a thing as a little too much excitement. Like now."
After saying those last words, Xander nodded in real regret while thinking hard how to get past any possible police roadblocks. One final comment was left behind in the dust of the fleeing vehicle: "Kinda shame, though. Nancy Botwin, aside from the whole criminal thing, was one hell of a hot mama."
When In Doubt, Go To Oscar
"Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about." - Oscar Wilde
After staring in sheer awe for several minutes, Xander finally gave into his curiosity, and he reached out to poke at something with a finger. Under his prodding, the quip squirmed slightly, but a clever remark involving the 1930's screwball comedy Bringing Up Baby, as directed by Howard Hawks, and gracefully relating this classic film to the present day still continued to float in the air in front of a comfortable New England blue-painted home with a wraparound porch.
Despite looking like an intangible line of print hovering at head level above the ground, this witticism still felt solid, albeit a bit squashy, exactly like an air-filled inner tube. Taking a step back while dropping his arm at his side, Xander thoughtfully eyed the bizarre object…and all its innumerable friends. These dozens - no, hundreds - of identical wisecracks now completely permeated the air, filling up every bit of space around the two-level house, extending out at least fifty feet and reaching the same distance upwards. Xander was positive those things were also totally crammed inside every room of that place, where just a little while ago, he'd been getting to the good part of his latest date.
No, no, thankfully it'd only gone as far as kissing, without even reaching second base, and then his date's daughter had unexpectedly walked in. Which meant only minor embarrassment all around, at least until the two women had started snarking at each other, and then things went really weird. The words coming out of these females' mouths had actually become corporeal, gently but firmly shoving him out of not only the living room where he'd been sitting on the couch with his date, but also entirely out of the house itself. He'd wound up in the front yard, gazing in disbelief at the increasing cloud of quips sealing away the home in a bubble of conversation…which was still going on, come to think of it.
Cocking his head to listen to the two ladies still inside their house cheerfully chattering away, Xander sighed with pure resignation. He turned away to start walking back to the Independence Inn and his room there, since it appeared totally obvious that his date was over. Strolling through the pleasant town of Stars Hollow, the New Council troubleshooter soon decided not to tell the others back at Cleveland of his latest disaster of a blind date. It wasn't that they'd find it hilarious which bothered the one-eyed man. Nope, he just didn't want to hurt Wils' feelings about the news of two other women doing far better at a babble-fest than the witch had ever managed, plus Buffy would be most cranky at being out-quipped by Lorelai and Rory Gilmore.
Detailed Notes Will Be Necessary, Dear
Sympathetically patting the shoulder of Chandler seated next to herself on the girls' apartment sofa, Monica tried to point out to this man over the huffing pants of him frenziedly breathing into a paper bag, "Look, honey, please just calm down. I know it's a horrible shock, walking in on your mother when she's, uh…"
Phoebe cheerfully finished off Monica's groping for the proper way to finish that sentence, "…breaking both the seventh and third Commandments?"
As usual, the entire group stared in total bafflement at the ditzy blonde sitting next to Monica over her odd comment. Even Chandler peered over his paper bag, pausing for a moment in trying to control his extreme hyperventilation.
Frowning, Ross on the other sofa did his customary straight man delivery, "Uh, Pheebs, the seventh's adultery, so you got that correct, but exactly how did Mrs. Bing misuse the name of the Lord for the third one?"
"You're right," amiably agreed Phoebe, who shrugged, "Now that I think back, his mom wasn't cursing, but instead just ecstatically screaming 'Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!' when Chandler opened his bedroom door and we heard her all the way here-"
BANG! exploded the paper bag, with Chandler tossing away the scraps of this to the apartment floor before grabbing a new one from the pile in his lap and starting all over again, glowering around at the room during this.
Just managing to keep her face straight, Rachel seated at the kitchen table with Joey called out, "Monica, you stayed behind in the guys' place when we dragged Chandler out. Just what did his mom tell you before you came back here?"
Looking uncomfortable, Monica glanced at Chandler blankly staring ahead while his paper bag inflated and deflated several times, before she gingerly answered, "The fact is, Nora's not actually cheating on Chandler's dad. She, um, got his permission for this because it's part of her newest book she's writing. Remember how we found out she's done some erotic best-sellers-"
"Hey, you think she'll sign the ones she wrote I already got?" hopefully asked Joey.
