Up to Eleven
Nov. 27th, 2023 08:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover (Self-Made Hero)
Summary: Neither of them expected to care, but it happened anyway.
Word Count: 845
Rating: Teen
“You pushed yourself a little too hard,” the voice says, and Xander rolls his eyes, trying his best not to hobble over—he’s had practice, what is this, get with the program already, body—when he realizes he knows that voice and it’s the last person he would’ve ever expected to see in his little workshop, and he turns, raising a completely unimpressed eyebrow.
Angel meets him with one of his own, and yeah, he’s better at that. Like he’s had practice. Honestly, he’s a dork, he probably has.
It’s kind of weird that Angel tracked him down like this, because he’d thought that one day was a fluke, but nah, doesn’t seem like it, which upends plans—like, okay, they were more like calculations, but seriously, the people in his brain are busy whispering furiously to each other and erasing the calculations board and writing new stuff on it with chalk, which, it’s their brain, they could manage magic floating equations, right, that’d look cooler even if nobody other than him is going to see them, and okay, right, breathe, he might be panicking a little.
It’s probably guilt. Angel is, like, the King of Guilt from Guiltvania. It’s his reason for living, right there. And he seems to have finally come to the conclusion that something bad happening to him means Buffy will be very upset and he doesn’t want that, so, professionally stalking her friends to keep them safe is apparently in this season.
He lets out a deep breath and glances over at the pieces strewn across the table, and yeah, that’s right, had he even really eaten? He doesn’t remember now. Honesty? Honesty. “I thought everything was working to spec and then realized when my shoulder started screaming at me that I’d forgotten something basic,” he explains softly, trying not to tense up as the vampire stalks across the room to his fridge—most likely to force him to eat, great, he’s going to have a vampire butler if this keeps up and—
That actually sounds kind of awesome. Not like he’ll ever tell anyone that. Lips are sealed.
“Bombs kind of don’t come with volume knobs, and that’s what Stark’s been making for most of his life, so I kind of...spaced including something to tune the amount of force used, and the baby AI are baby enough right now I can’t rely on them to call me on forgetting something like that,” he explains. Fortunately enough for the purposes of this conversation if not all the people Angelus has killed over the years, the guy is familiar enough with physics to know what that means.
“You dislocated your arm,” he states flatly, returning with a sandwich and soda—hey, he’d forgotten that was in there, and it even looks fairly fresh, wonder when that happened. He sets them carefully on the bench next to Xander and just stands there awkwardly, like he’s ready to reset the arm the minute he’s told the word go.
“Pulled a muscle, maybe. Don’t think it’s dislocated, but you can check,” he states cheerfully, and then eyes Angel’s muscles with calculation in his eyes. Apparently that’s kind of alarming, because the Master Vampire looks like he wants to run, and that’s kind of hilarious.
“What?” he asks warily, and Xander claps him on the back carefully once he’s done, because ow, that still hurts.
“Did anyone tell you that you’d make a wonderful lovely assistant? And, oh, look, you came to check on me because you were worried and found that I shouldn’t be doing grunt work while injured which I absolutely will do if someone doesn’t stop me,” he rambles, and yeah, maybe he needs a little sleep.
Angel grumbles, and he tries to hide the look of intrigue in his eye but Xander spots it anyway. Score. Sooner or later, he’ll reel them all in that way. It’s his master plan, just you watch.
“After you eat. And nap,” Angel insists.
Xander stuffs his face, because while he’s about ready to conk out, he’s got plans swirling in his brain and he’s not sure they’ll let him sleep, really. He winks. “Whatever you say, Jeeves.”
Angel grumbles at that, too, but he stays, and Xander would be worried about the whole ‘watching him sleep’ thing if the guy wasn’t so invested in Buffy and this self-penance path and the fact that he’s exactly the precise combination of wired and exhausted that decides he doesn’t have the energy to worry about anything. Climb the walls, invent impossible things, sleep like the dead, babble like a brook, sure, but energy for worrying? He’s all out.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover (Self-Made Hero)
Summary: Neither of them expected to care, but it happened anyway.
