Notes: Wow, it's been a long time since Graduation. I was severely blocked on this story and Julad helped me get past that by writing a fabulous sex scene and generally making things better.
Eclipse
by Livia and Julad
01/13/01The high windows above the bleachers were bright squares of afternoon sun, and the heat on his back was making Xander Harris sweat under his jacket and T-shirt. He stood a few steps up in the bleachers, and looked around. The gym had been emptied for the coming summer, stripped of bright banners, toys and other childish things. The high ceiling gave his words a soft echo as he assigned orders to the rear guard. They were at T-minus forty-five minutes and counting.
"All right. Everyone got all that?"
The boys nodded. Xander had known most of this crew since junior high. Most of them he'd hand-picked from class lists printed out by Willow. Not all of them would make it through the day. Their body language was nervous, expectant; it spurred something in him. Shifting his stance, Xander smiled grimly. "I won't lie to you, guys. You're gonna see some bad shit today."
A sophomore in the back scoffed a little. "Yeah, I know." Xander answered. "This is Sunnydale-- it's always been war. Not everybody made it to graduation." He turned, pacing in the narrow row between the bleacher steps. "But today we're fighting back."
"Yeah!" Percy growled emphatically from the back, like it was halftime and Xander was Coach Fitzgerald giving a pep talk or something. Startled out of army mode, it took Xander a second to realize the jock's enthusiasm was actually sincere.
"We're Sunnydale," he said again. "We're the creeps and freaks and the weirdos. Everybody always pretended the weird shit wasn't happening. Pretended we couldn't change it. Well, we can now. We're taking back our town, and we're starting with our school."
"All right!" whooped Percy, and the rest of the squad erupted in cheers as well.
Idiots.
"Hey, okay. Quiet." Xander held up his hands, and the group hushed. He pointed across the gym to where Wesley waited nervously, just outside the half-open gym doors. "Follow the Brit. He'll set you up with your gear and take you to Angel."
Narrowing his eyes, he studied the group in front of him one last time. It was probably just his lingering hangover from Halloween, but still. They all looked too damn young. He wished he could send more seniors to the back, but the wrong people might notice if too many graduates were missing from the ceremony.
"Go," he said, and they went. No one straggled. No one looked back. Stupid bastards were going to die. Xander was so proud of them it almost hurt.
When they were gone, Xander hopped down onto the gym floor, dizzy with stage-fright and adrenaline and a weird, entirely foreign feeling he thought might possibly be patriotism. Running one shaky hand through his hair, he laughed to himself. He, Xander Harris, had been cheered at in the gym. Being jeered at, he was familiar with that, but he'd always thought it'd be the end of the world before anybody actually-- well, technically, it was the end of the--oh, never mind.
What next? He glanced down at himself. Gear up. Right-- he'd been so busy organizing D-Day '99, he hadn't gotten a chance to change into his graduation garb.Picking up the package he'd left next to the bleachers, Xander headed out of the gym. The plastic wrap bulged a little, thanks to the stakes and super-size cross he'd stashed in the folds of the maroon fabric.
Leaving the gym, he held one of the doors open for a couple of parental volunteers carrying punchbowls and paper napkins. His own parents hadn't been involved, of course, but Xander did remember hearing talk about an organization that had been fundraising all year for the reception and alcohol-free senior party. He thought about feeling sorry for them, and he thought about feeling amused-- there'd be no reception or party if things went to plan. Or even if they didn't.
But sometimes things just didn't happen according to plan. Nothing to do then except deal. Xander checked his watch again. T-minus thirty minutes. Counting down fast. Just before he'd met with the rear guard in the gym, Oz and Willow had taken Larry and Jonathan into town for one last equipment run... Hesitating for a moment, Xander decided to check in with Giles before heading for the music room, where the rest of the seniors were waiting to for the ceremony to begin.
Stripped of books, the library looked like one of Cordelia's friends without makeup: weird, anonymous and naked. Liquid sloshing noises echoed as Larry and Jonathan wrestled with a large metal drum, trying to get it up the stairs to the upper stacks. Crossing to the stairway, Xander leaned his shoulder into it, and finally the three boys shoved it into place next to an empty bookshelf.
