Window Shopping by Danielle Leigh This is my first Buffy-fic. God help us all. Anyway, it's heavily leaning towards Xander/Willow. And I never ask but since this is all new to me I will. Feedback is gratefully accepted at oldviolin7@aol.com. Note for my Anna : This takes place during the third season a few weeks after Xander and Willow's secret relationship has been discovered. "Dammit," Xander hissed, falling onto the hard wooden floor from the window alcove. Ow. Very big Ow actually. He rested his head on the floor, struggling for breath. The smell of bath salts, girly-lotion things and steam permeated the air and he could hear Willow singing off-key, and rather loudly in the bathroom. He snickered, listening. After a moment of being serenaded by her lovely dulcet tones of "Born to be Wild" (Always Willow and her goodness issues. Always.) the smirk faded, replaced by a fond smile. Realizing his ridiculousness, Xander groaned and hit his head on the floor forcefully. You've got it bad, buddy, he thought. Way bad. This was not good. Especially if their numerous indiscretions were a symptom of Willow's goodness issues and a need to make them not so much an issue. Not to mention the fact Willow's singing could have been used to repel the undead. It should not be making him schoompy. This was _so_ not good. After a minute the singing stopped and he could hear the sound of bath water being drained. Okay. Get with the program. If you're very lucky you'll make it through this intact with all my naughty bits. Provided she doesn't see fit just to cut them off. Xander was just about to get off the floor (always a good idea) when the door to the bathroom opened, steam spreading through the room. He got to his knees when he found himself being pummeled on the head. "Get back, foul creature! I've got a- a- religious-esque symbol and I'm not afraid to use it!" "Ow! Will, back off it's me!" Xander cried, flailing his arms, fending off something pointy. "Oh! Xander! Oh. Xander!?" Willow gasped, the horrified guilt giving way to angry righteousness. "What the heck was that?" He looked up to find a gold star of David in her hands. Quickly, he checked his head for any holes. Finding none, he grinned at her sheepishly. He raised his eyebrows at her and stood slowly. "So. Think you could do serious damage with that?" He stopped and gulped when he inspected her more closely. The steam from the path gave her a pink and healthy look. Like she had been exercising or - engaged in an athletic activity of a different nature. Her small, compact body was almost swallowed in the large, fluffy robe and her feet were bare. Naked. The thought first hit him dead center, traveling slowly to all relevant parts of his body eventually embarking on that last long haul to the brain. My Will. Naked. Underneath the robe. Don't go there. She flushed defensively, tucking a chunk of wet hair behind her ear. "I j-just wanted to try it out. Maybe it works like a cross. We don't know. And - wait a minute. How did you get up here?" She backed up, falling over a stool, an enticing bit of thigh flashing under the robe. "Maybe your not Xander! Maybe your Evil!Xander," she said, her head shaking back and forth with vigor. "Will. You peed your pants at my eight birthday party remember? You threw up after the teacup ride in fifth grade? You --" She raised her hand to stop the flow of embarrassing memories from Xander's mouth. "Okay. You're Xander. Although I don't remember you as _mean_ as this." He kneeled in front of her, and smiled, putting his hand out as a peace gesture. She looked at him for a long moment, but he held the hand steady out for her to accept or reject. After a long moment her eyes lowered and she slipped her hand in his. He hauled her slowly to her feet, keeping his hand on hers. She didn't move her hand or react. It was still there. The same ‘it' that had been wreaking bloody havoc in their lives. The same ‘it' that couldn't be just hormones. The same ‘it' that could be love. Or some combination of the two. When she raised her great round eyes to his, he dropped her hand. He didn't want to win her through hormones. Or goodness issues. He wanted her to want him because she wanted _him_. And while, yes, he wanted her to _want_ him, his need was greater than desire. "You still didn't answer the question," Willow breathed, her voice doing that squeaky Minnie Mouse thing. "How did you get in here? And," she went white, "You didn't...hear anything, did you? Because I think there's a ghost. Yes!," she almost shouted. "A great big oldies singing ghost. I think it missed Woodstock and so will continue to haunt this house until--" Her voice faded off into nothingness and she landed on her bed, covering her face. He sat on the stool, at her feet. "I give you a 9 for originality and a 3 for form." "You should probably deduct points for lameness," she said, muffled behind her hands. "Actually, I, uh, I climbed in the window. It's not as easy as Buffy makes it look." Slowly, Willow's hands lowered. Her eyes were wide. "You climbed into my room through the window." She thinks hard. "No one's ever done that before." Xander coughed. "So you're finding this Romeo-charming as opposed to Frightening stalker guy?" She frowned, confused. "Oh. So this is you charming?" "Well. Most guys bring flowers. I was thinking more along the lines...of surprising. But good surprising! Like a mint on your pillow!" They both turned to look at her pillow, catch each other and then quickly look away. "I think we should leave all sleeping-ware or associated sleeping-ware out of this discussion," Willow said firmly. Xander felt a firm pounding beat in his head. His heart. Or something in his head about to burst from his skull and crawl forth into the world. He was really spending too much time in this town. "So...there _will_ be a discussion?" He winced at the pathetic hopefulness in his voice. Give the guy a crumbly morsel and he'll follow you around for life, he thought. "I don't know." Not so firm. He took a deep breath. And another. He was