I Will Survive

Title: I Will Survive
Author: Scarlet
Fandom: Buffy/CSI
Pairing: Xander/Greg
Rating: NC-17
Category: PWP
Status: completed
Archive: Let me know before you archive it so that I can visit it once in a while!
Feedback: …is like oxygen.
Email: scarletsfin@yan@yahoo.com
Authors Web Site: www.geocities.com/scarletsfiction
Disclaimers: The characters are not mine but are property of many other entities, including but not limited to: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, CBS, William Peterson, Jerry Bruckheimer and quite possibly God himself. Or herself. Or itself. Got it?
Authors Notes: Thanks to Katie and Grace for the beta
Spoilers: Season 7 of Buffy, no real spoilers for CSI
Summary: The Scooby gang is on vacation and, on his first night "out", Xander Harris runs into the cutest CSI in Las Vegas.
Warnings: none

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"Are you sure you're feeling okay? We can call Giles and Andrew's room. I'm sure they can ditch their Watcher's Symposium to take you to a doctor," Willow offered.

"Yeah," Buffy added. "This is Las Vegas. There has to be a doctor available somewhere." Buffy looked at Xander with concern as she plucked at her sheer, sparkling dress.

Xander, not as elegantly attired in a ratty blue bathrobe, answered, "I'm okay, Buffy. I just think maybe that shrimp cocktail didn't like me as much as I liked it. But it's all right. Dawn can play Florence Nightingale."

"Yeah. Vegas sucks for the 'under twenty-one' crowd", the young girl whined.

"As long as you're sure you don't mind that we're leaving without you," Willow said, taking Kennedy's hand. "It just won't be the same without you spazzing out on the dance floor with us, Xander. Remember that time, Buffy, that bartender though Xander was having an epileptic fit and--"

"--and they called the ambulance!" Buffy finished.

"And that guy was all," Willow threw her voice deep. "'This is not a laughing matter, young man.'"

"Oh, yeah!" Buffy lowered her voice. "'Do you want me to take you downtown and book you--'"

"--Thank you! Thank you, girls. I remember now why I love going out with the Estrogen Patrol so, *so* much."

"Awww…Xander. We always want you with us," Kennedy said.

"Are you *sure* you can't come with us?" Buffy tried for the last time.

"Shrimp. Stomach. Potential vomit. You girls go and have fun."

Willow gave Xander a final, long-suffering look and the led the gaggle of perfumed women from their suite.

Dawn and Xander sat perfectly still for over a minute, then Dawn stood and raced to the door, sticking her head out.

"Are they gone?" Xander asked, getting out of bed and standing up.

She turned with a delighted smile from the door. "Elvis has left the building--or at least this floor. Okay, take it off," she ordered, leaving the door ajar.

Xander worked at the knot in his bathrobe and peeled it off to reveal expensive new cargo pants and a tight t-shirt.

"The shirt is too big. What else did we get this morning?" Dawn asked, rummaging through shopping bags hidden in Xander's luggage.

"Too big? It's practically skin-tight."

"*Practically*. I want it *totally* skin-tight."

"Listen Dawnster. I love that you want to play Grace to my Will, but I’m not sure I'm ready for this step."

"Sure you are. You just have to be brave. I know you can be brave." She smiled adoringly at her friend and passed him a small, dark blue baseball tee. "Try this one."

Xander quickly stripped off the skin-tight shirt in favor of the oxygen-robbing-tight shirt and admired Dawn's choice. "Is there some significance to the number fourteen on the front? Something I don't know 'cause I'm not really 'out' and totally inexperienced with this stuff? This doesn't mean I like watersports or I'm into S&M or something, does it?"

"No, I think that's just scarves or bandannas. Geez, Xander. Relax. You're just going to a club. Have a drink, dance, hang out. If it sucks, come back and we can watch 'X-2' again." Xander's eyes lit up. "I said *if* it sucks. You have to give this a chance. Vegas is the perfect place to *go* out and *come* out in the same night."

Xander slipped on his shoes and socks, shifting as the tight tee pulled across his shoulders. "If I'm going to a gay club, shouldn't I be wearing crushed velvet or an expensive designer or something?"

"Xander, you're *gay*. You're not *Lorne*. Chill out! Now turn around." Dawn began plucking at his shirt and hair, arranging it so that it fell artfully across the strap of his eyepatch. "You look *hot*! Now go out there and have some gay sex!" The young woman beamed at her protégé.

"I'm really nervous, Dawnie, and you saying 'gay sex' does not make me feel more comfortable. This is going to suck beyond all things which have sucked before."

"Come on, Xander. At least try to give it an hour. For the sake of those that love you, get laid."

Xander stood up straighter. "I won't let you down." There was silence in the room for a few seconds. "You do know that I'll probably be back here in a half an hour, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know," she nodded with a sigh.

"Just making sure we all have realistic expectations."

Suddenly the suite door burst open and Andrew came bounding in. "Did I miss it?"

"You couldn’t miss it, Geekboy. *You* have the address," Dawn scolded. "You did get the name of the place from the concierge, didn't you?"

"Yeah. And that was very embarrassing so I'm not doing that again, no matter how much I care about my friends. No offense, Xander." Andrew began searching his pockets. "This is *so* cool. I feel like our little baby is finally going out into that big, gay world." Andrew gave a theatrical sniff and triumphantly pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "This is the place. The concierge guy said it's supposed to be cool. Remember, try to give it at leas--"

"--an hour. I know. Dawn already told me the rules."

"Well, good luck then, Xan. I really hope things work out for you tonight." The blond-haired boy gave a goofy grin and edged toward the door. "Speaking of which, I can't stay. Rupert is ordering room service and he'll get all…British, if I'm late." Andrew grinned shyly and walked to the door.

"You two are *so* cute. I still can't believe that Buffy and Willow bought that whole "Watcher's Symposium" thing. *So* transparent."

"It got us all to Vegas, didn't it?" Andrew laughed as he left.

Alone a, Da, Dawn turned her attention to Xander.

