fandomtownies | The Park, Saturday evening

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The Park, Saturday evening

Xander had the start of one of those headaches, the ones that began as a dull pain behin his eyepatch and slowly throbbed their way backwards into his brain until you could play sambas with his skull. Napping it off hadn't worked, so he decided to try taking a walk; sometimes what the weather played a part in causing, it would also help fix, if he wandered out in it.

When he reached the park, he turned up the collar to his jacket to keep the mist from sneaking down the back of his neck, and settled down on one of the benches to watch the duckpond. There was a book on his knee, but he wasn't reading it.
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[OOC: Xander's here for a specific encounter, but the park, being a park and Xander having no explosives or large construction equipment on him, will still be here for your parkly needs after he leaves.]

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He'd been out to try the barrier once more, and once again, hadn't been able to make his way through, though he'd come close. Very close.

It was late enough that he hadn't expected to run in to anyone, and so he hadn't bothered to wear the gloves that Bridge always did, since *he* didn't need them.

However, he'd sensed Xander's presence and simply couldn't give up the opportunity, so here he was, sitting down next to him without a word of greeting.

Xander looks up, having zoned out enough that he'd noticed someone walking, but hadn't noticed it was Bridge. "Hey," he says quietly, rubbing at his temple, which is still throbbing.

"You okay?" he asked, feigning the concern that Bridge would have shown. And keeping his hands carefully tucked in to his jacket pockets.

"Just a headache; I get 'em sometimes." Not that many, though, since he's been back here. "...Are you?" Much as he'd like to follow the ancient Scooby tradition of pretending stuff didn't happen, he'd rather open the worm-can of last night than let Bridge stay hurt, if he was.

"I've had better days."

The answer's an honest one. Sort of.

"Sorry. If, ah, I added to the worseness yesterday."

You know exactly what would make it better. You know because it's what you want too...

"Seeing you was actually kind of the high point of my day." Another sort of truth. Though his reasons were different than what Bridge's would have been.

Xander looks over, concerned. "Why? What else happened?"

"Nothing much," and there's images, flashes really, of Bridge and Xander together from the previous summer that he's projecting. "Talked to Nadia about some weird stuff that's going on."

Xander doesn't really need the help remembering; that's what's usually in his head when he's around Bridge. It's part of what he's been clamping the lid on. The flashes from outside that clamp confuse him, though, make him think he's not doing a very good job of it, and it's not hard for that thought to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. He shakes his head, tries to pass it off as an effect of the headache.

"Weird stuff?"

"Apparently everyone- or nearly everyone- who went to rescue Bel has some sort of weird connection to him now," he says with a shrug. Just give in and let it happen...

"Like Anders?" Isabel had said that. About what Anders was apparently seeing. And Xander had...put it away. Because it wasn't his to be wondering about, let alone feeling like.... like there was something wrong with the fact that it wasn't his.

Except he's wondering now.

"You too?"

"Hmm, yeah. Me too."

"So you've been getting the, uh. Bel and Phoebe show?" He shouldn't sound like it bothers him. Or..he should, but it should bother him because it would bother Bridge, not because it has anything to do with him. Or more importantly, doesn't.

"Yeah," he replies. "Kinda weird."

It really *does* bother you, doesn't it?

It really does. Not that Bridge is getting the equivalent of free cable porn, but that it's in his head, and it's not just pictures, it can't be. And as far as Xander knows, that's someplace only he's been. Or... well, he doesn't even know that for sure, does he.

Lid? Not so clampy.

"I guess it must be. Having somebody in your head like that..."

"*You're* the only one who's been there, before this." And you could be again. I know that's what you want.

Xander's head hasn't stopped hurting. He's just forgotten to pay attention to it, he's so focussed on Bridge's face. It's there in the background, though, like a stereo with the bass turned up too high. Thumping as fast as his heartbeat.

"Things change. I guess." Wow, it's hard to spit that out.

"Some things don't have to." Just kiss him, come on.

"They already did." They did. They have. So why doesn't that stop Xander's face moving closer to Bridge's?

"Doesn't mean they can't change... back." And he's moving closer to Xander, closing the rest of the distance between them.

"They can't. We can't d--"

Except apparently they can. Because they are.

And at this point, all of Xander's thoughts are wide open, and as one hand- one *ungloved* hand- slides up in to his hair, the djinn can see just how much he wants this. How Xander knows it's wrong but just wants to forget. The depth of his feelings for the boy. Everything.

He'll stop this, really he will. In one second, just as soon as his head's clear enough, as soon as he pulls it together.

Yeah, Bridge's mouth on his and the smell of him, this close, the touch on his head that almost makes one ache go away even while it's making the other one worse? Really helping.

The neat thing about possessing someone, is that he has access to all of the host's memories. Including the ones involving kissing, and how doing certain things with one's tongue will make certain other parties react.

That should drive any and all thoughts of... well, thinking from Xander's mind. And for a second it does; he kisses back like it hasn't been almost seven years at all, because his body hasn't forgotten, and his mind is so not in charge.

Then, finally, it's one step over the line into whoa, hi there, mouth not the only thing getting involved here and one step over that line is a hundred steps over the one that Xander's been treading since he got back. Something snaps, and he pushes Bridge back.

"Bridge, stop it. No."

Yeah, like he's going to listen. He attempts to pull Xander back towards him again.

"I said no." Xander pulls further away on the bench, trying to imagine he's just done anything but what he just did.

Far enough away to notice the lack of gloves. "The hell? Bridge, what are you doing?"

And then, through the pounding in his head, it hits him what no gloves actually means.

".....Crap." Xander stands up and walks away, not looking back.

And if Bridge were, well... himself... he might be getting up to go after Xander, to apologise. Or he might be sitting there with a devastated expression on his face.

But he's not Bridge.

So he just laughs.

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The Park, Saturday evening

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