going to need it. "Five minutes." It wouldn't be suave. It wouldn't be Casablanca-ish. But it would be true. "Okay," she said quietly. "But we both know that you could take five minutes or five days or five _decades_ and I'd let you have it. You'd only have to ask." She looked sad and resigned. "N-never mind," he said. He stood up and walked over to her dresser, keeping his back to her. He didn't want resignation. That was a consolation prize, like a stupid barbecue grill instead of the trip to France. He wanted to dance in gay Pari, not host the neighborhood block party. He didn't just want her love. He wanted to know that she _choose_ it. Xander stared at himself in her mirror and smiled bitterly. Not asking a lot are we, sport? You are lucky enough that she can't help loving you, do you really think anybody would _want_ to? Her words echoed in his head and he tried to think. It shouldn't be this hard, should it? "Ask," he muttered. He turned around. "Ask," he stated. "Not take?" Willow smiled then. A full heart and soul smile. "You're Xander. You'd never hurt me without permission." He looked at her, feeling a numbness spread across his chest. Oh Will. Is that what you think of me? "No! I didn't mean it like that." She sat up straighter on the bed. "Xander sit down." He sat down next to her on the bed with a hollow thumb. "I meant if I told you to leave right now you would. If I told you to stay right now you would do that also. If I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you --" Her voice rose suddenly. "I'd marry you here and now," Xander replied. She nods, relieved he understood. Marriage is, of course, abstract to them. What it implies is his total devotion. "If you continue tonight it'll hurt me, more than it will hurt you." She didn't say it. She didn't need to. Oz. "But I _have_ to give you permission to act. I'm all that's standing between us and teenage destruction," she said morosely. She swung her legs back and forth, they didn't even reach the floor from her bed. "Tell me to take a hike then. Hasta la Vista. Long walk off that short pier. Do I need more examples?" She studied the quilt on her bed, her hand picking bits of fuzz off the fabric. "Now that we've covered the how you got here, I want to know about that why. I'm big on the whys of life. It's just the witch in me." Okay. Forestallment of the shame and humiliation that would accompany being kicked out of his best friend's bedroom after making the least smooth pass in history. Thank you, Will. Or should he thank God? What if they were one and the same? He grinned goofily and stopped when he caught her staring at him. "Is that permission?" Her entire body clenched noticeably. She exhaled. "No. Not yet. Permission is like - the end of the line. I'm not ready to jump the train yet. It's like...the end of finals were you go nuts, or after you get your license and the first time you speed past a cop," he gave her a look, "or, um, a security guard. O-or like --" "Losing your virginity," Xander filled in helpfully. "No going back." "No! In fact it's nothing like that. Not that I would - Or. Yes. Maybe I do know. In fact you don't know if I know. I _could_ know." She stopped sputtering and glared at him. "Do _you_ know?" He tried to give a dignified, but manly shrug. Or at least with a man-like quality. "Well, you see it's complicated--" "So that would be a no." Willow tried to hide her glee and failed. He glared at her. She tried to look penitent and failed at that as well. His expression must have been too much for her because then she giggled. Which turned into a slightly strong chuckle, that merged into a river of laughs until she could hardly speak. "Tension makes me giddy," she gasped. "I do like my Willow giddy," he said thoughtfully, letting his arm wrap around her waist. He pressed her against him and he leaned forward. She stopped laughing, instead staring at him. "Your call," he said softly, into her ear. "I can't," her voice was panicked. "Don't let me decide. I don't want to be responsible--" He would do anything for her. Even that. So he kissed her. She dignified him by kissing back. It was tender and passionate and everything he'd ever really wanted. And nothing he'd ever expected. He broke it, resting his forehead against hers. "Oh," Willow whispered, just a little hoarse, catch of breath that made a balloon of warmth and air grow in his chest. She touched his face with her hand and leaned against him. "Oh." He told her solemnly, his lips moving against her temple. "Willow. I can't go back on something I _know_ to be true. Even if you asked me to." She disengaged himself from his grip and he shuddered. So this it what it's like to _want_. Not the physical, but the ethereal. "Xander. Have you asked yourself is this because you love me or because you're selfish?" He smiled crookedly. "It's because I love you _and_ I'm selfish enough to believe you'll be happy loving me." A faint smile crossed her lips, but didn't touch her eyes. They were blank, listlessly eying the clock. He looked at it too. 12:01. "Second day of the new year," she said. "School tomorrow." It was a dismissal. Plain and simple. He tried to ignore the leaden feeling in his arms and legs, the woodenness in his stomach and the pain in his eyes and throat. A minute ago he could fly. Now he was sinking fast. He stood up, not looking at her. "I'm going to go. Um. Watch me going," he said, preparing himself to leave from the window he had arrived from. He glanced down. "Two stories is higher than I remembered on the way up. Those bushes look soft, don't they?" "Don't be silly. Don't we need to tie bed sheets together?" He glanced back her surprised by the lack of expression on her face. Then she almost gave him heart convulsions by smiling a little. "Go out the front door, silly." Right. Slayer-material he was not. He didn't even have the basic chemical components for slayer-material. "Oh," he said, a nervous laugh escaping. "Um. So. School. Tomorrow." She nodded. "Yes. Now. I'm watching you go." Yeah. She was. The End.