Word Count: 845
Rating: Teen
“I’ll be right with you,” Xander calls out at the sound of the door opening and then tries to work out the way to get up that will hurt the least. It’s unlikely there is one, judging by the ache in his shoulder and the fact that his knee still doesn’t quite feel right, but hey, that’s the beauty of progress, right? Can’t stand in the way of that.
“You pushed yourself a little too hard,” the voice says, and Xander rolls his eyes, trying his best not to hobble over—he’s had practice, what is this, get with the program already, body—when he realizes he knows that voice and it’s the last person he would’ve ever expected to see in his little workshop, and he turns, raising a completely unimpressed eyebrow.
Angel meets him with one of his own, and yeah, he’s better at that. Like he’s had practice. Honestly, he’s a dork, he probably has.
It’s kind of weird that Angel tracked him down like this, because he’d thought that one day was a fluke, but nah, doesn’t seem like it, which upends plans—like, okay, they were more like calculations, but seriously, the people in his brain are busy whispering furiously to each other and erasing the calculations board and writing new stuff on it with chalk, which, it’s their brain, they could manage magic floating equations, right, that’d look cooler even if nobody other than him is going to see them, and okay, right, breathe, he might be panicking a little.
It’s probably guilt. Angel is, like, the King of Guilt from Guiltvania. It’s his reason for living, right there. And he seems to have finally come to the conclusion that something bad happening to him means Buffy will be very upset and he doesn’t want that, so, professionally stalking her friends to keep them safe is apparently in this season.
He lets out a deep breath and glances over at the pieces strewn across the table, and yeah, that’s right, had he even really eaten? He doesn’t remember now. Honesty? Honesty. “I thought everything was working to spec and then realized when my shoulder started screaming at me that I’d forgotten something basic,” he explains softly, trying not to tense up as the vampire stalks across the room to his fridge—most likely to force him to eat, great, he’s going to have a vampire butler if this keeps up and—
That actually sounds kind of awesome. Not like he’ll ever tell anyone that. Lips are sealed.
“Bombs kind of don’t come with volume knobs, and that’s what Stark’s been making for most of his life, so I kind of...spaced including something to tune the amount of force used, and the baby AI are baby enough right now I can’t rely on them to call me on forgetting something like that,” he explains. Fortunately enough for the purposes of this conversation if not all the people Angelus has killed over the years, the guy is familiar enough with physics to know what that means.
“You dislocated your arm,” he states flatly, returning with a sandwich and soda—hey, he’d forgotten that was in there, and it even looks fairly fresh, wonder when that happened. He sets them carefully on the bench next to Xander and just stands there awkwardly, like he’s ready to reset the arm the minute he’s told the word go.
“Pulled a muscle, maybe. Don’t think it’s dislocated, but you can check,” he states cheerfully, and then eyes Angel’s muscles with calculation in his eyes. Apparently that’s kind of alarming, because the Master Vampire looks like he wants to run, and that’s kind of hilarious.
“What?” he asks warily, and Xander claps him on the back carefully once he’s done, because ow, that still hurts.
“Did anyone tell you that you’d make a wonderful lovely assistant? And, oh, look, you came to check on me because you were worried and found that I shouldn’t be doing grunt work while injured which I absolutely will do if someone doesn’t stop me,” he rambles, and yeah, maybe he needs a little sleep.
Angel grumbles, and he tries to hide the look of intrigue in his eye but Xander spots it anyway. Score. Sooner or later, he’ll reel them all in that way. It’s his master plan, just you watch.
“After you eat. And nap,” Angel insists.
Xander stuffs his face, because while he’s about ready to conk out, he’s got plans swirling in his brain and he’s not sure they’ll let him sleep, really. He winks. “Whatever you say, Jeeves.”
Angel grumbles at that, too, but he stays, and Xander would be worried about the whole ‘watching him sleep’ thing if the guy wasn’t so invested in Buffy and this self-penance path and the fact that he’s exactly the precise combination of wired and exhausted that decides he doesn’t have the energy to worry about anything. Climb the walls, invent impossible things, sleep like the dead, babble like a brook, sure, but energy for worrying? He’s all out.