The Hours: Sext
Jan. 27th, 2009 08:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunCharacters: Xander, Faith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A lovable fuzzy puppet as an agent of evil, bent on securing Hell on Earth through catchy songs about manners and nifty cartoon shorts with ladybugs? That’s crazy talk, even by Hellmouth standards.
A/N: Fourth in my series of shorts focusing on the unseen moments before the fall of Sunnydale. The first three stories are Matins, Lauds, and Prime. However, each story can be read as standalone piece.
He loves the sunshine. No monsters in the sunshine. Well, maybe Cookie Monster. But who’s gonna mind a visit from Cookie Monster? He brings cookies. That’s gotta be nothing but a positive.
Unless he’s an actual demon, Xander thinks with a jolt. There were cookie demons. But a lovable fuzzy puppet as an agent of evil, bent on securing Hell on Earth through catchy songs about manners and nifty cartoon shorts with ladybugs? That’s crazy talk, even by Hellmouth standards.
The wood is warm under his hand, taking on the heat of his body as he basks in the high noon sun. High noon. That’s really what they’re facing. This is the O.K. Corral. The big showdown between the good guys and the bad guys and are they ready?
“So,” he hears from over his shoulder, “you always play with your wood on the porch?”
“Yeah,” he answers easily. “Outside in the middle of the day is actually the only place I’m not flashing this bad boy at a young girl.”
“Pretty sad state of affairs,” Faith cracks, coming to sit next to him on the steps. “How many of those you have now?”
“Well, Faith, most guys only have the one. But lucky for you, I’m fully equipped.”
“So I remember,” she shoots back and he freezes for a moment, the sand paper skidding to a halt.
He turns to look at her and she has the grace to wince. He likes that. The Faith he remembers wouldn’t have been uncomfortable, wouldn’t have noticed his discomfort.
“Glad I’m a fond memory,” he says quietly, turning back to his work. “Should have enough stakes to outfit’em all. Not that stakes will do much against the uber-vamps.”
“Maybe,” she concedes. “Never know. Some of the tiny tots could get lucky, find a weak spot.”
It’s his turn to wince. Hoping for a weak spot seems to be their only strategy these days.
“Did you ever watch Sesame Street?” he asks abruptly.
She stares at him, her face gone slack with confusion. “Uh, yeah. When I was little. Ma used to put it on for me in the mornings so she could sleep. I didn’t like it.”
Now it’s his turn to be confused. “Why not?”
“Too many damn monsters,” she says softly. “Even baby Slayers get the dreams, Xan. I liked Mister Rogers more. He had fish, a trolley, those puppets…not quite as demonic.”
He nods thoughtfully, tossing the finished stake into his growing pile. Maybe she’s right and there aren’t any nice monsters. But as he picks up the next piece of wood, he can’t stop the soft tune from escaping under his breath.
He wants to believe. He doesn’t because after everything, after Angelus and Spike and Ford and Dracula and the Bug Lady and his whole damn life here in Sunnydale, he’s never seen a nice monster. Monsters have done nice things, but he can’t say they are nice.
The porch darkens and he glances up to see thick clouds gathering. It’s coming now, close, and no theme song is going to help. But he keeps humming as he works the sandpaper along the grain of the wood. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Faith, a faint smile teasing up the corners of her lips, eyes focused on the preternaturally quiet street.
Sunny days, sweeping the clouds away…
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A lovable fuzzy puppet as an agent of evil, bent on securing Hell on Earth through catchy songs about manners and nifty cartoon shorts with ladybugs? That’s crazy talk, even by Hellmouth standards.
A/N: Fourth in my series of shorts focusing on the unseen moments before the fall of Sunnydale. The first three stories are Matins, Lauds, and Prime. However, each story can be read as standalone piece.
He loves the sunshine. No monsters in the sunshine. Well, maybe Cookie Monster. But who’s gonna mind a visit from Cookie Monster? He brings cookies. That’s gotta be nothing but a positive.
Unless he’s an actual demon, Xander thinks with a jolt. There were cookie demons. But a lovable fuzzy puppet as an agent of evil, bent on securing Hell on Earth through catchy songs about manners and nifty cartoon shorts with ladybugs? That’s crazy talk, even by Hellmouth standards.
The wood is warm under his hand, taking on the heat of his body as he basks in the high noon sun. High noon. That’s really what they’re facing. This is the O.K. Corral. The big showdown between the good guys and the bad guys and are they ready?
“So,” he hears from over his shoulder, “you always play with your wood on the porch?”
“Yeah,” he answers easily. “Outside in the middle of the day is actually the only place I’m not flashing this bad boy at a young girl.”
“Pretty sad state of affairs,” Faith cracks, coming to sit next to him on the steps. “How many of those you have now?”
“Well, Faith, most guys only have the one. But lucky for you, I’m fully equipped.”
“So I remember,” she shoots back and he freezes for a moment, the sand paper skidding to a halt.
He turns to look at her and she has the grace to wince. He likes that. The Faith he remembers wouldn’t have been uncomfortable, wouldn’t have noticed his discomfort.
“Glad I’m a fond memory,” he says quietly, turning back to his work. “Should have enough stakes to outfit’em all. Not that stakes will do much against the uber-vamps.”
“Maybe,” she concedes. “Never know. Some of the tiny tots could get lucky, find a weak spot.”
It’s his turn to wince. Hoping for a weak spot seems to be their only strategy these days.
“Did you ever watch Sesame Street?” he asks abruptly.
She stares at him, her face gone slack with confusion. “Uh, yeah. When I was little. Ma used to put it on for me in the mornings so she could sleep. I didn’t like it.”
Now it’s his turn to be confused. “Why not?”
“Too many damn monsters,” she says softly. “Even baby Slayers get the dreams, Xan. I liked Mister Rogers more. He had fish, a trolley, those puppets…not quite as demonic.”
He nods thoughtfully, tossing the finished stake into his growing pile. Maybe she’s right and there aren’t any nice monsters. But as he picks up the next piece of wood, he can’t stop the soft tune from escaping under his breath.
He wants to believe. He doesn’t because after everything, after Angelus and Spike and Ford and Dracula and the Bug Lady and his whole damn life here in Sunnydale, he’s never seen a nice monster. Monsters have done nice things, but he can’t say they are nice.
The porch darkens and he glances up to see thick clouds gathering. It’s coming now, close, and no theme song is going to help. But he keeps humming as he works the sandpaper along the grain of the wood. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Faith, a faint smile teasing up the corners of her lips, eyes focused on the preternaturally quiet street.
Sunny days, sweeping the clouds away…
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no subject
on 2009-01-28 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-29 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-28 06:38 am (UTC)Banter, banter...uncomfortable memories. But they're adults, decent and really trying.
Faith's memories of Sesame Street! Harsh, like the rest of her life. Sigh. Poor kid.
Great, Xanderific imagery. High Noon, O.K. Corral, Sunny days...
This is wonderful.
no subject
on 2009-01-29 02:34 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked this!
no subject
on 2009-01-28 04:50 pm (UTC)...and am I the only one thinking about "Smile Time"?
Poor guy wouldn't like hearing about that one. :P
no subject
on 2009-01-29 02:36 am (UTC)Poor Xan. And I'm so glad you enjoyed this. :)