Chronos' Puppet

The first thing Xander noted when he started to wake was that there was a pair of arms
circling him from behind.

Mmmm....Anya.

Semiconsciously he wiggled backwards into the 'spoon', his morning erection
eagerly solidifying at the closeness of the other warm body...until he felt an answering
hardness in return that poked his hip insistently. Eyelids flew open and as he stared at the
strange, paisley green wallpaper Xander suddenly remembered where he was.

Oh.

Shit.

'Okay. Don't panic,' he commanded himself. 'Last thing you need to do is freak
out. This is all a dream; you're back in Sunnyhell in bed with your girlfriend and have
not just cheated on her with pre-Bleach Head.' Slowly he turned over, pointedly ignoring
the dried fluid that pulled at his skin as he moved, and blinked at the cherubic face of a
slumbering William.

In an instant he was out of bed, head aiming at the nearest potted plant where he
retched into the dirt. Retched, because his stomach was empty and Xander quickly found
that the 'heaves' were infinitely worse then vomiting. His attention was so focused on his
revolting insides that he failed to notice a cool cloth being applied to his face before his
head was pulled back and liquid was forced down his throat. The water did it's job and
with an empty bowl thrust into shaking hands Xander finally found relief as he brought up
the fluid and promptly passed out on the floor.

William sighed, catching the bowl and letting his friend fall to the ground. The
foul liquid sloshed and threatened to spill, but never did and he carefully set it aside before
dragging the stricken man back to bed. Will himself wasn't' feeling so well, but obviously
not so bad off as 'James'. He would be dehydrated. Finding a housecoat kept for guests in
the closet he shrugged it on and slipped out to empty the bowl before returning with it,
some towels, and two glasses of water.

The busywork was good. It wasn't allowing him to think of things. Namely, what
had happened the night before. Oh, he remembered it. All of it in fact, and that he liked it
very much. This new information was all very unsettling, but somehow it wasn't so
upsetting as the thought that Xander would leave and never return. He forced Xander to
take smaller sips, satisfied that his friend ('lover?' his mind teased) was keeping it down.

As usual his mother never inquired, and his father was never home to care. Today
she was out once more with the Ladies Auxiliary while the staff of the household never
deviated from their tasks. They were used to William's invertedness, and left him most
times in peace in his unawkward solitude. After cleaning himself off reasonably well the
Englishman pulled up a nearby chair and slumped exhausted into it. Sipping from his glass
he caught Xander's sigh and glanced up to see him tuck into a ball, chocolate curls framing
his face in a style that emulated Boticelli's painted subjects. Will blinked once, again
startled but this time it brought a determined smile to his face. Quietly slipping from the
room he quickly returned with his notebook and pen, the nub soon scratching furiously as
the words flowed from him to trace themselves onto the page.

*****


Xander had been in the bathroom a while now, staring at his reflection in the
guided, oval mirror that hung over the detached porcelain sink. Finding William dozing in
his chair he had located his jeans beside the night table where he had apparently thrown
them in a rush of alcohol-induced passion. Xander searched his reflection as though his
double contained the answers, but apparently the man in the mirror was just as hungover
and stubbly, eyes squinting back at Xander as if to say 'What? I thought YOU knew what
we were doing!'

He turned on the cold water again for the fifth time (after he burned himself the
first couple of tries with the thrice-damned unmarked tap heads) and splashed his face.
God, what had he done!

"Okay Xan." he said to his double, "Lets look at the situation. You always
wondered what it would be like to sleep with a guy and now you know...even if you can't
remember a thing. Alright with the gay-thing, because Willow and Tara are so hot
together, but now you're admitting that you think Spike isn't too bad looking, with those
amazing blue eyes, that lean body that can't be legal, the accent, and that walk and I'm
thinking too much about this because Little Xan obviously agrees with the Willow-babble
in my brain." Xander sighed, and rubbed at his eyes with the broad palms of his hands.
"Shit. What am I going to do?" Anya so far didn't come up as a factor since this was the
past and again, Xander technically didn't exist yet. If that excuse didn't work he could
always claim temporary insanity from the sses ses of time travel, and Giles had better back
him up on it when he got back or Xander would be a dead man.

If he got back.

"James? Are you alright in there? It has been nearly an hour." William's tenor
derailed Xander's train of thought and his eyes shifted nervously towards the door. 'Well,
time to face the music,' he thought, and readjusting his jeans he turned the knob.

Will had woken once he heard the sound of running water down the hall and
allowed his guest some solitude as he worked on his poem. It was when he set it aside
satisfied in its progress that he looked at the ticking mantle clock and went to check on his
strange guest. Now that he could see him looking worse for ear but obviously more alive
then earlier that morning the strange, pleasant nervousness in his stomach returned with a
vengeance. He struggled to keep his eyes on Xander's face. 'Oh Will,' he thought to
himself, 'this is quite the conundrum we have found, isn't it.' Realising that the other man
had been speaking he shook his head and blinked, dislodging the unruly curls that jostled
for position in front of his glasses. "Pardon?"

Xander, his mind still in a fog from the hangover didn't realise that he had reached
out and brushed the blond strands from Will's eyes until his hand was returning to the
doorframe. "Just saying I'm fine, and thanks for...um...with me being sick..."

"You're welcome, James." Blue orbs blinked owlishly behind the wire-rimmed
spectacles and they stared at each other for a moment, trying to figure out what to do.

"Ah, sorry Will." It was all Xander could think of. Sorry for this mess, for the
vomit-fest that morning, for teasing him 150 years from now...everything. Will seemed
startled for a moment, unsure of the awkwardness before he smiled shyly and stepped
back from the door. They had to leave this behind if the situation was to be salvaged.

"Think nothing of it. I found some clothes of my father's that I think will suite you
nicely, then maybe we can go for a cuppa. I have to run an errand this afternoon and I
would like the company if you want to join me?" The last was an obvious question, and
Xander couldn't find it in himself to say no and run off screaming into the London streets.

"Sounds like An And clothing is definitely of the good here. Look Sp...ah...Will.
About last night..."
"We were intoxicated. No advantages were taken, so nothing to worry about."
Will had turned down the hall towards the guest room, trying to hide the disappointment
that tainted his voice. It would be better for everyone if the episode was put behind them
as a fluke, especially if James was intending to live in London. His affluent neighbours
didn't take well to 'deviants' in their city.