"Wallet?"

"Check," Xander answered, patting his rear pocket.

"Breath mints?"

"Check."

"I.D.?"

"Check."

"Condoms?"

"Check," Xander blushed, and then patted a small zipper compartment on his pants.

"I think you're ready to go," Dawn said. "And remember, ONE HOUR!"

Xander stared at her nervously and then finally said, "Well this is it. Showtime."

*****

Xander ordered a beer and waited impatiently as the bartender filled his order. The club--the name of which he'd long since forgotten--was crawling with men. Xander felt a bit like a kid in a candy store.

"Here you go," the bartender said, sliding the huge cup across the bar.

"No bottle?" Xander shouted above the music.

"Glass brakes. Too dangerous on the floor," the bartender said, indicating the throng of men writhing under the pulsing blue light.

"Right," Xander said, taking his beer and heading for the nearest dark corner. He sipped his beer and succeeded in finding a small table with a tottering barstool that had only a dozen half-empty drinks on it. More comfortable now that his back was to the wall and he was safely ensconced into his wallflower status, Xander surveyed the scene around him.

He had to admit that it was nice going to a club where the *humans* were in the majority, let alone gay men. He watched as two men, tall and absurdly well muscled, walked by. One had his hand deeply buried down the pants of the other. Xander was suddenly very conscious of why Dawn had insisted on buying the "easy access" cargo pants. There were some things Dawn should just not know about, he decided.

Hands Down Someone's Pants was working his goateed partner furiously as Xander watched. Realizing that he was ogling the couple, Xander turned to the dance floor where even more exhibitionism had him crossing his legs with embarrassment and arousal.

A lot of these men, he decided, were definitely Not His Type. Like Goldilocks, he surveyed each man with the critical eye of a first-timer. Too tall. Too short. Too much facial hair. Wearing overalls…Xander watched Mr. Too Tall dance closer to Facial Hair. He leaned in and whispered into his ear. The began dancing closer, grinding expertly to the music. Xander was impressed. A few words and the two men were halfway to Happytown.

Directly to Xander's left was a man older than Giles, talking to a guy younger than Andrew. Xander winced at *that* mental picture--knowing the two had been dating for six months as of this week was different than seeing it. Xander's eyes raked back to the dance floor as he took a long drink from his beer, willing it to work quickly. He began tapping on the messy, wet table while his good eye continued to assess the men.

Goatee Guy had met up with Too Blond To Be Natural Hair and Mr. Too Tall was grinding against a redhead with a UNLV t-shirt. With a nod, the four men began moving off of the dance floor, leaving a small hole in the throng of men. Xander was about to look away when the space was suddenly taken by a young man who looked about the same age as himself. It was hard not to notice him--on first glance, his dancing made Xander look good. In loose pants and a green button-down shirt, he also looked like he took after Andrew in fashion sense.

Amused, Xander watched Green Shirt Guy get his groove on on the dance floor. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back; he was lost to the music and the pounding beat. He appeared completely comfortable in his skin and Xander felt himself assessing the man with a mixture of envy and interest. Green Shirt Guy definitely didn't need pep-talks to come to a place like this.

Xander took another sip of his beer and averted his eye when he realized that he was staring. He tried to concentrate on Red Leather Pants dancing with Too Old To Wear Pleather, but his gaze came back to the Green Shirt Guy. Eventually he gave up and stared openly.

The young man's hair spiked out at crazy angles. It was all dark roots and platinum peaks with blue tips everywhere else. His arms flopped at his sides while he lolled his head and jumped from spot to spot around the dance floor, oblivious to the other dancers. Xander looked at his beer when he saw the guy turn his way. Taking a sip, he counted to ten before looking for the guy in the green shirt again.

When he finally turned back, Green Shirt Guy had been claimed by Too Short and the two were wrapped around each other. For some reason not known to Xander, he felt a stab of jealousy. Too Short had one hand around Green Shirt Guy and was stroking his ass as he ground into him. The spiky-haired dancer let his head roll forward and his mouth parted slightly. Xander was transfixed by the sight. His own breathing sped up and he felt himself growing hard.

Xander's gaze was broken by a waiter who sidled up to his cluttered table and began bussing the cups and ashtrays into a tub.

"First time here?"

"Yeah," Xander replied lamely, trying to see past the guy and onto the dance floor but having little success.

"Well, I hope you're enjoying yourself. And if you aren't, you can change that at two a.m. That's when I get off." Confused, Xander looked at the waiter blankly. "Get off *work* that is. I can get off pretty much any time," the man leered. He wiped up the spilled beer from the table. "Just keep that in mind."

The worker left and Xander immediately searched the dance floor, but Green Shirt Guy was long gone. Xander cursed his stupid luck and gulped back more of his beer. He'd be ready for another in a minute. He'd only been here a half an hour, but that wasn't bad. He wouldn't be *too* ashamed to go back to the hotel if he could tell Dawn he'd given it a half an hour. Or maybe he should give it just another couple of minutes. He still had to finish his beer and then--

"Did you know that the eye is composed of more than two million working parts? It has the ability to process over 36,000 pieces of information every hour."

Xander was startled by the voice. He turned to the source and found himself staring into green fabric. He sat back and let his eye slide up to the spiky-haired dancer bouncing in place next to him.

"The average person blinks their eyes about 11,500 times per day or about 4.2 million times per year. You should probably make sure to ingest regular amounts of Vitamin A or carotene--which has Vitamin A--so you don't become susceptible to night blindness in your last eye. You wanna dance?"

"What?" Xander was flustered. Up close, the mystery guy was even hotter than when he was out on the dance floor and Xander found his babble even cuter than Willow's. Xander swallowed hard. "I have a beer," he gestured lamely to his cup. After the epileptic fiasco he'd promised himself that he wouldn’t dance in front of actual people anymore. Especially not with beautiful men that could pass judgment on his skills. He had an ego to protect. Then again, this guy wasn't exactly a great dancer...

