madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2024-11-18 05:09 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2024-11-18 05:09 pm
Real Talk
Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Xander runs into Alisha and tries to distract himself with her problems rather than his own.
Word Count: 1401
Rating: Teen
Warning: Light mention of racism and lgbtq+ topics and Xander's sexual trauma
“What’s wrong, honey?” She catches up quickly, and the snarl as he turns to look when she tugs on his sleeve quickly changes to surprise.
“Alisha! Sorry, I wasn’t—” He actually hugs her, which is also new, not that she’s complaining. Poor kid seems a little touch-starved, never mind that he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Why are you here?”
If she’s not mistaken, he’s perking up a little, which is a sign that he’s looking for a distraction. And it probably doesn’t mean the increase in crime or depression recently has a demonic origin, or he’d already have his distraction.
She just raises her eyebrows, and he deflates. “You’re not wearing your uniform. Sorry. Bad question.”
“It feels a little odd taking a cue from a little kid, but do you maybe need ice cream?” It’s not like he’s too skinny, but he does like food with all the love of a growing teenager combined with a devil-enhanced metabolism.
The silence is worrying, but he eventually nods. “Sure, thanks.” Then a watery smile. “Sorry for being a burden.”
“You never will be,” she responds quickly, and he ducks his head, following, quiet and subdued.
He makes more of a mess than usual, seeming slightly more interested in playing with his food than eating it, but when he’s finally done he takes the handful of napkins Alisha finds and gives him and starts cleaning up, he finally answers the question. “I had a fight with Buffy.”
He stiffens slightly at the hug, but he definitely leans in and doesn’t move away.
“You remember the Murchison case?” He’d only caught a hint of that as he’d come to the station to discuss a different case with her and witnessed Morris hauling the perp in. Xander had stilled, and for a guy that can’t sit still, that’s a pretty important clue. Add that to he was my friend, and she’s got a pretty good idea of what the fight might have been about. And this is a tiny test, though her coldly professional dealings with the man probably said more than any words.
“Hate crimes are unfortunately memorable, yes,” she replies, and he takes a deliberate breath, trying to calm his nerves.
“She’s not that bad, but…maybe it’s worse because she actually means well,” he responds. So he had realized she’d figured it out. “It’s a whole big mess because, well. I’d been wondering if Willow actually has a crush on me, and that all but confirmed it. I mean…I could kinda tell, with my grr-type senses, but I was ignoring it because I didn’t want anything to change, and she’s trying to get over me because I think she figured out a little bit of what we talked about at the station, so I figured it’d work out fine. And Buffy probably just found that out and kind of ships us, except Willow’s practically my sister and I can’t think of her like that, and Buffy isn’t thinking about the ‘the heart wants what the heart wants’ aspect of it and just thinks we’d look cute together. I’m not sure how Willow figured out the rest of it, unless maybe she was talking to my Devil Arms or I was being really not subtle around Kryvi or something, but she told Buffy, who didn’t handle it well. And she’s got her own problems she’s dealing with, so she’s not thinking…I’d say straight, but that’d be a really terrible pun, so maybe I shouldn’t.”
Alisha snorts at that. The cheeky grin, however small, says he’s going to be okay. Probably. “That is a whole big mess.” She thinks back over the possession. “Also, for the record, neither you nor Kryvi are subtle. At all.”
“…What did he do?” It’s not like they ever did a proper agreement about it, but she doesn’t feel that’s the sort of thing she should really be talking about.
“His protective and possessive are pretty much identical,” she explains. That’s vague enough.
Xander winces. “I feel the need to apologize for whatever he may have done. And have a word with him.”
“He’s a demon and you don’t have enough people in your corner. We came to an understanding, anyway.” That doesn’t mean that she’ll just shrug off anything in the future, but then, the spirit knows her, if he’d picked up anything when he was in there.
He frowns at her, assessing, but finally quirks a smile. “You definitely fit right in.”
She laughs, and his smile grows. How much healing should one kid be forced to do? “I actually feel like that, yeah. It took me a while to feel comfortable in my own body. Even at the police station, I don’t always feel like I belong.”
That growl is purely human, but he quickly reins it in. “What? Why?” He still sounds protective.
“Well. My skin color.” There’s no delicate way to put this, is there?
“Why should that matter?” His devil side is showing through again—and how bad is it that while the world of the devils is a meritocracy, all these human isms just don’t seem to exist.
