Day-Dream Believer

By K9


Xander Harris sat dejectedly on the bench outside of the Sunnydale High School. Tomorrow night was Halloween, there were parties *everywhere*, and he hadn't been invited to a single one.

No date, no *life*.

He knew that he was probably being unreasonable, and he knew that Buffy *was* the slayer, and as such she *was* expected to work on the busiest night of the year on the Hellmouth. And where Buffy went, Willow followed with her spell book, ably assisted by the local vampire, and werewolf tag team, leaving him, as usual, to follow on like an old, incontinent spaniel who only got invited because they didn't want him to stay at home alone; they probably thought that he whizzed up the drapes when no one was watching, or something.

Xander sighed heavily, he knew that it was necessary to fight the powers of evil, but he was still feeling lonely, and rejected, and *incredibly* horny.

Of course, therein lay his latest problem.

After an encounter with Faith, and months of dating Cordelia, he thought he was possibly off women for good.

He'd found that these days, he was happy to look, but for some reason, he just didn't want to touch anymore. The thought of sex had somehow become scary...

..except with Scott Leyton, the big football jock.

That guy had muscles in places Xander wasn't aware you could get them. Great bulging biceps, a huge wide chest, washboard stomach, and the biggest dick that nature had ever created.

Now...he'd only noticed this stuff because he'd once, accidentally, been caught in the showers at the same time, and just *happened* to take note.

It was at about the same time that he started searching the internet for information on penis enlargement.

But, back to Scott.... all two hundred pounds of muscle, and sinew. Soft, hairless skin, except for that pale blonde bush at his crotch, which exactly matched the wheaten close cropped hair on his head, and the pale eyebrows, giving him a Scandinavian look, and *all* of which gave Xander a permanent hard-on.

<Could be worse,> Xander thought, <He could be a demon, or a vampire or, God forbid, a Republican,> but, when all was said and done, getting horny over the school football jock was pretty damn low.

The current revelations, plus years of being a fan of the Hardy Boys, added up to the frightening conclusion that Xander had, indeed, landed butter side down after all.

He sat back, and wondered when it was he'd really begun to notice other men around him?

Was it *really* the fault of Scott Leyton? Had those incredible muscles, and that quite terrifying penis, *really* turned Xander from a girl chasing loser, to a *boy* chasing loser?

He couldn't remember ever being attracted to say...Angel or Oz? But that could just mean that he wasn't into necrophilia, or those of a canine persuasion.

And of course there was Giles. Xander sniggered to himself; Giles, well...yeah...Giles?

Sitting up sharply Xander scrubbed his face. "Oh please" he muttered, "Giles? He's old and...and...stuffy and...a *librarian*," Xander threw up his arms. That settled it; everyone knew that you didn't get gay librarians. And well...he was...*British*.

There, what more was there to be said?

"Giles!" he chuckled to himself.

"Yes?" A voice said suddenly from beside him.

Xander shot to his feet, coming face to face with non other than Rupert Giles, school librarian, and Watcher.

"Giles! Hey!" he croaked, feeling his eye twitch the way it always did when he'd been caught out doing...*something*.

"Did you want me for something?" the older man asked.

"NO! No, what makes you think that? Did I ever give you a reason to assume that I wanted you in *any* way? Have I ever made advances towards you? Or shown any preferences for my own gender?"

Giles' face creased in that interminably puzzled frown that he felt he'd worn permanently since his arrival in the U.S.A. "Xander what *are* you babbling about?" he gasped.

" said that I wanted you, and I never remember even looking at you like a"

"You just said my name as I passed. That's why I asked what you wanted," Giles replied with a sigh.

Xander swallowed past the boulder in his throat, as the tidal wave of heat, starting at his toes, engulfed him. "Oh."

"Well, *did* you want anything?" the Watcher asked again patiently.

"No! Nothing, thank you."

Shaking his head at the enigma that was American youth, Giles strolled away.

Xander slumped back on the bench. "What a jerk!" he hissed to himself, "No, 'jerk' isn't a strong enough word. They don't *make* a word sufficient to cover what I am."

After the heat in his face had receded, Xander sat back, and resumed his daydream.

<Now where was I? Oh yeah...Giles. Wonder what he looks like under all that tweed?>

The End