"That's fine. It'll give me a chance to wow you with all of the eye trivia I know. Can I sit?" The stranger gestured to the empty stool across from Xander, who smiled and nodded. "Thanks. Cats have the largest eyeballs, relative to their size, of any carnivore." At Xander's questioning look he added, "My friend Nick told me that."

"Nick?" Xander asked, trying to let a small bubble of jealousy diffuse as he nursed his beer.

"Yeah." The blue-haired man grinned. "Nick. He's a co-worker."

"Not a-a boyfriend?" Xander mumbled. Why was he so flustered? was was crazy. He'd never been smooth with the ladies, but this was getting ridiculous. So there was an incredibly attractive guy talking with him? Big deal. So in only ten seconds Xander was wondering what it would feel like to kiss him? No biggie at all.

"No! *Really* not a boyfriend."

The stranger was rewarded with a beaming smile from Xander.

"Wow. I also don't have a girlfriend, travel agent, or chiropractor. Could I get another killer smile for that?"

Xander blushed. Oh, he had it bad. And he'd just met the guy. Time to go on the offensive. "So, do you have a name or should I just keep calling you Green Shirt Guy?"

"Is that my name?" he said with a laugh.

"Yeah," Xander admitted, chuckling.

"What about that guy over there?" The stranger gestured toward the edge of the dance floor.

"That's Too Old To Wear Pleather."

"Funny. I called him Undercover Narcotics Officer Way Out Of His League."

Xander laughed, which made the other guy grin at him.

"Cute Pirate Guy."

"What?" Xander called above the increasingly loud music.

"Cute Pirate Guy. You," the young man explained gesturing to Xander's eye.

Okay, definitely in the blushing, flirting, babbling stage now, Xander thought to himself. Keep very cool and do *not* say anything stupid. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well, you know…usually I prefer 'The Duke'. Kind of a John Wayne thing. True Grit?"

"Ah, yes. The infamous Rooster Cogburn. His only Academy Award, you know."

"The man puts on an eyepatch, and wins an Oscar. He's my new idol. Did you know he once said that if he'd known that would happen, he'd have put on an eyepatch thirty-five years ago? I guess there's hope for us one-eyed-freaks after all."

The other guy stared at him for a long time before finally saying, "You have no idea, do you?"

"No idea about what?" Though Xander didn't know what he was talking about, he knew the guy wasn't kidding. Green Shirt Guy was examining his face and eyepatch openly, then he leaned in close until his lips were brushing Xander's ear. Xander felt his skin goosebump at the unexpected contact and an involuntary shiver went up his spine.

"No idea how hot you are." He said it simply and the sat back, his eyes never leaving Xander's. "But you are. Hot. I’m Greg Sanders."

"Xander Harris," Xander answered. "And if you give me a minute, I'd just like to take this opportunity to pick my tongue up where it's dragging on the floor and then let you have your wicked way with me," he wanted to add, but instead grabbed his cup of beer.

"Well, Xander Harris. Finish your drink. I want to dance with you." Greg was wiggling impatiently on his barstool.

"I, uh…I don't dance. Anymore."

"You're at a dance club and you don't dance?"

"There was this whole *thing* at this place I used to go and the ultimate, exciting conclusion was that Xander Harris should not go on the dance floor."

"Really? Where did you used to go?"

"This place called the Bronze? It's in my hometown. Or it was. It's gone now," Xander yelled over the music.

"This club's not there anymore?"

"More like the town. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Got it. You're a man of mystery. I can dig it…" Greg grinned at him. "A challenge, then…interesting. So how do I get the shy yet *incredibly* hot wallflower to loosen up? Cheap beer doesn't seem to be working and I've used all of the ocular humor I had in reserve. I guess I'll have to settle for making an offer you can't resist."

"I'm listening," Xander said, downing his beer.

"Okay, if you're not having a good time in fifteen minutes, then you go…walk out that door…don't turn around now…cause you're not welcome anymore…" Much to Xander's amazement, Greg's proposal became musical as he began to belt out Gloria Gaynor. He grabbed Xander's hand and pulled him from his stool, directing him to the dance floor.

Once he was on the floor, the desire to run naked through the hotel lobby began to sound more enjoyable than dancing among the men that clearly knew what they were doing. They sweated, writhed, and all but fucked on the dance floor and Xander was preparing to join them in all of his barely-out-of-the-closet glory.

"Just look at me," Greg ordered. He began to dance and urged Xander to follow his lead. To his credit, the blue-haired man wasn't leaping and bouncing as he'd been doing earlier. Xander managed to recollect how he'd danced in those long-ago days at the Bronze and moved with him. Greg seemed pleased. "You've got it! See?"

"Well, only with one eye," Xander joked.

Greg roared with laughter and Xander joined him. He was beginning to feel more comfortable when a large man wearing hardly more than underwear bumped into him, let his eyes rake Xander's torso, and walked away indifferently. Embarrassed, Xander's movements stilled. He tried to continue dancing but he felt snubbed somehow and self-conscious.

"Xander! Hey!" Greg grabbed his bicep and pulled him close. "Remember," he said as he leaned close to Xander, "most of these guys are tourists like you. They come, they dance. They fuck, they *leave*. You don't know them. They don't know you. You don't owe them anything, not even a second thought. You're anonymous here. Nothing they say, nothing they do, can hurt you if you don't want it to, right?"

Was he that transparent or was Greg just that good at reading people? "How'd *you* get so smart?" Xander asked, acutely aware that Greg was still holding his arm. The frenzied dance mix of the last hour had made way for a remix version of something that might have been Alicia Keyes' "Falling In and Out of Love". The mood was increasingly sensual and Xander felt the beer starting to warm him.

"It's my job to be observant."

"What do you do?" Xander shouted.

"I'm a chemist. But I don't want to talk about work right now," Greg shouted back with a smile.

"What *do* you want to do?" Xander dared.

"I want…" He pulled Xander closer until the two bodies were nearly flush with each other. "…to dance." Greg's free hand slipped around Xander's waist while the hand on his bicep stayed where it was. "Remember, Xander. In Las Vegas, you can be totally anonymous."