Giles moved in to put the detonator and wiring in place, acknowledging Xander with a nod. "Xander. Everything's going according to plan?"
"That's an affirmative," Xander said crisply, adding "Yeah." when Larry and Jonathan gave him odd looks. "Uh. You almost done in here?"
"For the moment," Giles said, and stood. "You three should probably join the others."
"Yessir." Xander gave him a salute that was less mocking than pure reflex-- damn that Army guy. Give him an inch and he'd take Grenada. It was Giles' turn to give him a funny look over the tops of his glasses, but Xander shrugged it off, joining Jonathan and Larry at the bottom of the steps. "C'mon, guys. Move out."
"Uhh. This is gonna work, right?" Jonathan asked as they headed out into the hall.
Xander peered through the round windows in the library doors, then grinned in what he hoped was a convincing manner. "Well, they say if you can make a cake, you can make a bomb, but I got a D in Home Ec, so what do I know?"
Jonathan laughed a little weakly, and paused. "You go on ahead-- I'm gonna--" He gestured towards the men's' room down the hall. "See you guys later."
Xander nodded. Probably better that they split up anyway. He gestured to Larry, and they move on, skulking together through the bare, poster-free halls. The sound of their sneakers squeaking on the freshly-waxed floors seemed very loud-- but not compared to the slam and creak of the double doors around the corner. Xander and Larry froze, and then a nasal voice floated towards them.
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate your work on this, Mrs. Strickland." Creepy polite administrator voice, oh crap, Snyder. "I'm sure the PTA's done a wonderful job, and the reception's going to be absolutely appropriate for someone of the Mayor's stature--"
"Yes, of course, Principal Snyder--"
Xander blinked, caught up in a sudden mental image of that huge spiky thing from Giles' book, coiled up behind a table with a yellow paper tablecloth, daintily partaking of punch and cookies. And then the terror hit. Shit, they couldn't get caught in the hall now. Snyder had been the king of uptight lately. If he got suspicious now, it could fuck everything.
Locking a hand around Larry's arm, Xander dragged him towards the closest half-open door. His hand was sweaty and slipped on the doorknob, and then he managed to get it open wide enough to shove Larry inside. Following him into the cramped broom closet, Xander shut the door as quietly as he could, slowly and surely blocking out the light.
It was dark, and silent except for Larry's slightly hoarse, open-mouthed breathing. Pressing his ear against the door, Xander listened as Snyder and his PTA flunky passed the closet, heading for the gym.
Larry's breath was hot on his neck. "Are they gone?"
"Yeah." Xander started breathing again, then turned and reached up for the dangling cord that would bring on the broom closet's lone light bulb. He'd had a lot of practice at finding the cord in the dark. Larry blinked hard at the sudden light, and Xander smiled. "Let's get into our gear now," he suggested. "That way it's less suspicious if anyone sees us in the hall on the way back."
Larry nodded and stepped back a little, already digging into his own plastic-wrapped package. "Sounds like a plan."
"Okay. So I'm just gonna..." Xander shrugged off his jacket, trying to hold onto his cap and gown with one hand while he got the other out of his sleeve.
"Right." Larry tried hanging his cap on the corner of the over-crowded shelves, but his hands were shaking and he knocked two bottles on the floor. "Shit." He bent over to pick them up again, bumping his protruding ass into Xander's groin and jumping straight up. "Shit! Sorry man."
And oh shit, Xander realized, this was Larry, tortured gay jock Larry who'd shoved him around for years, then made a pass at him in the locker room. He, Xander the Geek, was changing clothes in a closet-- was the irony level high enough?-- with a school jock, the kind who wouldn't look twice at him if he wasn't channeling Soldier Guy and giving orders with the kind of authority he only had in the stickiest, dirtiest wet dreams. And where was Soldier Guy now? Not in the closet backing him up, that was for sure. Xander's stomach squirmed like he'd swallowed half of that wormy guy.
Larry had some kind of liquid soap leaking all over his hands from one of the bottles, and it gleamed stickily. Slick, sticky hands sliding as they held onto a cylindrical bottle leaking fluid from the tip... Jeez.
"Shit," Larry said again, in a smaller voice this time.
"Use this," Xander finally said, offering him his jacket. "It's not like it's gonna be here at the end of this."
