Best Friends
Jul. 14th, 2017 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerTHIS STORY MAKES ME SO HAPPY AND SAD AT THE SAME TIME
BECAUSE CORDY'S HERE AND CORDY'S AWESOME AND I LOVE HER
AND YET SHE DIES IN THIS UNIVERSE
Fun fact: I was just going to allude to this, and then Cordy just randomly calls up Xander and is like "this is getting shown on-screen. I didn't have a cool enough part on either show. The least you can do is let me have my time on the stage here", and I was like...well, fair point. (sometimes my characters do things i don't expect and I just go with it.)
Also, it's kinda interesting that it got written in first person, because I think that's legit the first time for this 'verse.
That's a huge failure on the part of Angel. I would've loved just a dropped line about how she calls Xander or vice versa, because it would be a big moment of growth for both of them. Because yes, it's a failed relationship, and I think both of them would acknowledge that, and Xander would probably be too embarrassed to talk to her for a while, but eventually he'd get over himself because they both still love each other, just not in the same way. Not in a romantic way. If he felt he could gossip or vent with anyone, Xander would probably go with Cordy, because she's not there, and she's actually proven her mature self to not tell too many secrets. Buffy was such a teenage show because when relationships ended they weren't brought up again unless it could serve as more angst/drama. But if anyone, I think Xander would be the type to still be friends with and die for his exes (assuming they weren't killed/dusted for attempting to nom him on the first date).
~Dreamer~
P.S. Apparently I've been forgetting ratings for a while through incomplete copy/paste...luckily I lurk at The Sunnydale Herald and noticed they were labeling the fics 'not rated', so thanks there! also is that a P4 Death card? Just when I thought I couldn't love you any more /grins
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover
Summary: Cordy spends most of her phone's minutes calling her ex. It's one of her better life choices.
Word Count: 1843
Rating: Teen
Xander pauses what he’s doing. Fortunately, I can now at least see him, because he sent me a videophone. When anyone asks, I tell them that it’s a really buggy prototype I’m testing for a friend in the industry, which is mostly true except for the buggy part. He’s absolutely ruining that shirt, I can tell, because that much oil is murder on designer t-shirts, but it’s not like he can’t buy a new one.
“Hello to you too, Cordy,” he says, grinning. And then he glances down at his hands and whatever tool is in them. “Lemme put this down; it’s heavy and I don’t wanna drop it. I’m still using my feet.” He goes and puts it on the table, which doesn’t even creak, but of course he’d get really, really strong glass or whatever. “Okay, something about icky demons.”
It’s a pity he’s not in arm’s reach so I can’t flick his ear for not listening. “You owe me new shoes. To pay for the emotional trauma I incurred.”
He doesn’t tease about words above my IQ, but it’s something he’s sensitive about, too. He’s hardly the one to talk about wanting to be more than just a pretty face.
Instead, he makes a face. “Is this about—”
I shake my finger at him. “Nuh-uh. I don’t want to hear it.” I hope he gets that it’s a joke, that I’m largely over him even though I’ll always have a little bit of a crush that no one can understand, least of all me, but asking about it would ruin the joke, so I just hope he’s as smart as he thinks. “Shoes.”
He glances at the computer. “Did you hear that? Deposit some more money into her account, Star.”
“Yes, sir.” The AI does as he says. I half wonder if she doesn’t approve of me, which is really odd for a computer, especially as I like her. Between the two of us maybe we can keep him out of half the trouble he’s liable to get into.
“I will note that a designer pair of boots can look amazing on anyone and are largely less destructible, particularly with the help of a spell.”
I roll my eyes. “I get that Stark is a fashionista,” he mock curtseys to the screen, “…but I only allow people to choose clothes when they go shopping with me. Which reminds me, you still need to visit LA.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “All good points. I concede victory to your obviously capable hands.” He lowers his hands, because keeping him on one subject unless it’s babbling helplessly about some weird science none of us understand and is probably years ahead of his time is sometimes a little difficult. “Now, I hope you called about more than just dignity custody agreements.” He rubs his oily hands together, grinning. I don’t bother to point out that he looks good with oil, even though he looks good with a blush too, because I can enjoy the eye candy in private with no drama. “Specifically, I don’t get to gossip like the rest of the girls, and I’m feeling a little left out.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I grin. If I’d had better self-esteem, I’d probably have fought for him instead of just accepting him dating his best friend at the inevitable. Though Willow has issues of her own, too, because seriously, being best friends with this guy is well, well worth it. “How’s Angel working out as your sidekick?”
