Thank you so much for the link to your Wes/Xander fic. I loved it. Wesley had just the perfect amount of defensive snark and Xander's basic decency shone through so well. I loved the 'On the Road' discussion and Wesley's initial disdain for something that was potentially life-changing for Xander until he realized how much he was just adopting a position. And my hormones love the idea of Wesley wearing Xander's too big clothes.
Moments happened, between men. Between boys. Xander remembered. Twelve years old, in a room with Jesse, stretched on the floor reading comic books. An accidental scraping of legs. A shared look. In the van with Oz, bumping elbows. A back slap from Holden Webster, in gym class, that went on a second too long. Xander knew what you did with these moments. You turned your head. You dropped your hand. You said something about Wonder Woman, or Radiohead, or the Lakers, even thought neither one of you knew the first fucking thing about basketball; you said something to let the other guy know it was all right, it didn't mean anything, to reassure everyone who overheard that the two of you were men.
Xander understood. But he didn't look away. He didn't speak. He tightened his grip on Wesley's palm, leaned in and kissed him on the mouth.
I loved that moment; and the sense one had with both Xander and Wesley in their younger days that they spent so much time afraid of their words/actions being misconstrued by another man, of people mistaking them for the kind of men that liked men, that they never dared take a moment to wonder if perhaps they were.
Lovely fic, thanks so much for giving me the link.
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Date: 2005-11-03 12:00 pm (UTC)Moments happened, between men. Between boys. Xander remembered. Twelve years old, in a room with Jesse, stretched on the floor reading comic books. An accidental scraping of legs. A shared look. In the van with Oz, bumping elbows. A back slap from Holden Webster, in gym class, that went on a second too long. Xander knew what you did with these moments. You turned your head. You dropped your hand. You said something about Wonder Woman, or Radiohead, or the Lakers, even thought neither one of you knew the first fucking thing about basketball; you said something to let the other guy know it was all right, it didn't mean anything, to reassure everyone who overheard that the two of you were men.
Xander understood. But he didn't look away. He didn't speak. He tightened his grip on Wesley's palm, leaned in and kissed him on the mouth.
I loved that moment; and the sense one had with both Xander and Wesley in their younger days that they spent so much time afraid of their words/actions being misconstrued by another man, of people mistaking them for the kind of men that liked men, that they never dared take a moment to wonder if perhaps they were.
Lovely fic, thanks so much for giving me the link.