Chandler slowly turned around on the sofa to balefully gaze at his Italian friend, who tried to backpedal, "Look, man, it's just this is the first chance since-"
"Anyway," overrode Monica in her most suppressive tone, "She met the guy during a book tour here, found out he was some kind of expert on thousand-year-old Scandinavian sexual practices, and she grabbed at the chance to do some close-up historical research on Vikings and their sex lives, which is going to be her next book. So, Chandler, there's nothing to worry about-"
"WRONG!" roared this furious man after yanking away the paper bag from his mouth. "You want know what's really the most hideous part of the whole deal? It's the bastard's ridiculous name!"
As one, everybody else leaned forward, eagerly waiting for the punch line from their friend, who didn't disappoint them.
"Of all things, he's called Xander! Which means every time I remember it, I can't help putting his name and mine togther: Xander and Chandler! It makes us sound like a set of television soap opera twins, and I don't even get to be the evil one!"
Is There A Problem?
"She's so pale, she makes any vamp look tanned, right?" demanded Buffy to the top of Xander's skull.
"Yeah, but-" grunted the New Council troubleshooter, just before his Slayer friend interrupted him in her interrogation.
"And that woman's also got such an icy personality that being around her feels like paying a visit to the South Pole in your undies, or so I heard!"
Still held immobile in Buffy's unyielding headlock, a bent-over Xander didn't bother saying anything in direct response to this while staring down at the carpeted floor of his hotel room with a superstrong arm tightly gripped around his cranium. Though, his exasperated growl did indicate both annoyance over how Buffy was thoroughly insulting his latest relationship, plus there was the minor detail of right at this precise moment, he was dressed solely in his eyepatch and a set of Scooby-Doo boxers.
Ignoring everything else as she continued her rant in the living room of Xander's hotel suite in Boston, Buffy triumphantly delivered the conclusive argument for proving her nearly-nude Sunnydale High pal had finally crossed the line, just like she knew he would at some point in his squicky dates with older women:
"Worse of all, her name means 'of the night' and that made me come straight here from Cleveland, when I found out from the others there exactly who you were shacking up with!"
"What?" roared Xander in shocked astonishment, abruptly trying to break free out of Buffy's clutches. He succeeded, but only because the Slayer had already let go, with Buffy taking a step back and jauntily resting the haft of the Scythe upon her right shoulder. Smirking with pride, this young woman now observed a gaping male straighten up and stare back at herself in an incredulous daze.
After a few more seconds of this, Xander managed to splutter out, "Why- Who- How the hell did you know that?"
Bestowing upon her friend her dirtiest look for his supremely disbelieving tone, Buffy snootily replied, "Hey, I was actually paying attention during all our research parties back at the school library when we went through Giles' dusty books trying to find some info on our latest Big Bad!" A somewhat sheepish expression momentarily flickered over this Los Angeles native's face, before she amended, "Well, okay, most of them…some…a couple…one or two, maybe…look, it doesn't matter! The important thing is, like back then, you're now dating a demoness, who had the nerve to use her own, real name when seducing you! But, don't worry, Xan, I'll take care of it for you, just for old times' sake!"
Brandishing in her right hand the mystical axe which had created a world with thousands of Slayers instead of a single one, Buffy then stalked through the open bedroom doorway, bearing a truly resolute air throughout it all. She disappeared out of sight into this room, to confront yet again another unholy creature out to menace humanity. Or, with perhaps a more worrisome potential threat, against what was making that…impressive…bulge in Xander's underwear.
Gazing after his departing friend, Xander thoughtfully scratched his bare chest several times, before lifting his remaining eye upwards to the ceiling, in a clear appeal to whomever deity(s) had been watching of what he had to suffer from his bestest buds. Too, making things even more awkward was his absolute conviction that in the next few minutes, Buffy was gonna completely and lastingly lose in her clash with the Slayer's latest opponent in the bedroom.
So, what exactly should he do about that?