"I don't think I can picture *you* being anonymous," Xander admitted huskily into the slightly shorter man's ear.

"Says the one-eyed man from nowhere…" Greg's hand ran up and down Xander's arm, kneading at the strong muscles underneath.

Xander swayed with the music. He didn't think he could just grab a stranger and grind away, like couples on all sides of him were doing, but his body didn't agree. He settled for rubbing lightly against Greg's body and hoping the other man wouldn't be shocked or offended like Buffy or Willow would have been.

He was pleased when he felt Greg move closer until their bodies were pressed tightly to each other. Hot breath on his cheek told him that this was a guy who wasn't concerned with personal bubbles or maintaining the Five-Foot Perimeter. Xander was okay with that. More than okay as he felt something pressing up against his leg. Then Greg was speaking to him. It took several seconds before it began to register.

"What?"

"I said, it's been fifteen minutes. Are you having a good time?"

Xander grinned. "Wait! What time is it?"

"Almost midnight, Cinderella. Something I should know?"

"No, I just promised my friends--I told them I'd stay an hour." Greg continued to stare at Xander with a calm smile. "At least an hour. One hour minimum. It was more of a guideline really because--"

Xander felt lips on his throat and tried not to wince. Over a year out of Sunnydale and he couldn’t get vamps out of his head. Then he realized that the lips on his neck belonged to one very hot guy whose erection was pressed hard against his own and all thoughts of a less-than-horny nature fled.

Greg ran his tongue up the side of Xander's throat and over his jaw. One strong hand was clenching at Xander's hip, rocking him closer and pinning their bodies together. Xander bared his throat to his dance partner and let his hands dangle as Greg kissed his jaw and trailed his lips to Xander's ear.

The music was pounding through the floor, through the air, through Xander's body, and his head was buzzing. He was aware of the warm, fuzzy feeling from the beer; the thumping rhythm of the music; and the warm, wet lips on his neck. Beyond that, there simply *was* nothing else. Just here. His body. Greg's body. The dance floor.

"I want you to come home with me."

Xander started, awoken from his trance by Greg's almost amused voice.

"Huh?" He stepped away and tried to focus through the gritty haze of pleasure.

Greg smiled softy and brought his lips back to Xander's ear.

"I want you to come home with me," he repeated.

Xander swallowed hard and nodded, then Greg took his hand and led him off of the dance floor. Eminent sex was on the horizon, but all Xander could think of was that he was holding another man's hand for the first time. If only Dawn and Andrew could see him now.

*****

By the time they got to the parking lot and found Greg's car, Xander was torn. Beautiful guy and the promise of hot sex on one hand, the potential to be stabbed, cut into fillets, and served with a side of potatoes on the other. Watching Xander's concerns play plainly across his face, Greg laughed.

"Relax, Xander. If there's one guy in Vegas you don't have to watch out for, it's me." He opened the door of the silver Volkswagon and stuck his hand in the visor, then removed something and tossed it at Xander. It was an ID badge.

"Las Vegas Crime Lab," Xander read. "You work for the Police Department?"

"Yup," Greg nodded and grinned. "Sort of. Now get in or I'll have you arrested for stealing my heart." Xander groaned at the bad joke. "Okay, not great, I admit. I couldn't really do more than have you dusted for prints anyway, but I could…" Greg placed his hands on Xander's hips again and leaned close, "have a lot of fun *putting* prints on you." His eyes flickered over Xander's face and then his mouth closed over Xander's lips.

They exchanged soft kisses that left Xander breathless. When Greg finally stepped back, Xander tried hard to hide the dopey grin attempting to force its way out. He wasn't successful.

"So you liked that, did you?" Greg asked. Xander nodded, blushing furiously. "Would you like to do it again?"

"Yes, please." Xander watched Greg's lips as they drew in, nipping at his own bottom lip, then gasped softly when Greg's hands pulled their bodies firmly together as they had on the dance floor.

The air was warm and humid and filled with the city-night sounds and smells: gasoline and ozone and the steamy scent of excitement and anticipation. Greg was right. In Las Vegas he could be anonymous. Anyone. Not the Zeppo--not even Xander if he didn't want to be, although he couldn't imagine being anyone else. Xander Harris had gotten him pretty far. With renewed vigor, he parted his lips and began letting his tongue stroke Greg's tongue gently.

Greg released a small gasp of surprise when Xander finally parted for breath. He was panting himself and, Xander noted with some pride, lip-swollen.

"So you liked that, did you?" Xander teased, unable to take his eyes off the curve of Greg's lips or the way his tongue darted out to soothe the tender flesh.

"Very, very liked it," Greg said, smiling. Xander was elated. Sure, he'd kissed people before. But usually those people were of the breast-having variety. He'd never kissed a guy, but he decided then and there to make a much more common practice of it. "Why are you grinning like you just stole the Cracker Jacks prize from your kid sister?"

"Because," Xander said, sliding into the passenger seat as Greg got in the other side, "I am just making *all* kinds of interesting discoveries tonight."

They pulled out of the parking lot, ears still buzzing from the club. Xander was glad Greg had suggested driving. Though he'd never had a really high tolerance for alcohol, the anticipation for this night and an empty stomach had let the single beer leave him with a pleasant buzz that didn't want to wear off. Greg drove slowly, pointing out sites of interest along the way.

"That's the spot where we found four severed toes last year. Over there, the team was on scene for a D.B. that a tourist found in the ice machine of the Tangiers." Xander watched Greg as he gestured emphatically to various macabre sites. "I'm not grossing you out, am I?"

Xander laughed. "Believe me, after growing up where did, there is little that would gross me out."

"Another link to the Mysterious Stranger's past…"

"I'm not *that* mysterious…" Xander offered weakly.

"Your hometown doesn’t exist anymore and you don't have a boyfriend. I think those are both pretty mysterious qualities if you ask me."

"Not really," Xander hedged uncomfortably. A thought had just struck him and he suddenly went cold. "I haven't been out long."