With that grin, you’d think he never takes anything seriously. You’d only be partially right. Half the time even when he’s taking something seriously he’ll joke about it anyway. The dumb thing is that I think I probably can tell when he’s taking something seriously better than Buffy or Willow or maybe even Giles, but on the other hand I’ve spent more time actually paying attention to him and figuring out when he’s lying and when what you’re seeing is the truth.
“I think he missed the memo that only very certain superheroes are allowed to be broody,” I respond with a matching smile. “I’m training that out of him.”
We both enjoy this so much. Largely because our friendship is straightforward, unlike our relationship had been or pretty much anything else in our lives.
“How’s the Power Problem of Doom going?” I ask, because seriously, the thought of him as a real life Iron Man is very cool.
He stumbles back, clutching at his heart like I’ve stabbed him. “Seriously? Why would you ask that? You just love to see me suffer, don’t you? Miss C hasn’t changed, news at eleven.”
“Ten. In the morning,” I respond, raising an eyebrow and not falling for the act. “I’m guessing not well, then.”
He sighs, and he’s actually turning serious. A sign of how discouraged he is. “That’s an understatement. Never mind miniaturization, I don’t think I can build an Arc Reactor of normal size, never mind the fact that that would be utterly unusable for a suit. Getting my hands on materials isn’t the problem it once was. What I’m comfortable with releasing is netting me a decent enough income, never mind all my amazing choices of investment portfolio. A few of the stocks don’t do as well as the memories in my head, but overall the losses are a drop in the pond.”
I nod, feeling privileged. I don’t think he has these kinds of conversations with anyone else. Though he has given out a few hot stock tips to the friends he trusts not to be dumb about it, which I value both for the money and for the trust. “I haven’t gone overboard, so I shouldn’t get the wrong sorts of attention.”
“Good.” He nods fiercely. Buffy and the others might have forgotten about Marcie, but I haven’t, and I’m not sure I trust our government not to be doing something stupid. If they have one invisible girl at their disposal (and they knew how to deal with her, so if we’re being realistic more than one invisible person), I’m not sure I want to know what they have her doing. I mean, in the end it’ll probably end up hurting me, so it’s better if I know, but I might prefer ignorance of evil things for once in my life.
“The issue is the knowledge. I’ve been reading the journals religiously, which is a trial because it gives me a headache because what they say is either contradictory to everything I know or so basic. Nobody’s even close to a solution, which is pretty much what the forums say. Pretty much, they all think RangerOne is a bit crazy, but they love the challenge, because I’ve said enough to get them thinking and get the scientist/engineers in them to sit up and take notice, so they’re doing their best. One of them said something that got me thinking—they suggested that clearly the only solution is ‘magic’ as, you know, maybe a kind of insult, like I’m asking the impossible, but it’s actually a potential solution.”
I clap my hands for him. That’s exciting. I’ve told him that if he ever needs to head somewhere where his skills are always appreciated, he’s always welcome here, but he feels the need to stay and do what he can. I can’t fault that, but I wish he cared about himself more. Still, if he finally makes the armor, maybe his friends will actually see him for the hero he is. “If you need me to do research, ask. I’m basically Research Gal now, you know, when I’m not actually fighting. Manning the front desk is actually a little boring.”
He waves a dismissive hand at me. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re much prettier than Giles.” He smirks but shrugs, eyes more vulnerable than the rest of his front. “If you can spare the time, that’d be great, but I don’t expect anything.” He pauses, then adds, “…whatever it’d be, it’d still be something really rare. If there was some energy fix-all and it was common as dirt, ignore science, we’d be using that because some Prometheus couldn’t let the rest of humanity suffer without fire.”