And sure, he’s already in a bad mood, but he’s not going to get it if she doesn’t point it out. “Well, Xander, there’s this little thing called racism.”
Xander’s silent, only breathing in and out, loud and obvious. As expected when she glances over there’s a slight flicker to his human form and the hint of a fang is poking out at the side of his mouth. “What the hell is wrong with people?” he asks finally, probably when he’s determined he’s not going to lose his temper.
She shrugs. “Things that only conscious effort is going to fix eventually.”
His eyes narrow. Like he’s getting ready for some kind of attack. But he just breathes until he looks calm again, and Alisha gets the sinking feeling that he’s just going to ignore his own problems in the face of fixing hers, because it’s like he thinks everyone else matters more than he does. And it’s not like he can fix it, anyway, not by himself. Then he puts it on, a carefree illusion. It looks almost identical to the real thing, but she knows that kind of hurt can’t just disappear so easily. “Wait here,” he instructs, and disappears into the crowd like he was never there, blending in so well he effectively vanishes in plain sight. It’s awkward and she’s worried but she’s not going to move, not while she’s still earning this fragile, precious trust the half-devil gives. She does start a little as someone taps on her shoulder and turns, luckily fighting back the urge to lay into the person as it turns out to be the kid. He holds out a cotton candy, hopeful and generous and just a little bit naïve.
“Xander, where did you get this?” She realizes that might have been the wrong question the second it leaves her lips, so quickly takes it (and a mouthful of the sugary sweet). It’s not as if she’s going to arrest him for theft now of all times. She’s turned a blind eye before, particularly since the whole ‘good luck’ assertion seems to actually work. Though in that case, she’d call it more of a barter system than an actual transaction.
For a moment, he looks troubled, but plasters a smile on anyway. “You deserve things too.” He’s earnest and serious and darting off through the crowd before she can even say anything. Oh, honey. At least this time she’s pretty sure he’ll come back. Eventually. Though maybe it’s more avoiding the conversation and being embarrassed than anything.
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Xander runs into Alisha and tries to distract himself with her problems rather than his own.
Word Count: 1401
Rating: Teen
Warning: Light mention of racism and lgbtq+ topics and Xander's sexual trauma
Alisha’s very glad she’s not here looking after Michael, though dealing with her sister isn’t much better. It’s hard, not being able to talk about the new things in her life, but then, that’s nothing new. She can’t talk about how Morris is finally settling down and starting to feel less threatened after seeing Xander and Buffy and Willow and Rupert at work, or any of the supernatural stuff in her life (Jayla would just sneer about that anyway). She mutters a quick apology into her phone and hangs up (she’ll get yelled at for that later, not that she cares) when she sees the distinctive navy trenchcoat storm past, though, balloon bouncing on his wrist.
“What’s wrong, honey?” She catches up quickly, and the snarl as he turns to look when she tugs on his sleeve quickly changes to surprise.
“Alisha! Sorry, I wasn’t—” He actually hugs her, which is also new, not that she’s complaining. Poor kid seems a little touch-starved, never mind that he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Why are you here?”
If she’s not mistaken, he’s perking up a little, which is a sign that he’s looking for a distraction. And it probably doesn’t mean the increase in crime or depression recently has a demonic origin, or he’d already have his distraction.
She just raises her eyebrows, and he deflates. “You’re not wearing your uniform. Sorry. Bad question.”
“It feels a little odd taking a cue from a little kid, but do you maybe need ice cream?” It’s not like he’s too skinny, but he does like food with all the love of a growing teenager combined with a devil-enhanced metabolism.
The silence is worrying, but he eventually nods. “Sure, thanks.” Then a watery smile. “Sorry for being a burden.”
“You never will be,” she responds quickly, and he ducks his head, following, quiet and subdued.
He makes more of a mess than usual, seeming slightly more interested in playing with his food than eating it, but when he’s finally done he takes the handful of napkins Alisha finds and gives him and starts cleaning up, he finally answers the question. “I had a fight with Buffy.”
He stiffens slightly at the hug, but he definitely leans in and doesn’t move away.
“You remember the Murchison case?” He’d only caught a hint of that as he’d come to the station to discuss a different case with her and witnessed Morris hauling the perp in. Xander had stilled, and for a guy that can’t sit still, that’s a pretty important clue. Add that to he was my friend, and she’s got a pretty good idea of what the fight might have been about. And this is a tiny test, though her coldly professional dealings with the man probably said more than any words.
