These characters belong to the gorgeous lads and lasses at Mutant Enemy.
Pillow Talk
Xander sat cross-legged on Willow's bed, fidgeting.
"What's the problem?" Willow asked. "You're taking Anya, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes," he said, nodding. "That's not even in question. The problem is that it's a wedding. A family wedding. I hate family weddings."
Willow sat next to him. "Your parents will be there."
"Yup," he said gloomily. She put her arms around him, hugging him close. He leaned his head on her shoulder, relaxing into the embrace. Then he shifted uncomfortably. "How did you know?"
"Know what?" Willow pulled back, inspecting his face.
"That Tara was the right one for you. I just – I just don't get it, y'know? You're happy. Tara's happy. I'm happy. Everyone knows Anya's happy," they shared a grin, "but what about my parents? What about Buffy and Riley? They must've been happy some time. Why didn't it work for them?"
Willow shrugged, helpless. "I don't know. I guess, sometimes, we just have to do the best we can." She grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Of course, it's harder for everyone else. I pity you poor mortals - there's only one Willow in the world."
"But you are happy with Tara, right? She's good to you?"
Willow frowned at the seriousness in his tone. "Xander, what's up? Why are you so worried about us?"
He looked away, trying to smile. "Just something that crossed my mind. It's stupid."
"And so am I, when it comes to fashion. Come on, you can tell me."
Xander stood, rubbing his forehead. He turned to the window, turned back to Willow with his mouth open, then turned to the window again. He said in a small voice, "Did I make you gay?"
Willow spluttered. "What?" Then, as her brain processed the information, "Did you make me *gay*?!"
"Yeah."
She tried to control the chuckle. "Because of your overwhelming manliness?"
He raised a hand in protest. "Not quite like that-"
But it was no good. She was off, giggling as she spoke. "No guy could ever be good enough for me, after I'd had a taste of Big Xand, is that it? Do you think you're the best-looking man in the rest of the free world? Sure, you've got a great butt, but there are others nearly as good. It must be your masculinity; well-known for making women faint at a hundred paces. No, wait, that was the cologne you used to wear in the ninth grade."
Xander held up his hands pleadingly, and eventually, she stopped. He said mildly, "That isn't quite what I meant, Will."
She patted the bed next to her. He sat down. She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. "Then, what did you mean?"
"Oh, I don't know." He closed his eyes, then it all came out in a great rush. "That I'm a screw-up. That I screwed you up, too. Hell, it's in my genes – my parents are incapable of a decent relationship."
Willow took hold of his nose and turned him to face her. "Now you listen to me, Alexander Harris," she said intently, staring into his eyes. "You and me didn't work out. That's a pity, but it's in the past. It was my fault as much as yours. Oz and me didn't work out. Same thing. Then I fell in love with Tara. Not because she's a woman, and safer than a man." She shook her head wonderingly. "If you had any idea about wonderfully terrifying our relationship is. . . anyway, I fell in love with her because she's Tara. Full stop."
"Okay," Xander said softly. "I'm glad, Will."
"Me, too. Now, don't make up any more things to be paranoid about."
"Yes, Mom," he smiled.
"There's enough in our day-to-day lives to be paranoid about, without making stuff up."
He groaned. "Yes, Mom."
"Now, give me a hug and let me get to class."