I nod, but I’m not about to give up on him. Still, he’s looking for the topic to be changed, which I can do. “So my new coworker is hot and actually is probably into me.” I touch the touchscreen, which is anything but necessary on average with the hologram calling technology during a call, and navigate to the picture in question. It’s just two taps to send it to him.
He tugs his shop glasses up into his hair, which means he’s getting oil there, too, but whatever. I’m not the one who’s going to have to scrub that hair in the shower later. And then he whistles. “He’s, uh…don’t tell me, I’ll get it…Brachen Demon? Good lookin’, too.”
I blink, speechless for a minute. “That party trick of yours is ridiculous. Seriously, it’s a photograph of the human version. And, I mean, he’s half human, but really. How do you do it?”
He grins, pleased, and holds a finger theatrically to his lips. “Magician’s secrets, Cor. I can’t tell. I’ve been practicing for the company.” He glances at the picture again. “I’d call that a solid…7. Peaceful species adds some points, half human subtracts a few again, because if there’s a violent species out there, humans are pretty bad on the list.”
I roll my eyes. “8 or 9. You clearly have been squinting at lines of code too late at night and need to get those eyes checked.” I might be one of the few people that actually know he’s pansexual (though honestly, given how flirty he is and the fact that he’s got at least two female personalities in his brain, they really should’ve figured it out now). It’s kind of twisted fun rating guys on dateability with him, but he enjoys it as much as I do, so I don’t feel all that guilty.
“Scientifically—” he begins, and I roll my eyes.
“Not that ‘people have different scales of attraction’ genetics thing again. I’ve heard the same speech several times already.”
He’s entirely unrepentant. “Then you should know it already. Several times is enough to print it onto your brain, right?” He shrugs. “I’m not the one who’s in the same area for long to short-distance date him, so come on. W-Wait.” He looks stunned. “Is this why you absolutely need new shoes? Because I think I can manage a whole outfit if your plumage needs fluffing.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t cut him off because I’m having fun and I feel all the stress of the week just disappearing.
BECAUSE CORDY'S HERE AND CORDY'S AWESOME AND I LOVE HER
AND YET SHE DIES IN THIS UNIVERSE
Fun fact: I was just going to allude to this, and then Cordy just randomly calls up Xander and is like "this is getting shown on-screen. I didn't have a cool enough part on either show. The least you can do is let me have my time on the stage here", and I was like...well, fair point. (sometimes my characters do things i don't expect and I just go with it.)
Also, it's kinda interesting that it got written in first person, because I think that's legit the first time for this 'verse.
That's a huge failure on the part of Angel. I would've loved just a dropped line about how she calls Xander or vice versa, because it would be a big moment of growth for both of them. Because yes, it's a failed relationship, and I think both of them would acknowledge that, and Xander would probably be too embarrassed to talk to her for a while, but eventually he'd get over himself because they both still love each other, just not in the same way. Not in a romantic way. If he felt he could gossip or vent with anyone, Xander would probably go with Cordy, because she's not there, and she's actually proven her mature self to not tell too many secrets. Buffy was such a teenage show because when relationships ended they weren't brought up again unless it could serve as more angst/drama. But if anyone, I think Xander would be the type to still be friends with and die for his exes (assuming they weren't killed/dusted for attempting to nom him on the first date).
~Dreamer~
P.S. Apparently I've been forgetting ratings for a while through incomplete copy/paste...luckily I lurk at The Sunnydale Herald and noticed they were labeling the fics 'not rated', so thanks there! also is that a P4 Death card? Just when I thought I couldn't love you any more /grins
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover
Summary: Cordy spends most of her phone's minutes calling her ex. It's one of her better life choices.
Word Count: 1843
Rating: Teen
“You owe me a new pair of shoes. My last ones broke fighting…I forget what they were called, but they were icky demons, because that black stuff got everywhere and it stuck. The heels broke.”
Xander pauses what he’s doing. Fortunately, I can now at least see him, because he sent me a videophone. When anyone asks, I tell them that it’s a really buggy prototype I’m testing for a friend in the industry, which is mostly true except for the buggy part. He’s absolutely ruining that shirt, I can tell, because that much oil is murder on designer t-shirts, but it’s not like he can’t buy a new one.