"Really?" Greg said absently, maneuvering between two SUVs.

"Yeah, really." Xander took a deep breath. "Like…an hour or so. I mean, I'm only out to some people," he rushed on quickly before he'd lost he nerve. "A few of my friends and that's pretty much it. They're the ones that told me to go out tonight. Meet people, you know? People like you. I mean, not *people*. Not to imply that there *are* people. People like us, I mean. I just mean that I'm not really comfortable with the whole 'being out' thing but …" Xander held his breath, waiting to see what Greg's reaction would be. He was too far from the hotel now to walk back, but only Andrew, Dawn, and Giles knew where he was. If Greg was disgusted--or more likely, annoyed--by Xander's lack of experience, then he would have to come up with a plan fast. What was he thinking? He should have just said nothing. Then he wouldn’t--

"Did you tell anyone at work?"

"What?"

"At work. Have you told anyone at work that you're gay?"

"Oh. No, I haven't. I mean, my work is…it's kind of complicated. But no, I haven't really told the people I work with."

Greg seemed thoughtful. He slowed at a stoplight and then said, "If you told the people you worked with, do you think it would matter to them?"

Xander considered his words carefully. "I don't think it would effect the way I did my job, so for that reason I don't think they'd care. Actually, the law prohibits them caring when I'm at work if you know what I mean. But personally… I don't think it would be a big deal. Or maybe I’m just too scared to find out. And at the same time," Xander watched Greg accelerate as the light turned green, "I kind of like them not knowing. I mean, they know everything else about me, practically. It's nice to know there's something that's still just mine."

"I understand." Greg smiled. Xander leaned back against the seat, watching Greg's hands as they ran delicately over the steering wheel. Finally the shorter man sighed and spoke. "I'm only asking because I'm not out at work, either. My family knows but I don't really spend much time anywhere except work. Those guys *are* my friends and…" He trailed off.

"I know I’m going to sound like a Lifetime movie, but if they're really your friends, they'll still like you no matter what."

"Now that was really more After-School-Special than Lifetime but I get it." Greg turned in to a parking garage and found a spot for his car. Xander was reluctant to get out. The club, the car…everything was going so well.

"So…this is where you live?" Good one, Harris. Not trite at all.

"Yeah," Greg chuckled as they got out of the car. "It's not great but it comes with a big tub. And a nosy neighbor, so we should probably not hang out here in the parking lot too long."

"Yeah." Xander followed Greg up a short flight of stairs, his fists shoved nervously into his pockets. He wanted nothing more than to be back with Dawn watching "X-2" and chowing on room service. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He wanted a whole hell of a lot more than that. But more than anything he wanted to be smooth. Confident. He *didn't* want to be the Zeppo he knew he was capable of.

"This one's mine." Greg turned the key in the lock of an unassuming white door. It swung open and the two men stepped inside.

"Your place reminds me of my friend Oz's old apartment."

He took in the band posters and battered copies of Vonnegut and Proust that spilled across a coffee table covered with issues of Wired. Nervous and unsure of what to do, Xander skimmed Greg's CD collection while the blue-haired man made coffee. Xander blanched at what he'd come upon.

"Celine Dion?"

Greg came back into the living room, kicking off his shoes. "I'm a well-rounded individual with sensitive and eclectic tastes."

"I guess so."

Greg grinned and then he was grasping two handfuls of Xander's tight t-shirt and pulling him forward. He kissed him hard and Xander felt the erection that had all but left begin to flare to life. "Just wanted to remind you of what's to come." He raised his eyebrow lecherously and then went back into the kitchen.

Xander's head felt deliciously foggy. This wasn't so bad. Not bad at all, actually. He kicked off his own shoes and sat down on the couch, trying to make himself comfortable.

"Coffee will be done in a minute. Feel free to entertain yourself."

Entertain himself? Entertain himself... Xander could hear Greg humming an old Monkees song in the other room and the smell of coffee drifted out. It was taking so long; surely Greg wasn't going to stay in the kitchen the whole time? Don't call me Shirley, Xander thought. Damn "Airplane" references just slipped in when you didn't want them there.

Entertain himself while in a stranger's apartment? A hot stranger, yes, but a stranger just the same. Nerves were making him decidedly un-horny. He'd just have to keep his eye on the prize, so to speak. That's right Harris, he thought. Keep the motor running. Just think about Greg. Everything there was to learn about Greg…who was still in the kitchen…

Xander let his mind wander. He imagined Greg spread out over the kitchen counter. He imagined kneeling down while Greg twisted his hair between those long fingers…yeah, he could entertain himself.

Greg, dripping wet in the shower…Greg's cock dripping over Xander's chin…

Xander began to stroke himself through his pants, gently first, then harder.

Greg, screaming his name as—

"I hope you like it strong!" Greg called from the kitchen.

Xander's eyes snapped open. He heaved a nervous breath and quickly picked up a copy of Seventeen magazine. "Fourteen ways to tell a guy you like him." Xander had just decided that number eleven was the way most likely to cause Greg to commit him to the nearest mental hospital when the blue-haired man returned.

"You've never had coffee until you've had the good stuff." He passed a steaming cup to Xander, who took it gratefully. With his hands occupied, Xander could distract himself from the fact that he was now painfully hard and incredibly nervous—two things that had him shaking almost uncontrollably. He took a sip and then tried putting the cup on the coffee table, but spilled a little in the process.

"Should I have made you decaf?"

"No! I mean, this is good. Really good. You were right. I might just be the tiniest bit…nervous as hell."

"Nervous, huh?" Greg smirked. "Maybe I shouldn't have made coffee. Maybe you need another drink."

"No, java is of the good. I'm just…" He shifted uncomfortably, hoping his pants were baggy enough to cover him appropriately.

"Nervous, I know."

"No! I mean, yeah, nervous, but also…"

"Also?"

Xander groaned in embarrassment. "You said to entertain myself. I was just sitting here..."

"Entertaining yourself."

"Exactly. Thinking about…stuff."

"Stuff like?"