“Hate crimes are unfortunately memorable, yes,” she replies, and he takes a deliberate breath, trying to calm his nerves.
“She’s not that bad, but…maybe it’s worse because she actually means well,” he responds. So he had realized she’d figured it out. “It’s a whole big mess because, well. I’d been wondering if Willow actually has a crush on me, and that all but confirmed it. I mean…I could kinda tell, with my grr-type senses, but I was ignoring it because I didn’t want anything to change, and she’s trying to get over me because I think she figured out a little bit of what we talked about at the station, so I figured it’d work out fine. And Buffy probably just found that out and kind of ships us, except Willow’s practically my sister and I can’t think of her like that, and Buffy isn’t thinking about the ‘the heart wants what the heart wants’ aspect of it and just thinks we’d look cute together. I’m not sure how Willow figured out the rest of it, unless maybe she was talking to my Devil Arms or I was being really not subtle around Kryvi or something, but she told Buffy, who didn’t handle it well. And she’s got her own problems she’s dealing with, so she’s not thinking…I’d say straight, but that’d be a really terrible pun, so maybe I shouldn’t.”
Alisha snorts at that. The cheeky grin, however small, says he’s going to be okay. Probably. “That is a whole big mess.” She thinks back over the possession. “Also, for the record, neither you nor Kryvi are subtle. At all.”
“…What did he do?” It’s not like they ever did a proper agreement about it, but she doesn’t feel that’s the sort of thing she should really be talking about.
“His protective and possessive are pretty much identical,” she explains. That’s vague enough.
Xander winces. “I feel the need to apologize for whatever he may have done. And have a word with him.”
“He’s a demon and you don’t have enough people in your corner. We came to an understanding, anyway.” That doesn’t mean that she’ll just shrug off anything in the future, but then, the spirit knows her, if he’d picked up anything when he was in there.
He frowns at her, assessing, but finally quirks a smile. “You definitely fit right in.”
She laughs, and his smile grows. How much healing should one kid be forced to do? “I actually feel like that, yeah. It took me a while to feel comfortable in my own body. Even at the police station, I don’t always feel like I belong.”
That growl is purely human, but he quickly reins it in. “What? Why?” He still sounds protective.
“Well. My skin color.” There’s no delicate way to put this, is there?
“Why should that matter?” His devil side is showing through again—and how bad is it that while the world of the devils is a meritocracy, all these human isms just don’t seem to exist.
And sure, he’s already in a bad mood, but he’s not going to get it if she doesn’t point it out. “Well, Xander, there’s this little thing called racism.”
Xander’s silent, only breathing in and out, loud and obvious. As expected when she glances over there’s a slight flicker to his human form and the hint of a fang is poking out at the side of his mouth. “What the hell is wrong with people?” he asks finally, probably when he’s determined he’s not going to lose his temper.
She shrugs. “Things that only conscious effort is going to fix eventually.”
His eyes narrow. Like he’s getting ready for some kind of attack. But he just breathes until he looks calm again, and Alisha gets the sinking feeling that he’s just going to ignore his own problems in the face of fixing hers, because it’s like he thinks everyone else matters more than he does. And it’s not like he can fix it, anyway, not by himself. Then he puts it on, a carefree illusion. It looks almost identical to the real thing, but she knows that kind of hurt can’t just disappear so easily. “Wait here,” he instructs, and disappears into the crowd like he was never there, blending in so well he effectively vanishes in plain sight. It’s awkward and she’s worried but she’s not going to move, not while she’s still earning this fragile, precious trust the half-devil gives. She does start a little as someone taps on her shoulder and turns, luckily fighting back the urge to lay into the person as it turns out to be the kid. He holds out a cotton candy, hopeful and generous and just a little bit naïve.
“Xander, where did you get this?” She realizes that might have been the wrong question the second it leaves her lips, so quickly takes it (and a mouthful of the sugary sweet). It’s not as if she’s going to arrest him for theft now of all times. She’s turned a blind eye before, particularly since the whole ‘good luck’ assertion seems to actually work. Though in that case, she’d call it more of a barter system than an actual transaction.
For a moment, he looks troubled, but plasters a smile on anyway. “You deserve things too.” He’s earnest and serious and darting off through the crowd before she can even say anything. Oh, honey. At least this time she’s pretty sure he’ll come back. Eventually. Though maybe it’s more avoiding the conversation and being embarrassed than anything.