“Hello to you too, Cordy,” he says, grinning. And then he glances down at his hands and whatever tool is in them. “Lemme put this down; it’s heavy and I don’t wanna drop it. I’m still using my feet.” He goes and puts it on the table, which doesn’t even creak, but of course he’d get really, really strong glass or whatever. “Okay, something about icky demons.”
It’s a pity he’s not in arm’s reach so I can’t flick his ear for not listening. “You owe me new shoes. To pay for the emotional trauma I incurred.”
He doesn’t tease about words above my IQ, but it’s something he’s sensitive about, too. He’s hardly the one to talk about wanting to be more than just a pretty face.
Instead, he makes a face. “Is this about—”
I shake my finger at him. “Nuh-uh. I don’t want to hear it.” I hope he gets that it’s a joke, that I’m largely over him even though I’ll always have a little bit of a crush that no one can understand, least of all me, but asking about it would ruin the joke, so I just hope he’s as smart as he thinks. “Shoes.”
He glances at the computer. “Did you hear that? Deposit some more money into her account, Star.”
“Yes, sir.” The AI does as he says. I half wonder if she doesn’t approve of me, which is really odd for a computer, especially as I like her. Between the two of us maybe we can keep him out of half the trouble he’s liable to get into.
“I will note that a designer pair of boots can look amazing on anyone and are largely less destructible, particularly with the help of a spell.”
I roll my eyes. “I get that Stark is a fashionista,” he mock curtseys to the screen, “…but I only allow people to choose clothes when they go shopping with me. Which reminds me, you still need to visit LA.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “All good points. I concede victory to your obviously capable hands.” He lowers his hands, because keeping him on one subject unless it’s babbling helplessly about some weird science none of us understand and is probably years ahead of his time is sometimes a little difficult. “Now, I hope you called about more than just dignity custody agreements.” He rubs his oily hands together, grinning. I don’t bother to point out that he looks good with oil, even though he looks good with a blush too, because I can enjoy the eye candy in private with no drama. “Specifically, I don’t get to gossip like the rest of the girls, and I’m feeling a little left out.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I grin. If I’d had better self-esteem, I’d probably have fought for him instead of just accepting him dating his best friend at the inevitable. Though Willow has issues of her own, too, because seriously, being best friends with this guy is well, well worth it. “How’s Angel working out as your sidekick?”
With that grin, you’d think he never takes anything seriously. You’d only be partially right. Half the time even when he’s taking something seriously he’ll joke about it anyway. The dumb thing is that I think I probably can tell when he’s taking something seriously better than Buffy or Willow or maybe even Giles, but on the other hand I’ve spent more time actually paying attention to him and figuring out when he’s lying and when what you’re seeing is the truth.
“I think he missed the memo that only very certain superheroes are allowed to be broody,” I respond with a matching smile. “I’m training that out of him.”
We both enjoy this so much. Largely because our friendship is straightforward, unlike our relationship had been or pretty much anything else in our lives.
“How’s the Power Problem of Doom going?” I ask, because seriously, the thought of him as a real life Iron Man is very cool.
He stumbles back, clutching at his heart like I’ve stabbed him. “Seriously? Why would you ask that? You just love to see me suffer, don’t you? Miss C hasn’t changed, news at eleven.”
“Ten. In the morning,” I respond, raising an eyebrow and not falling for the act. “I’m guessing not well, then.”
He sighs, and he’s actually turning serious. A sign of how discouraged he is. “That’s an understatement. Never mind miniaturization, I don’t think I can build an Arc Reactor of normal size, never mind the fact that that would be utterly unusable for a suit. Getting my hands on materials isn’t the problem it once was. What I’m comfortable with releasing is netting me a decent enough income, never mind all my amazing choices of investment portfolio. A few of the stocks don’t do as well as the memories in my head, but overall the losses are a drop in the pond.”
