Despite Willow's closing rhyme, Xander had walked home slowly after radio
, thinking about... well, a little bit of everything. Fandom weirdness
. Upcoming graduations. Sooner-coming anniversaries
. Nanaimo bars.
What? He had to pass Luke's Diner
When he lets himself into the apartment, he's glad to see Bridge's jacket draped over the back of a couch, but most of the lights are out. There's a dim glow from the master bedroom, and he follows it back there, quietly pushing the door open. The lamp on the nightstand is turned down to its lowest setting, just bright enough to make out the shape of Bridge's face in sleep, half pressed into the pillow.
After this morning's
wake-up call, Xander doesn't have the heart to disturb him. Instead, he just stands in the doorway for a long time, watching the shift of the covers, rising and falling to the slow, steady sound of Bridge's breath.
Finally, he turns and walks back to the living room, pulling out his laptop to tap out one last e-mail before returning to crawl under the covers himself.To: email@example.com
Subject: Do not ask. Never, never ask.
I didn't lick the frog. Do you know a spell to....
__[Linkstaaaablishy! B-word-person modded with permission.]