"Stuff like…you." Smooth. Very smooth. Xander inwardly groaned.

"Did you touch yourself?"

Greg's face was blank. Xander wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, but he knew his own face was tomato red. "Yeah," he mumbled as he reclaimed his mug and pressed it to his lips.

Greg sipped thoughtfully at his own drink. "Can I watch?" he said finally.

"Can you…?"

"Watch." Greg leaned forward on the couch, then slid his hand slowly over the bulge in Xander's pants and rubbed gently. "Show me."

Xander swallowed painfully. Greg's coffee-warmed hand on his cock had made him even harder until he was nearly ready to cry from the pressure. He nodded and began to work at his cargo pants. When the first button had been released, Xander could have wept with relief. He slid the zipper down while Greg watched with interest, sipping silently from the steaming cup. It only took a moment to slide his pants and boxers off his hips and onto the carpet.

Free now, his penis stood erect from his body, wet and inviting. Greg raised his eyebrows, indication that Xander should go on. Taking his cock one hand, Xander slid his fist over the shaft. As he increased his speed, Xander's eye slid half-shut. His pleasure narrowed to one white-hot point and he tuned out all around him. Tingling pleasure began to mount and Xander splayed his legs wider, then let his head roll back, taking an unconsciously wanton pose on the deep couch.

Xander was hazily aware of the lights dimming, of movement on the couch, and of Greg standing, then leaving. He sped up his thrust, sliding in and out of his own tight grip in a hurry to finish. Then Xander felt a sudden dipping sensation on either side of him as he was joined on the couch. His eye opened and his mouth fell lax.

Greg was completely nude and kneeling over him. Xander froze, unsure of what to do.

"Is this okay?"

Xander could only nod. Greg was watching him with smoky eyes. In one hand he held a small bottle. Xander watched him apply a liberal amount to his hand and then it was Xander's turn to play voyeur as Greg arched up onto his knees and slid his hand behind him. With his other hand, he took Xander's fingers and pulled them behind him as well.

Xander was unsure of what he was doing until he realized the Greg was trying to teach him by example. With his trembling palm, Xander felt Greg slip one of his own fingers into his body. The look on Greg's face as he entered himself intrigued Xander. He felt Greg add another finger into his own body and Xander began to dimly understand what was happening. It wasn't that he didn't know what was going on, or that he'd never imagined doing this very thing, but to experience it in living color was not something he'd planned on doing when he'd left the hotel—no matter what Dawn said.

A foil wrapped condom sat on the arm of the couch. Xander's free hand scrambled for it and he pulled it open with his teeth. Xander slid the condom on one-handed while he felt Greg adding a third finger. The nude man was fucking his own fingers now, crying out softly each time he sank onto his own slick digits. Xander searched fruitlessly for the discarded bottle of lube then nearly yelped with joy when he finally found it pressed into his hand. Greg said nothing, only let his eyes close and continued to rock onto his own fingers while his other hand balanced himself on Xander's shoulder. When Xander had clumsily smeared the cool gel over his cock, he let his hand rejoin Greg's plunging fingers.

Xander wanted to ask him what to do next, what was normal, what Greg *wanted* him to do. Then Greg's eyes opened and before he could say a word, Greg pulled his fingers from his body and inched forward, sinking himself onto Xander's lap slowly. He stretched backward, trying to get the best angle possible, and watched Xander.

The one-eyed man was stunned to speechlessness. Xander felt himself enveloped by slippery warmth that burned straight through his belly. The tightness of Greg's body was like nothing he'd experienced before. It was tighter and hotter and—Xander cried out as Greg sank himself further onto Xander's cock—way better than watching "X-2" for the fifth time. Greg squeezed his inner muscles gently and then Xander watched him lift himself off, only to spear himself again. Xander's hands instinctively found Greg's hips and he tried to relax, though he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

Over and over, Greg rocked his limber body on Xander's cock; sweat stood out in a shiny coat over both of their bodies. Xander watched Greg's own weeping cock bobbing in front of him but he was helpless to do anything. He could hardly think beyond the end of his own dick.

"Quiet, aren't you?" Greg panted, his words punctuated by soft, husky grunts. Xander grinned, his hands clenching hard at Greg's hips and nodded. Greg pushed down onto him with a particularly savage thrust and Xander could hold back no more. He pushed his head back against the couch and cried out as he came, filling the small apartment with the sound of his voice. Greg looked somewhat victorious and slowed his frantic motions. When he could move again, Xander instinctively wrapped his hands tight around the waist in front of him until his face was buried against Greg's chest. He kissed and licked the soft, salty skin, then settled for breathing deeply and squeezing harder, content with Greg's weight against him.

Reality seeped into his mind in small fragments as his breathing returned to normal. His body was wet with sweat and his shirt was sticking to him. Somewhere on the other side of his damp shirt and sweating skin was a hard cock, still trapped between his body and Greg's.

"Wow." He wasn’t sure who had spoken, only that that was the only word he could use to describe the experience. As Greg slid from his lap, Xander's eyes traveled over his body. He'd been in such a haze when Greg had, well, mounted him, that he hadn't been able to be as appreciative as he should have. Now, Greg was peeling the condom off of Xander's half-hard dick with gentle hands and giving Xander an indulgent grin. Xander appraised the smooth, darkly tanned skin and shining pink cock with interest before Greg slipped into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Xander watched him leave, the tight, round curve of his ass flexing with every step he took. He noticed for the first time that there was a wide scar burned across Greg's back. Xander wondered what it would be like to touch that area—if it would be hard and bumpy smooth like snakeskin.

Xander's heart began to race again at the thought of kissing Greg once more, of running his tongue over the curve of his back and the mounds of his ass. Xander pulled the sweaty tee off and stumbled to his feet to follow Greg.

"The Mystery Man has the stealth of a jungle cat," Greg laughed when Xander slipped behind him as he emerged from the bathroom.

"Ah, yes," Xander laughed, mimicking a wildlife announcer. "The wild Xander is capable of great stealth *and* he has the tongue of a …of a…well, some animal with a great tongue."

