Chronos' Puppet

Four pints later and a rousing chorus of God Save the King (for which Xander hummed
what he knew from the Sex Pistols tape that Spike had blasted from his crypt every night)
the pair stumbled into a very stately house in the upper-class end of the city. Xander
wasn't sure how this had happened, but William was convinced that his new friend was an
unfortunate, stranded foreigner (because 'no self respecting Englishman would ever be
found dead in a shirt like that'), had offered him lodgings until he could get himself back
on his feet and wouldn't take no for an answer. It didn't surprise Xander that alcohol
made the shy, mousy poet more bold in his ideas, not to mention slurred in his speech so it
was nearly impossible to understand him.

It was nearly midnight, and the streetlamps buzzed as darkness blanketed the
ancient city. The house was quiet as William's mother had long since turned in for the
night. Seeing this as an opportunity for privacy the poet threw his coat across the chair
and grabbed for the Merlot and two glasses. Flopping down into the nearest chair, he
poured a generous amount of the red liquid for Xander and passed him the glass as his
guest settled into the adjacent couch nearby. "Y'er a good chap, J'mes. Ye don' make
jokes at me expense...well...bad ones. Me hair don' really look like a hedgehog, does it?"

"Thanks...an' itsa squirrel. Big...fat...mean...squirrel. With teeth." Xander snorted
into his wine before taking a mouthful and quickly swallowed before the yawn hit.
Grinning over at William he leaned over the edge of the couch and tweaked a dark blonde
curl. "Must make th' women wild...gotta beat'em off with a stick, or whatever you British
beat things with."

" 'You British'? An' wha're you then, Irish?" William busied himself with pouring
another glass and gulped it down to beat back the thoughts of Cecily. Xander meanwhile,
raised his fist in the air, and beamed proudly at what he was about to admit. "'M
Am'ricun!"

"Yeah? Cor, yer a funny buncha gits if yer all like tha'. Ladies talk like ya and
wearin' big blinding shirts like ye do? We didn' lose the colonies, we ran in fear." The
very image alone caused William to shudder, and he curled up into his chair to nurse his
wine. Xander, completely missing the jab at his country frowned for a moment in thought
before answering. Damn...whatever this wine was, it was quite a kick in the head. Then
again, the beer on top of an empty stomach was probably not helping. "Nope. Them's all
like women everywhere. Dress nice, smell nice...break a guy's heart faster then she can
tell you to fuck off. Oh....sorry, 'bugger off'. So what happened with Cecily anyway?"
The words slipped out before Xander could rein them in. He was pretty sure he didn't
want that knowledge when and if he returned home (funny how that 'if' seemed to slide
itself in there), but before he could take it back William was answering him.

"Thought I was beneath 'er." He was staring hard into his wine, as though the
answer to why this was lay at the bottom of the glass. Xander whistled, and drained the
last of his portion before setting his glass carefully on the floor. "Ouch, man. M'sorry.
Got that one too, ya know? Though it was more like 'Eww...no!' or something like that."
Xander cradled his chin in his hand as he tripped down memory lane where all the girls
who had rejected him from grade three on stared on in pity. Shaking it off he looked up at
William and grinned. "Maybe we kiss'em wrong or somethin', because I can't figure it
out."

William shrugged, and set his finished wine glass next to the empty bottle by the
chair. "Dunno, chap. Never kissed a girl before. Never kissed a bloke either, so can't
answer that one proper." It was only meant to be a joke, but something about that
statement caused William's nerves to twinge, and not in an unpleasant manner. The poet
blamed it on the wine and ignored it without much success.

Xander likewise was having a crisis to that statement. It opened up an entirely
different field of possibilities that he knew of but never, ever looked at. At least not while
sober, and even then only briefly. However, Will did look kind of cute with that lopsided,
drunken grin and...*No! Stop that!* He told himself. Trying to bring the good natured
humour back into the conversation he answered William with a laugh and tried to stomp it
out of his thoughts. "Me neither. Don't think either of us will find out the answer to that
one. Nope...not us."

"Really?" the sigh that filtered back to him seemed almost out of disappointment.
Wait...why was Will disappointed about that? Xander blinked over at the Englishman,
who's head now lolled back against the armrest, glasses dangling precariously from the
se gse grip while the other free hand had assigned its fingers to massage the bridge of his
nose. "Would've liked to know what it was like at some point."

It was meant as the punchline to the ongoing jest between them. Neither expected
that the offer would be taken; certainly not Xander who leaned over the sprawling man to
show him what he was missing, nor William who pressed up tentatively into the kiss
without a second thought. *Spike!* Screamed Xander's conscience to his achohol-fuzzed
brain, *I'm kissing Spike! I have a ex-vengeance demon girlfriend; I shouldn't be doing
this!* Whatever shred of logic remained with him agreed to this, but also made him aware
that no, this was not the vampire but someone vastly different and the objection was
voided under the insistent flood of hormones that charged through his system. As for
Anya...well, he was back in time. Technically, he didn't even exist yet. After a while they
finally came up for air, William's shallow breaths mingling with Xander's until the
American spoke. "Well...that can't be why girls don't like us then."

Will blinked in agreement, lips seemingly detached as they fumbled to form words.
"That was nice...very nice." He knew if someone walked in right now, word would spread
quickly through his colleagues about the kiss whether he liked it or not. And God save
him, he wanted more. Cecily had made his heart race and his palms sweat, but this James
had unexpectedly set his very soul on fire. The wine finally yanked William's courage to
the foreground, and he dared to look up into the darkened face to see if the other man felt
the same.

Any blood that remained in Xander's head was useless thanks to the alcohol. He
shouldn't have kissed William the Bloody, and he sure as hell shouldn't have enjoyed it.
The poet beneath him was trying to catch his breath, looking very unsure about
everything. Xander sobered slightly as realisation started to creep in but before it had a
chance to take hold and pull him back from the chair, he heard the words and saw the eyes
that searched his own for the meaning. So close to the ocean blue it threatened to drown
him as he sank deep inside its depths, and the last of his resolve left with its friend
common sense as he answered William's unspoken question with another kiss.

This time it was though a dam had been blasted open. Neither one gave a care
about who could walk in, only that this very demanding feeling had to be addressed. Lips
parted away to let the tongues behind explore each other's mouth, and Xander felt fingers
weave themselves tentatively through his hair. During quick snatches of breath both
agreed that this was very wrong and that they should stop and turn in for the night.
However, their bodies rebelled and soon their wills followed without much of a fight.
Finally, it was Xander who pulled William to his feet despite the objective whine that
sounded in the back of his mind.

"Seriously, Will. Should turn in. Don't want to give your mother a stroke, do
we?" The poet, looking thoroughly drunk and dishevelled laughed loudly before he
covered his mouth against the noise with a furious blush and Xander was pretty sure that if
they didn't go then that he would tackle the Englishman right in the living room.
Something in his dark eyes must have hinted of this, because William swallowed hard and
picked up the oil lamp to light their way to the bedrooms. The stairs creaked mercilessly
under their combined weight, but thankfully nothing stirred from the rooms above.
Eventually William stopped midway down the hall and opened a door, glancing nervously
at his friend who seemed ready to leap out of his skin. "This'll be your room. Mine's at
the end on the right." Xander nodded, and before Will could protest he pulled the other
man into the room and locked the door behind them.