Shrugging, Xander padded off to the suite's kitchenette, and he made some fresh coffee. Eventually returning to the bedroom while carrying two cups of steaming liquid, Xander handed one of these to the mature, dark-haired woman wearing nothing but a hotel bathrobe while sitting in an armchair placed at the foot of the hotel bed. Absently taking her cup with slim fingers matching her slender figure, this engrossed female paid no attention to Xander placing the other cup of coffee on the nightstand by the bed's headboard.
Buffy also showed no sign of noticing either action. This Slayer was laying on her back atop the mattress' rumpled sheets, with the Scythe placed next to her body. Stretched out with her arms folded across her chest, Buffy continued to stare fixedly at the ceiling during her maniac venting, "…from what I remember, it started at my very first kindergarten dance recital! Afterwards, Daddy claimed he was kept late at work, but all I knew, I was the best ever dandelion in my flower costume, and he wasn't even there to see it! I never got over it, even when he brought me a pony! My issues with Daddy didn't stop there, either…"
Knowing this was going to take a while, Xander wandered back out into the living room, where he dropped onto the sofa there in front of the suite's big-screen television. Grabbing the remote, the man turned the tv on, hit the 'mute' button, and he surfed the channels for a baseball game.
In the bedroom, Dr. Lilith Sternin, M.D., Ph.D., Ed.D., A.P.A., took a sip from her cup, to then return to intently listening to her newest patient. Apparently, Ms. Summers had transferred her paternal affection from this male relation to someone else during high school immediately after being abandoned by her father. It was highly suggestive that this new authority figure bore the cognomen of 'Angel', given this described a heavenly being, or some individual who served as a guardian and guide. Equally fascinating was how this young woman's first adult lover had his own severe obsession about hair products and devotedly applied these to such a masculine symbol of virility as his coiffure. The connotations with a certain Biblical personage known as Samson were obvious, and in her bedroom chair, a pallid psychologist experienced a vast internal satisfaction over the unquestionably well-received scholarly paper she was going to write concerning this session.
It felt almost as good as the numerous orgasms that delightful lad in the other room had earlier given herself and surely would do so again later on. Taking another sip of her coffee, Lilith allowed a rare, thin smile to appear on her pale complexion, and then she went back to her normally somber expression. All while noting the new name of 'Spike' which had just been uttered by Ms. Summers. Really, even Frasier couldn't have missed this representation of the male sexual nature, though there'd admittedly been a number of times when they'd been married…
Author's Note: The following identifies the television series and people mentioned elsewhere in this story by the chapter titles:
Freud Was A Dick - The Big Bang Theory with Johnny Galecki as the long-suffering Leonard, who has to deal with an imperious Beverly Hofstadter, deliciously presented by Christine Baranski.
Take That, Bitches - Desperate Housewives with Teri Hatcher as Susan Mayer, a genuine hottie even compared to the other ladies at Wisteria Lane.
No Way, Not Ever - Dexter with Michael C. Hall as Dexter Morgan, the avenging serial killer of other and much more foul murderers, and Julie Benz as Rita Bennett (and yes, she also portrayed Darla the vampire on BtVS).
It's Not Like He Inhaled - Weeds with Mary-Louise Parker as Nancy Botwin, the drug-dealing suburban mom, who makes crime sexy.
When In Doubt, Go To Oscar - Gilmore Girls with Lauren Graham and Alexis Bledel as Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, respectively. A riff on those two female characters' incessant dialogue.
Detailed Notes Will Be Necessary, Dear - Friends with the six people in the apartment played by you-know-who, but it was Morgan Fairchild amusingly acting as Chandler's mother on several episodes, all while being an author of several erotic novels (probably the only books Joey ever read since high school).
Is There A Problem? - Both Cheers and Frasier were blessed with Bebe Neuwirth's presence as Lilith Sternin, who married Frasier Crane and then divorced this good doctor. Indeed bearing a menacing first name variously attributed to Adam's first wife (before Eve, as a matter of fact) and a Hebrew demoness, Lilith's arrival anywhere is usually presaged by having the walls dripping blood, among other signs of the apocalypse. Which is just one of her minor foibles, in Xander's opinion, who's dealt with worse. Much worse.