With expert enthusiasm, Xander pinned Greg to the wall and kissed him hard. Gripping each of Greg's hands in his, he lifted them above his head until they met on the wall. Xander held them both with one of his own hands and let his other hand trail to Greg's still-hard cock.

"Sorry," Xander apologized as Greg pushed his hips into Xander's hand. "Naiveté of the first-timer. Forgot to share." Greg's eyes were wide open and alternated between staring into Xander's eye and staring over Xander's shoulder in bliss. With his hands restrained, Greg continued to thrust against Xander's palm. Xander watch Greg's lust-filled face and the reddening cock, and then he stopped. Greg continued to thrust and Xander watched him pump into his hand. A hot, sexy, smart man was nearly begging him to let him come, but…. "I just," Xander began, "I want—"

"What?" Greg said impatiently, his body twitching into Xander's hand, close to release.

"I want to try something. Is that okay?" Greg's pupils were dilated, big and black. He closed his lids slowly and nodded his permission. Xander hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake. Then he released Greg's hands and knelt quickly before he'd lost his nerve. Greg smelled incredible, musky and sexy and far better than any expensive cologne. Xander licked timidly, then more adventurously, at the tip of Greg's erection. Above him, Greg was laughing softly, a giddy mixture of pleasure and excitement that turned into a moan at the last minute.

"The wild Xander is—is full of surprises," Greg gasped and pulled hard at Xander's hair, urging him to continue. Xander slid his mouth farther down, drawing on his memory of blowjobs past to remember how he liked it. When Greg finally came, he did so with the softest cry Xander had ever heard in all of his years of pay-per-view experience. Greg slammed his head against the wall as his hips arched forward, spilling fluid into Xander's mouth. Though he knew it was coming, Xander was surprised at the salty fluid that filed his mouth in a sudden rush. He tried hard to swallow it all but found his mouth and chin wet despite his intentions. He licked his lips and wiped his chin as he stood, savoring the odd flavor on his tongue with almost innocent curiosity.

Greg was trembling against the wall, riding out the pleasure of his orgasm. Xander kissed him timidly, unsure of post-blowjob etiquette when it came to guys.

"That was really," Greg started, then kissed Xander back, laughing wildly against his mouth. "That was so…"

"Yeah."

Greg held his neck, kissing Xander gently. When they could step away from the wall without their legs bending, Greg pulled him into the bathroom.

"Shower," he explained, turning the taps, then kissing Xander again while the water warmed. The night's surreal quality only escalated when Xander saw the bottle of Spiderman shampoo in the shower. "Even superheroes need clean hair, Xander." He pulled them both into the shower, mindful of Xander's eyepatch. "You know, you could just lose the patch."

"Nah, I don’t think you're ready for my one-eyed glory."

"Here's something that might surprise you," Greg began, ducking under the spray while Xander stood carefully out of its reach in the rear of the shower. "I've actually seen an empty socket before. Wait; two, to be exact."

"Really?"

"Yep. Shampoo?" He gestured toward the Spiderman bottle and Xander picked it up. Instead of passing it to Greg, though, he squired a sparkling puddle into his own hands and instructed Greg to turn. Xander spread the soap over the wet, blue strands and was almost surprised to watch the blue dye begin to run down Greg's neck and over the scarred pink skin. "Admittedly, one was a D.B., but the other wasn't. I mean, it's not like it's the greatest sight since the Mona Lisa." Xander soaped Greg's hair thoroughly, blobs of pale blue foam flicking onto the white tile. "But it wasn't that big of a deal. To me a least. But if you have a problem with it, then it's cool. I don’t want to *make* you take it off." He gestured to the eyepatch, then dipped under the stream of water and rinsed his hair. Xander was quiet as Greg rubbed water off of his face.

"Okay," he said at last.

"Okay?"

"Okay, I'll take it off." It wasn't the first time he'd taken it off for someone; Buffy and the other Scoobies had seen him without it countless times. But Greg was the first person outside his Sunnydale circle to see him showing socket. As he contemplated whether he could remove it without getting it wet, Greg's hands sped forward and pulled it off in one quick motion, then tossed it outside of the shower to places unknown.

Xander's mouth hung open for a moment. He felt completely vulnerable, utterly exposed. Then Greg kissed him, pulling him under the water and running his hands over Xander's ass.

"Quick like a bandaide, right?"

Xander grinned against the top of Greg's head, hair now brown and blond, made darker with water. They kissed slowly, enjoying the feel of soap slick skin and the odd, sweet vulnerability that comes from being completely naked in front of another person.

Taking charge of the Spiderman bottle, Greg soaped Xander's hair, carefully keeping bubbles from straying into his eye and eye area.

"This is definitely the best shower I've had in a long time," Xander admitted.

"Are you hungry?" Xander's stomach growled his answer. "Good. I don’t have a lot, but I make a killer grilled cheese sandwich." Greg directed Xander under the water and rinsed his hair, then the climbed out of the shower and dried quickly. Both rubbed at each other's hair until they each had a head full of messy spikes. Greg left a firm kiss to the top of Xander's cheek, just below his ruined yes. "Leave it off."

In the kitchen, Xander was pleased to discover a brand new phenomenon: naked cooking.

"Are you sure you're not going to burn yourself?"

"Nah," Greg answered. "I've done this a lot."

"Oh."

"Well, not *this*." He used a spatula to indicate Xander and his naked state. "Believe it or not, I just go clubbing to dance, but grilled cheese sandwiches are something I've made naked before. I can make lots of food naked." He flipped a sandwich onto a plate. Xander didn't doubt his claim.

Greg passed the plate to Xander and they each sat that the kitchen table, silently gobbling up their food.

"I like this," Greg admitted, gesturing toward Xander with his sandwich. "This is…nice."

For once, Greg seemed unsure, almost shy. Xander grinned wide, his stomach full and his hair damp and clean. Without his eyepatch he felt liberated somehow. It wasn't like he planned on going without it from now on, but it was nice to know that there was one person out there who didn't get the wiggins from him.

