Pairing: X,S
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Joss signed the rights over to me, bitches. Eat your hearts out.
Feedback: Only if it’s from Irish women named “Talulah”.
Notes/Spoilers: Unbeta'd and nope.
Summary: During Scooby meetings, what deep thoughts lurk behind our favorite pair of brown eyes?
Oblivious
by
Beetle
Scooby meetings would be ever so much easier if they were Spike-free.
I mean, every time I look up from The Uncanny X-Men, he’s giving me that creepy, undead, British-guy leer. Is that a British-guy thing? Giles doesn’t do that and he’s a British guy. He’s the most British guy there ever was. And not so much with the leering, really. Neither was Ethan Rayne. Huh. And, gah! Ethan Rayne plus leering equals Xander losing his Ho-hos and orange soda all over Giles’ musty old tome with the weird name - okay that title has to be in some weird demony language, ‘cause there’s no way Malleus Maleficarum is the name of any human book.
And he’s still leering! Is it an all-purpose leer? I’m pretty sure it’s all-purpose leering. I’ve seen him look at Buffy, Riley, Wills, Giles, Angel, Anya, Tara, a lamppost and any customer that wanders into the Magic Box that way. It’s not just me. He’s an equal opportunity leerer. Leers at everyone, be they male, female or sheep -
Oh, God, now that I’ve been confronted with the possibility of a bisexual, bestial Spike the likelihood of my recently-eaten snacks saying “hello, world” has increased dramatically. Damnit, why’d I have to bring sheep into it? Now there’s a mental picture with surround sound and eew.
Stop leering, Evil Undead! Eyes off my - okay, you’re not staring at my neck, not unless my neck has relocated to crotch level and eew you’re not staring at my crotch, are you? Sicko bloodsucker. Peroxided, homosexual vampire! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The homosexual thing, not the vampire thing. Vampires: Grrr. Homosexuals: Yay! -
And that didn’t come out right at all.
Vampire homosexuals: Grrr. Human homosexuals: Yay!
There. That’s better.
Crap. Why's everyone looking at me like that?
Oh, shit. Did I say that homosexual-yay thing out loud? Nah, Giles probably just asked me something about - what the heck was he rambling about? He looks kinda pissed at me, so it must’ve been something really important and long-winded. Double shit. Wonder if he’s noticed the comic book I’ve so cleverly hidden out in plain sight? Or did he see the soda I dribbled on the gi-normous demonic tome..? Well, probably not; he couldn’t possibly see that tiny stain from across the room, right? ‘Sides, I always spill stuff on his books. He loves that.
And Spike is leering for all he’s worth, now, eyes going back and forth between my face and my naughty no-no area. Not good. Not good. Very not good. I said it out loud, didn’t I? Oh, God, I said ‘homosexuals: yay’ out loud. Here comes the mocking. Bring on the contempt. I’m ready for it, Spike, you undead freak.
“Xander.”
“Whuh?” Giles is really giving me the librarian-glare full throttle. What is his childhood trauma?
“While I am pleased that you feel so very comfortable around us all, Xander...” he’s taking off the glasses to give them a good polishing with his... tie? Very un-Giles. This can’t be good. “If you would so kindly mind your zipper. The girls seem to find you - er, that, that is - rather distracting.”
I think the reason my brain is so slow on the uptake sometimes, is to put off the hideous, crushing embarrassment for as long as possible. And God bless my brain. My stupid, forgot-to-zip-us-up brain.
Yeah, any second, now, the embarrassment’ll hit and I’ll be forced to wish the Hellmouth would open up and swallow me and, this being an active Hellmouth, I’m so not gonna wish that out loud. And, really -
“Xander! Zip! Now!” Buffy has that stake-hurling look, even though she’s thankfully stake-less; the only person blushing harder than her is Tara. Poor Tara. I understand if you can never look me in the crotch - in the eye! Never look me in the eye! - again.
Up comes Mr. Zipper at Warp 9, somehow not damaging any of the Harris tackle-o’-love. And the Malleus Maleficarum? Slow reading, but excellent camouflage for the crotchal area. The issue of The Uncanny X-Men that goes right on top of it is just the perfect splash of color. Matches my particular shade of shame exactly.
And lookee - Anya is way too interested in me being exposed in front of our friends. That look says she’s gonna jump me right here, which is disturbingly hot and - disturbingly similar to the leer Spike’s been wearing for the whole meeting.
Oh. Crap.
Why didn’t I just do my laundry last night? At least I’d have a springtime fresh scent and, oh, I dunno - UNDERWEAR between my open fly and the rest of the world. Why, oh why me?
Lovely, pet. Very nice, my undead roomie mouths at me, still giving me the leer that may be all-purpose, but still means only one, rotten, no-good thing.
A rotten, no-good thing that I and my naughty no-no area find both disturbing and repugnant.
Nope. Not turned on at all.
The End
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