"Thanks," Larry said, burying his hands in it. He grimaced an apology as he shoved it onto a filthy shelf, then stripped off his own v-neck sweater, letting it fall to the bare concrete floor.
Xander tried not to think-- something he was normally good at, but today was obviously National Irony Day for hollow-brained high school kids as well as being All-You-Can-Eat Graduate Buffet Day for demons. He concentrated very hard on dressing; set his cross and stakes aside and tried to figure out where exactly the zipper was on his gown.
Larry sighed heavily, and Xander looked up just in time to wish he hadn't; the sight of the guy stowing a single slim crucifix in his belt like a gunslinger drew attention to all the wrong areas in all the worst ways. Seemingly unaware of the worst-timed sexual identity crisis ever that was occurring just a few feet away, Larry held up his tasseled gown with a frown of distaste.
"You know, Harris, the fact that we're gonna be, like, sacrificed in some big snaky Satanic ritual just as we're getting outta this fuckin' hellhole is bad enough," the jock said distractedly, "but, jeez... maroon and yellow? I've been wearing a varsity uniform since freshman year, same colors, and I'm a winter." He made a face, and looked to Xander for support. "It's just the last straw, y'know? I don't wanna die in this."
Xander shrugged. In all the near-death experiences he'd ever had, he couldn't recall ever worrying about what he was wearing. Well, that was probably the big difference, there-- one of the many factors that, when you added them up, made Xander a totally straight, hundred percent heterosexual guy, and Larry-- Larry was looking at him funny all of a sudden. "We... y'know, we could die out there. Couldn't we?"
"Yeah," said Xander, unable to think of a cool-and-witty-yet-authoritative reply. "Probably."
"Well, you know. Um." Larry was breathing hard, in and out, a kind of block-that-kick determination stealing over his face, and his hands were clenched into fists and he was leaning closer, closer-- and shit, Xander was hard, shit shit shit, hard with a gay guy in a closet fifteen minutes before all hell was about to break majorly loose on his school.
Larry's hands were big and warm and somehow without Xander noticing they had drifted onto his shirt and were sliding down over the cotton, rubbing his belly and back up over his chest and down again, and it felt good and that wasn't a crime was it? "I just wanna," Larry said distantly, "you know. I mean, if this is my last day on earth--"
He held Xander firmly by the waist and bent with startling grace to kiss Xander's neck. Inhale, exhale-- Xander shuddered, and then Larry kissed his jaw, tongue flickering against skin and Xander was shaking, drawn irresistibly to turn his head towards Larry's, to breathe on Larry's ear and gasp into his hair. And his hands were on Larry's strong shoulders, first just hanging on tight and then urging Larry lower, and what the hell. If there was a blowjob in it for him, then it was just another day in the life of Soldier Guy, who seemed to think that ordering people around and blowing shit up was way cool, and that getting head from a subordinate was just another perk of a really damn perky job.
"Yeah, yeah, okay," Soldier Guy was saying, back with a vengeance and using Xander's mouth while Xander was distracted by thinking about it. His breath caught weirdly in his throat as Larry's hands pushed away his gown and undid his pants, and that would be the chemicals Larry had spilled making his head swim, the fumes making him gasp as warm fingers grasped him, and holy hell, this was gonna happen. Larry made a hungry sound and brought his mouth down and now Xander was making really embarrassing terrified gasping noises. Holy fuck.
Hot, warm, wet, desperate mouth and yeah, it's all good. Xander closed his eyes tight, got a good grip in Larry's freshly-trimmed hair and reveled in the happy noises the guy was making as he sucked Xander's cock.
"Oh, fuck!" Xander said, too loudly, as Larry moved up, grabbed his hips tighter. Pushed him back hard against the shelf with a jolt and Xander's cock slid deep, oh fuck, fucking Larry's mouth.
It felt great, better than slamming a stake into a vampire, better than sliding a long shiny shell into the perfect slot of a bazooka, way the hell better than thinking about the impending chewy blood-and-gristle death he really didn't want to think about. Xander's eyes were burning out on the bare bulb shining above them, but he couldn't blink and didn't care.
