Buffy the Vampire Slayer Preferences + imagines/one shots

Xander - Bad Boy

Sitting in the food hall, waiting impatiently for my friends, I look over at Cordelia who's opposite me, wondering if she's going to continue prodding her salad in silence or randomly insult me. 

"That lip-gloss really doesn't suit you." she states matter-of-factly, picking up her purse to rummage around in it noisily.

"That's nice." I reply, icily, taking a bite of my lunch.

"Here," she hands me a small red tube, "This colour will compliment your skin tone way more."

"Thanks," I reply, a reluctant yet pleasantly surprised smile crossing my lips. I twist open the gloss and apply it, "Looks good?"

"Better." she nods, triumphant, "Maybe now that vampire you've been pining over will finally notice you." 

"I am not pining!" I reply with a blush, "And hey, you're one to talk. Hello? Angel?"

"Now," she points a finger at me, "I  am not pining over Angel - I'm not a loser. I am simply waiting for him to realise I am way better than Buffy in every single way. And at least Angel isn't evil like that British dude you're in love with."

I shake my head - it's futile to try and defend myself. All I said was that I thought Spike was pretty attractive - you know, for a murderer - and nobody's been able to let it go. Maybe I should let them think that anyway, so they don't find out who I actually like... A guy who is a lot less cool but so much more lovable. The kicker is, he's my best friend and I don't want to endanger our friendship. 

"Helloooo?" Cordy snaps her fingers, "I'm talking to you! As I was saying, Angel just can't see why-"

"Who is that ?" I can't help interrupting, pointing to a guy sauntering into the cafeteria. He's wearing bulky black boots with gleaming, steampunk buckles and chains, jeans so navy they're basically black and, most noticeably, a leather jacket which swings by his calves as he walks.

"A Billy Idol wannabe," Cordy rolls her eyes. My own eyes almost pop out of my skull when the figure turns and makes eye contact with me. "No. Way." Cordy gapes, dropping her fork with a clank. 

"Hey guys!" Xander says cheerfully as if this were any other day. Except it's not because he looks like he's been adopted by Spike.

He's met with a wall of silence before Cordy gets up with her tray, remarking, "I'm sorry, I cannot be seen dead with you."

Xander takes it in his stride, plonking himself down in her empty seat. He grins his signature goofy grin and steals the remains of the croissant that rests on my lunchbox.

"No," I say, sliding my chair back a little to take in his whole presence, "Don't play dumb, Harris. What is going on?"

"What?" he asks in mock offense, "Nothing."

I let out an exasperated sigh before I spot Buffy and Willow approaching, lunches in hand, over to our table. Both of their eyes are wide, darting from the leather-jacketed 'stranger' to me. Buffy points to him with her free hand as she gets closer, mouthing "Who's the hunk? Should we leave you two alone?" while Willow smirks to herself. Unfortunately, they're about to be gravely disappointed (and confused). I shake my head and watch their faces switch from delighted to horrified. 

"Xander!"

"What did you do with your hair?"

"Are you insane?"

"He's possessed! He must be possessed! I'll get Giles!" Willow stands but Xander pulls her back down by the sleeve of her jumper. 

"Chill out, guys!" he says casually, "Now, has anyone done the math homework?"

We blink at him. 

"Xander! Why are you dressed like that?" I burst, gesturing wildly to his getup.

"Dressed like what?" I raise my eyebrow and Buffy scoffs. "I'm just trying out a new style! Apparently, this in what's in. The girls love it. They can't stop staring."

All three of us girls exchange a look, none of us having the heart to tell him that they're staring because of how strange this look is on dorky Xander. 

--------------------

After school, I catch Xander shoving some books into his locker so I swing by, asking, "Hey, Xander. What you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah... So, you're still coming round to my house today?"

He puts a thick history textbook in his backpack, hauls it over his shoulder and sets off, not bothering to wait for me. "I guess," he replies.

I knit my eyebrows at his curtness, "Okay, Xander," I say as we walk, "What's with the attitude? And what is with the clothes?" 

He sighs, tired, "Look, I just... It's nothing."

"Cut the crap, Harris, what's up? Is something wrong?"

"I just want to be noticed, okay?" he turns to me, frustrated, "I want girls to look at me the way they look at Angel, Spike, or the football team!"

One word stands out to me: Spike. The black, the leather, the nonchalance... My skin turns hot - could Xander be jealous?

"You want to be more like Spike?" I ask, still confused although it's starting to come together.

"Of course! I -" he stops himself, as if he knows he shouldn't say what he wants to.

"And this..." I choose my words carefully, "Doesn't have anything to do with me saying he was attractive?"

"I mean, yeah. I know the bad boy type is popular with lots of girls," he hastens to add, "So I thought they might look my way a bit more if I looked like him." he pauses and casts his eyes down, "I know they were all sniggering at me."

I reassure him that I don't think he looks bad, I'm merely confused by the sudden change. I feel so bad for him, because it's not like nobody notices him. I notice him. I want him to know that. He looks back up and slows his pace.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, "I'm really embarrassed. I just..."

"I know," I say, "Is... is there a girl?"

"What?"

"You know, someone you did this for?" He purses his lips so I continue. "Because, if there isn't, I was wondering if you'd like to go out on Saturday?"

Now, it's Xander's turn to be shocked. He stops short and stares at me, as if sussing out if I'm serious or not. After a minute, after he's concluded, he smiles shyly.

"Yeah, I'd like that." 

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