Xander couldn't help checking Greg out across the table. The best thing about him, he decided, was definitely his mouth. His mouth when he was kissing or grinning or eating….

"What are you looking at?"

"Your mouth, actually."

"Oh, well a mouth has many uses."

"Uh-huh." Xander watched him chew again, unable to tear his eye away.

Greg jammed the last fourth of his sandwich into has mouth with a grin. Then he flung himself into Xander's lap, mumbling through a mouth of grilled cheese, "Hello there."

He chewed quickly and Xander used the opportunity to fondle the naked man on his lap. Everything before had seemed so frantic. Now he was content to lap softly at a dark brown nipple and stroke gently over Greg's inner thigh. When he had finished chewing, Greg lowered his head and left a kiss on Xander's forehead, then his temple.

"You're really amazing," Xander admitted before he realized that he was speaking out loud.

Greg smiled, but remained silent, thinking. Finally he kissed Xander's forehead one more time and said, "Come with me." He slid off of Xander's lap and took him by the hand, leading him through the living room.

Xander was far less shy now than he had been earlier in the evening. He walked slowly, but couldn't help stopping to slide his arms around Greg's waist, couldn’t help kissing the damp hair at his neck or leaving kittenish licks on the bumps of his spine. Greg let his head drop forward and Xander continued to admire his back, kissing his shoulders and kneeling to run his tongue along the dip of his lower back. Greg groaned and covered the hands on his hips with his own, then turned and pulled Xander to his feet, kissing him.

By mutual consent they sank slowly on the couch, devoid of the fervor they'd known earlier, but equally surprised at the pleasure they drew from this strange new intimacy. Both stretched out on the couch side by side and lay staring at one another between bouts of slow, intense kissing and gentle exploration.

Xander rolled Greg over him and relished the friction between their bodies. Greg rocked across him in return, kissing his face as his erection slid against Xander's. Xander could feel himself growing closer to climax and, for once, was almost disappointed at letting their frottage fun end.

”Where did this come from?"

Xander looked down to see Greg fingering a two-inch scar just over his sternum.

"That was a vam—family fight." Okay, not so far from the truth, actually.

"Ouch."

"Yeah. What about you?"

"What *about* me?" Greg licked at the thin scar, then tongued Xander's nipple.

"How did you get the scar on your back?"

"Chemical explosion."

"Yikes."

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

Greg kissed him then, kissed him sweetly and thoroughly. Xander let his fingers run up and down the scarred patch of skin and the other man sighed. The room seemed brighter somehow than it had been earlier and Xander realized that he sun was rising. He turned his attention away from the brightening room and toward the warm skin covering his own. He pulled hard at Greg's ass, rubbing their bodies tightly together. Greg gasped and bit down on the skin he was currently kissing just above Xander's right shoulder. Their lips met again, and then Xander stopped, listening.

"Do you hear that?"

Greg was instantly wary, his eyes cautiously scanning the room. Xander decided Greg was a born Scooby and smiled inwardly at the thought.

"Hey, Xander? I think your pants are ringing."

"What?"

Xander's mind had already worked up a rather provocative vampire fight sequence where Greg staked two vamps at once, his body taught and glistening…

"Your pants? Do you have a cell phone?" Xander rolled out from under Greg with a groan, searching the floor for his cargo pants and yanking open each pocket in turn while he leaned off of the couch. Why did his pants have so many pockets? How much cargo did one person need to haul? He shoved his hand into one and pulled out his phone in relief.

"Xander? Where are you? Are you okay? Are you dead in a ditch? No, then you wouldn't have said 'hello'. Where are you?"

"I'm…busy, Dawnie."

Greg lay on his side, both of their bodies bathed in the orange early-morning light from the window.

"Too busy to put a teenage girl's heart at ease? Too busy to check in with your friends who love you and want to see you alive at the hotel, not dead or dismembered or—where are you again?" Xander decided he couldn't watch Greg and talk to Dawn at the same time. He closed his eye and rolled so that his back was pressed to Greg's front. The he tried to focus on her voice.

"Dawn, I'm fine. Mission accomplished," he whispered, then yelped as a hand slid over his hip and began to stroke at his erection. He could feel Greg's penis pressed up against the crease of his bottom. Greg was nuzzling the back of his neck, content to rub and kiss and stroke all morning. It sounded like a fine plan to Xander, who mumbled incoherent words of thanks before remembering he was still on the phone with Buffy's little sister. "Listen sweetie, I've got to go. Everything's fi-INE!" he cried out as Greg's grip increased.

"And you're sure you're okay?"

"Never better," he admitted and realized it was the truth. Thankful didn’t begin to cover how he felt right then, as he realized that if it hadn't been for Dawn's urging, he and Greg might never have spent the time together they had. "Thanks Dawnie. Full story upon return. I promise." Then he hung up.

"You know," Greg began, sucking at Xander's earlobe from behind, "we still haven't quiet made it into the bedroom"

"No?" Xander rolled over until he was facing Greg.

"Nope."

He grinned but it turned sour when he realized how late it was. "I really should get back to the hotel." It was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, but Buffy and the girls would be suspicious—if they weren't already—when he wasn't there by the time they woke up.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal," Greg began, sitting up and crawling off of the sofa. "Fifteen minutes. If you're not having a good time in fifteen minutes, then you go…walk out that door…don't turn around now…cause you're not welcome anymore…"

"You think that challenge will work on me twice in one night? You are a naive man, Greg Sanders."

"That is blatantly…true," Greg admitted. "But we naive fools are always looking to be educated."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah…" He took Xander by the hand and began to drag him toward the bedroom. "We need hours upon hours of freaky sex, expensive meals, lots of wine, and an endless amount of kissing."

"Wow, I think I *really* qualify for this job."

"Hum, your credentials *do* look good." Greg eyed Xander's ass. "But it may take several days to truly educate this foolish man. Think you'll be around that long?"

Xander bent down, sucking hard at Greg's bare nipple until the other man was gasping. "I think I might just be."

~The End~