And then Larry moaned, once, and Xander was All Systems Go, Commander-- green lights flashing, engines vibrating, humming, roaring, just waiting for the push of that big, red, button, and Larry let go of his hips and pulled his pants further down, grabbed his balls in one hand and squeezed while his other hand slid across his bare, shivering ass, and slid a finger down and pressed, and we have liftoff, we have launch, there she flies, yessir yessir yes, yes, oh holy mother of Jesus yeah...
He was shivering, he was suddenly cold, empty, blue-purple globes and halos and afterimages were dancing in his eyes. He slumped and Larry straightened himself up, only totally metaphorically straightened himself because he was lunging for Xander's mouth and Xander was gasping as they collided, bittersweet taste of pleasure and power and terror and impending doom flooding through him, tainting both their tastes.
"Oh Jesus," Larry was gasping, and there was no way to pretend it was Cordy or Faith grabbing his hand-- "touch me, fuckin' A, Harris, now, touch me now--" not when the hand that was pulling his down was big, square big guy hand-- and their fingers were interlaced, locked together around Larry's cock, and Larry grunted hard, shuddering like Xander had reached in and was pulling his heart and lungs out of his body.
"Relax," Xander whispered. He tightened his grip, slowed his stroke, steadied Larry's shoulder with his left hand. Slow stroke. Another. Slow. Larry's other hand came up and cupped the back of his neck, gently, almost tentatively. Xander stroked again, adding a gentle twist of the wrist.
"Jesus fuck--" Larry was moaning now like he was coming apart, and it was gratifying, actually-- it was kind was nice to have independent confirmation that you were so good at something you spent so much time doing alone. Larry was getting noisy and losing the rhythm, his left hand twisting uncomfortably tight in Xander's hair, but the noise didn't particularly matter anymore, Xander thought, and sucked on Larry's neck. At this school, skipping class to fight evil was grounds for expulsion, but as far as he knew, getting busted for schoolboy homosexual interludes in the broom closet was nothing more than a cry for a support group.
"Shit, goddammit, do me--" Larry gasped, and came, breathing hot into Xander's neck.
Gotta love California, Xander thought. And maybe this was what he was meant to be doing, maybe Graduation Day meant doing totally indecent things in inappropriate places with people who wouldn't look twice at you on any other day. Maybe, he thought, grinding his hips against their joined hands, maybe now he'd had something of a normal graduation even if he never got his diploma, even if he died really painfully, really really soon.
Xander closed his eyes, panting. He realized, a little wistfully, that he really, really wanted to stay here and do this some more. But Buffy and Willow and everyone were in their places, the troops lined up. Everyone. Waiting for him to pull it together...
He took one slow breath, then another. There was a fresh package of paper towels on one of the shelves, and he ripped the plastic open and offered Larry a handful. Winced at the scrape of rough fibers against the sensitive skin of his belly, then set about arranging his cap and gown.
When they were both ready, Xander looked at the door for a moment, then over his shoulder at Larry. Deep, steady brown eyes in a flushed face looked back.
"Ready?" Xander asked, grabbing the handle and turning it slowly.
"Not really."
"Yeah." One hand still on the door, he reached out for a maroon-clad shoulder, pulling Larry's head down to kiss him deeper and longer, more desperately, maybe, than he'd ever kissed anyone. "Me neither." With one last deep breath of bitter, cloying broom-closet air, Xander opened the door and gestured, and Larry slipped past him, into the fray.
Waiting a moment more, Xander looked around at the broom closet one last time. Good old closet. He hadn't actually been in it for a while. Not since he and Cordy had broken up. But it was all the same. Rickety metal shelves, mysterious chemical compounds in plastic bottles, their labels crusty and peeling off. Same ice-cold concrete floor, same acrid chemical stench that'd make your ears ring and eyes water if you did too much heavy breathing without opening the ceiling vent.
Xander pressed his hand against one of the shelves for a moment, affectionately-- and then he realized that he was actually having a moment of affection for the stinking, squalid little room. An actual experience of nostalgia for a part of Sunnydale High School.
"Holy fuck but I'm messed up," he said, and shuddered.
He yanked on the light cord. Standing in the sudden blackness, he shoved away the receding ache and sweat of his orgasm, pushed away the memories. Pushed the door open. Stepped out into the light.
Graduation was waiting.
[end]