Once More, With Squealing: A Buffy Fanfic

Things Aren't Going Swell

The next morning arrived and Anya sat up in bed, having just woken up, full of unfulfillment. She noticed Xander wasn't next to her, and so, figuring that maybe he'd had trouble sleeping, she got up, clad in her sexiest red lingerie, not that it had made any difference last night, and headed to the kitchen. There she found Xander, standing next to the stove. He was wearing his red speedos that, as with Anya the night before, he now had trouble filling.

"You want some breakfast, baby?" Xander asked, determined to please his bride-to-be somehow.

"You don't have to get to work?" Anya asked.

"I shut the crew down for the day. My guys start dancing around sexy, we'd get a whole Village People vibe."

"Couldn't you just try and stop them?"

"You can't stop the music," explained Xander, suddenly serious. "Nobody can stop the music." Then his voice flipped back to its usual more jovial tone, "So, waffles?"

A big smile crossed Anya's face, lighting up the room. "That sounds like a cue for a song if ever there was one."

Xander started to reply, but by then the music was starting up and his voice was fading out, while Anya turned away from him and started singing, confiding to no-one in particular:

This is the dude cooking food who I'm glued to

Isn't he great?

Give me a trough and I'll scoff all the waffles

That he can make

I've lived a vengeful life

But now I'll go and be his wife

The only trouble is...

He'll never swell

Now it was Anya's turn to start talking, but Xander ignored her as he abandoned his waffle-making and started to sing:

This is the dame with a name that's changing

Its surname to mine

We will be wed and in bed and embracing

Our bodies entwined

I'll always love her so

And never fail to let her know

There's just one thing that - D'oh!

I'll never swell

At that point Anya joined with him to sing the next line, as they both stared down forlornly at his speedos:

And there's not much to swell

Anya, sad about the disappointing way the song was going, and its tragically retro nature, grabbed hold of Xander by his speedos and led him into the living room, hoping to liven things up. She pushed him down onto a dining chair and straddled him, grinding her body against his in time to the music. She was hoping this would raise more than just his eyebrows.

"It droops," Anya sang, as sexily as she could muster.

"It wheezes," Xander sang back excitedly, all of his body aroused, except for the important part.

"Say 'foreplay' and it freezes."

"She tries some sleazy teases, but it won't revive."

Her hand moved down to his speedos, but still there was no joy.

"It balks at my squeezes."

"But nothing she does pleases."

"His penis has deceasedness, it's just gone and died."