I nod, feeling privileged. I don’t think he has these kinds of conversations with anyone else. Though he has given out a few hot stock tips to the friends he trusts not to be dumb about it, which I value both for the money and for the trust. “I haven’t gone overboard, so I shouldn’t get the wrong sorts of attention.”
“Good.” He nods fiercely. Buffy and the others might have forgotten about Marcie, but I haven’t, and I’m not sure I trust our government not to be doing something stupid. If they have one invisible girl at their disposal (and they knew how to deal with her, so if we’re being realistic more than one invisible person), I’m not sure I want to know what they have her doing. I mean, in the end it’ll probably end up hurting me, so it’s better if I know, but I might prefer ignorance of evil things for once in my life.
“The issue is the knowledge. I’ve been reading the journals religiously, which is a trial because it gives me a headache because what they say is either contradictory to everything I know or so basic. Nobody’s even close to a solution, which is pretty much what the forums say. Pretty much, they all think RangerOne is a bit crazy, but they love the challenge, because I’ve said enough to get them thinking and get the scientist/engineers in them to sit up and take notice, so they’re doing their best. One of them said something that got me thinking—they suggested that clearly the only solution is ‘magic’ as, you know, maybe a kind of insult, like I’m asking the impossible, but it’s actually a potential solution.”
I clap my hands for him. That’s exciting. I’ve told him that if he ever needs to head somewhere where his skills are always appreciated, he’s always welcome here, but he feels the need to stay and do what he can. I can’t fault that, but I wish he cared about himself more. Still, if he finally makes the armor, maybe his friends will actually see him for the hero he is. “If you need me to do research, ask. I’m basically Research Gal now, you know, when I’m not actually fighting. Manning the front desk is actually a little boring.”
He waves a dismissive hand at me. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re much prettier than Giles.” He smirks but shrugs, eyes more vulnerable than the rest of his front. “If you can spare the time, that’d be great, but I don’t expect anything.” He pauses, then adds, “…whatever it’d be, it’d still be something really rare. If there was some energy fix-all and it was common as dirt, ignore science, we’d be using that because some Prometheus couldn’t let the rest of humanity suffer without fire.”
I nod, but I’m not about to give up on him. Still, he’s looking for the topic to be changed, which I can do. “So my new coworker is hot and actually is probably into me.” I touch the touchscreen, which is anything but necessary on average with the hologram calling technology during a call, and navigate to the picture in question. It’s just two taps to send it to him.
He tugs his shop glasses up into his hair, which means he’s getting oil there, too, but whatever. I’m not the one who’s going to have to scrub that hair in the shower later. And then he whistles. “He’s, uh…don’t tell me, I’ll get it…Brachen Demon? Good lookin’, too.”
I blink, speechless for a minute. “That party trick of yours is ridiculous. Seriously, it’s a photograph of the human version. And, I mean, he’s half human, but really. How do you do it?”
He grins, pleased, and holds a finger theatrically to his lips. “Magician’s secrets, Cor. I can’t tell. I’ve been practicing for the company.” He glances at the picture again. “I’d call that a solid…7. Peaceful species adds some points, half human subtracts a few again, because if there’s a violent species out there, humans are pretty bad on the list.”
I roll my eyes. “8 or 9. You clearly have been squinting at lines of code too late at night and need to get those eyes checked.” I might be one of the few people that actually know he’s pansexual (though honestly, given how flirty he is and the fact that he’s got at least two female personalities in his brain, they really should’ve figured it out now). It’s kind of twisted fun rating guys on dateability with him, but he enjoys it as much as I do, so I don’t feel all that guilty.
“Scientifically—” he begins, and I roll my eyes.
“Not that ‘people have different scales of attraction’ genetics thing again. I’ve heard the same speech several times already.”
He’s entirely unrepentant. “Then you should know it already. Several times is enough to print it onto your brain, right?” He shrugs. “I’m not the one who’s in the same area for long to short-distance date him, so come on. W-Wait.” He looks stunned. “Is this why you absolutely need new shoes? Because I think I can manage a whole outfit if your plumage needs fluffing.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t cut him off because I’m having fun and I feel all the stress of the week just disappearing.
