Fray-Adjacent

Xander blinked slowly, wondering if maybe he could convince himself this was all a hallucination and the next time he opened his eye, she'd be gone.

...nope.

"He didn't mention meeting me and Faith in a bar, maybe a year after I graduated?"

Because given the way he'd walked out of said bar, it seemed like the kind of thing his dad would mention. Maybe not right away, but the next time they each had a few in them and he needed new ammunition?

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"That rat. No! And what's the big deal about it, anyway? Aside from your father being a secretive jerk. Big surprise." She frowned and said, "Can you take off the eye-patch? I keep expecting you to end a sentence on 'arrrr.'"

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And Xander was suddenly, just for a moment, as young as he ought to have been when that invitation was received, as it hit him that his dad never. said. anything. She didn't know.

The followup beat that she hadn't seen him in person since before Sunnydale blew, and she really did think the eyepatch was a Halloween costume, was sort of anticlimactic after that. He reached up to slip it off, because... he probably couldn't tell you why, if you asked him, though somebody smarter than him could likely give you a few theories beyond one bombshell at a time.

"Bridge was the big deal about it, for me. I'm guessing for Dad it was more that I'd been dating a guy."

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Bridge, who's been watching the exchange quietly, and, well, somewhat awkwardly, reaches out for Xander's hand with his own.

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Jessica stared. The words, "dating a guy" hadn't really sunk in before Bridge was reaching for Xander's hand. So for a minute, she had a lag there of cognitive dissonance, thinking, But Xander, why would you date a guy? before the obvious reason kicked in.

"Hunh."

She waited for her brain to come up with something more. Nope.

"Um...."

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Xander curled his fingers over Bridge's, embarrassingly grateful for that tiny but essential hit of stability. "So, yeah." He really ought to do this right. "Mom, this is my boyfriend, Bridge. Bridge, this is my mom. Who I've met already."

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"Hi," Jessica repeated blankly, staring at the kid. And jeez, he was young. Younger than Xander, anyway. What was up with that? "Your father's so hearing about this when I get back." She frowned, looking from their hands, up to Xander's face. He kind of looked-- happy?

She cleared her throat and said, "It's very nice to meet you, Bridge." That worked. "Yeah. This is... good. I can be good with this." Especially since she guessed Tony hadn't been. Thinking of that helped her go in the opposite direction. "I mean, hey, I watch Queer Guy all the time. Great show."

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"I think you mean Queer Eye," Xander said, running his other hand through his hair. Was this small talk? Was he having small talk with his mother? Was he having talk with his mother?

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"What eye?" Bridge blinks and frowns. "...This is one of things I've never heard of, right?"

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"Your family doesn't have cable?" Jessica felt a little sorry for the kid, so explained, "It's a makeover show, they do a straight guy's hair, and house, and wardrobe as if he knew all the stuff about being metrosexual like gay kids do. They're always really grateful." She turned to look at Xander, then raised her eyebrows. "You're sure you're gay? Because I'm your mother, and I know you've never dressed like it."

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Xander's instincts warred between facepalming and answering as the gods of comedy demanded. He settled for both. "Yeah, my clothes are straight. They actually like girls. It's kind of a pain; I keep finding them sitting on the couch with a beer whenever America's Next Top Model is on."

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"Are you being smart with me?" Jessica demanded. "Don't do that. I was just asking! I don't know how this works, suddenly I can't ask questions?" She turned back to Bridge. "So. How long have you been dating my son? Who didn't tell me about you, even when you two were in California together?"

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"Oh, uh. well. Ten months, sort of, collectively? I mean, we were dating last summer and then there was this thing where we... sort of broke up for a while," Bridge frowns, thinking of that. It hadn't been his favourite time. "But then we got back together this April."

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"So this is serious?" Jessica turned back to Xander, staring at him. "A year, almost? That's a long time. Especially at your age. And you've visited him at home...."

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"My age? I'm twenty-six," Xander pointed out, because of course that was the key thing he was supposed to be responding to there. You could maybe forgive him given how most of his brain was occupied with hoping she didn't start doing the not so complicated math on how he could've been telling his dad about Bridge over four years ago.

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"And he's... how old?" Jessica prompted him. Then frowned. Because yeah, that math was not possible. "Wait. What? Wait. Are you lying to me? Did you not tell Tony? Because you couldn't have been dating him ten months, but have told Tony about him four years ago. And I remember, you were dating some girl, what, Faith? Around then." And as usual ~~for Sunnydale residents~~, that led to more confusion. "Or was that a joke?"

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Askdfjhsdkfjh. Xander tried not to pull his hair out by the roots when he ran his hand through it. It wasn't like she'd believe him if he said the words 'time travel.'

"He's older than he looks?" he tried.

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"That wouldn't be difficult, 'cause he looks around seventeen," Jessica pointed out. "And, still confused about the four years and the Faith person and... Never mind. I'm just your mother. It's not like you need to explain yourself to me." She gave Xander an exhausted look. Then smiled tightly at Bridge. "Are your parents okay with this?"

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"My parents?" Bridge blinks. "Yeah. I mean, it was sort of awkward at first, but they like him. And they understand how much he means to me."

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"Oh, so everyone else knows first. Right. And Tony was supposed to tell me?" Jessica gave Xander a look of mixed hurt, confusion, and stubborness. "Well. I want to meet your family. Sometime. When it's convenient for them, because, obviously, it's not that important... it's been a long, long day," she finished up, rubbing the at her forehead. "Xander, where's the guest room?"

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"I thought--" Xander'd thought he had, and had vaguely assumed her reaction was probably a more subdued version of his father's, given that she'd never brought it up, the few brief times they'd talked since then.

He sighed, because it didn't really matter what he'd thought, and for a conversation with one of his parents, this was actually an up note to end on. Following it anyplace else could only be a mistake. "The guest room's over here, Mom." He led the way.

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