fiinalgiirl:

She let the conversation die. The answer should have been obvious, Rosie wasn’t about to take money from anyone – even if they were doling it out from the goodness of their heart. She didn’t trust anyone but her own family to really follow through on that, it was too much of a liability to let someone give you that much money. But, he’d done a nice thing, so her calling into question the rest of his motives was her gift to him, even if he didn’t know it. Even if he did, really. 

Rosie rolled her eyes, got into the car, and followed as best she could. There was no way she was keeping up, and she wondered how long he’d waited before she arrived. Show off, she thought, exiting the vehicle, purse in hand. 

“Yeah, they’ve got pancakes. Can’t vouch for how good they are,” she noted over her shoulder and walking into the restaurant, holding the door open for him. “I always get the chocolate chip waffle.”

The ride wasn’t that awfully long, in all honesty. Music filled the silence enough, blasting out the speakers even as he sat there and waited for Rosie to come traipsing along on that donut. He’d have taken her in his own car, but leaving her car there really wasn’t any sort of an option no matter what. 

Xander hadn’t waited long, really, a song or two, not like he hadn’t waited longer before. “You’re no fun when you don’t get my jokes,” she was holding the door open for him, bit of a reverse from normal, but he rolled with it, tipping a non-existent hat at her as they found their seats. 

“Guess I’ll get that, too.” He sure as hell didn’t eat here very often, but he didn’t want to take the time to look at a menu to figure out his order. Simple, and probably good-tasting, too. 

fiinalgiirl:

“I came after, not with,” she replied with a sardonic smile, her hand tightening on his arm, still heedless of his injuries. She couldn’t feel him beneath her hand though, a wavering blue barrier between them keeping her from reassuring herself that he was real and safe. Panic did not suit her well. She could think through it, figure out how to keep them alive, but her mind missed the little things – and tried to bridge the gaps despite obvious issues.

The rubble gave way beneath her pulls and his pushing. She knew she had a hold on him, the weight of his arm around her shoulder weighed her down. Rosie bent at her waist, her shoulders curved while she squinted through the haze of the ash. He was a big man and she stumbled over some of the debris that escaped her notice, eyes fixed on a point she felt was clear of all the danger; a good hundred feet from the demolished building. When he fell she fell with him, tumbling to the ground.

She rolled onto her back, her chest heaved; up and down, up and down. The thrumming in her ears mimicked her quickened pulse, but she didn’t have the luxury of catching her breath. The woman righted herself. Still, she felt nothing but the familiar static of the shield beneath her hands though the scratching of grass should have been present.

Her arm, scraped from her original fall, bleeding and shaky landed heavy on Xander’s shoulder. 

“You’re a son of a bitch, Xander,” she snapped, loudly – the sound muffled if not completely unintelligible to the outside world. “What the fuck?!” Her voice rose. “I asked you! Clearly told you! You could’ve fucking died, and you would’ve made me watch – what is your goddamn problem?!”

If any of his bones were broken, the leftover adrenaline was coursing through his veins enough that he couldn’t feel it. Besides, he was busy trying to figure out how to get free until Rosie showed up. Because he knew she would. Sure, it was a little unfair of him to expect that, but he’d gotten a good enough bead on her to know that she’d come through when he wasn’t able to do it all on his own. 

Xander was trying to breathe normally, taking in great gulps to get the burning feel of ash out of his lungs, but that would probably take more than just breathing. He’d probably have to go get one of those nebulizer things or something, maybe see a shaman, get one of them to clear it out. It took him a moment to realize she was yelling at him, because he still couldn’t hear, but she was gesticulating and….he couldn’t hear anything.

Was she glowing? She was glowing. He held his hand up, hoping to get her to pause, and said–a bit louder than normal, but not quite yelling—”What? I can’t hear you,” he might have been grinning still, just a bit, “The blast knocked my ears out.” She was mad, and she was glowing. “You’re glowing,” he pointed at her, at the blue film around her that seemed to muffle even the little he could hear.

Again, he held up a hand, a finger this time, and called out in a much louder voice in a foreign language It’s safe, you’re safe. Just on the other side of the rubble, a few heads popped up, and he pointed to them. He could read Rosie’s lips well enough to get ‘what is your goddamn problem?’ and all he did was point. 

“Them dyin’ for no reason was my goddamn problem.” 

fiinalgiirl:

She hadn’t even regained balance and he was off, surprisingly quick for all that muscle. Rosie started to make a loud shout after him, but worried that any loud sound on her end would give him away. Fuck, she hoped that he at least had the element of surprise on his side. But, from what she saw there was no other entrance so close that would allow him to disappear except for the obvious.

If she spotted it then there was no way that whoever was inside didn’t have a bead on it. 

In a fit of frustration she pulled at her hair and opened her mouth in a silent scream, dread crawling up under the skin of her arms like so many ants. She should leave, or call, call who was a good question. From what she could gather Xander might as well be the police. Still, she whipped out her cell and dialed 9-1-1, walking away from the building.

That’s when the explosion rang out, deafening loud, hot as anything at her back. The force of it sent her crashing to the ground, cell flying from her hands. She hit hard, skidding to a stop with ringing in her ears, the ground had caught her – a few abrasions on her forearms, a scratch at her face, but the thing had taken care of the rest. Nothing but the first roll left a mark; hell, it might be shock, but she couldn’t remember feeling anything but pressure after the first go round.

Her bearings regained, she spun around, the world just a tinge bluer than before. Xander. She ran as fast as she could into smoldering rubble, heedless of whatever structural damage could send it crashing down on her head. She saw the ash from the air catch and fall around her face as she breathed; her own bubble keeping her lungs clean. The heat was there though, dampened considerably, but there. Rosie stumbled through the debris until she saw a distinctive form. 

“Xander!” She yelled, and while it rang out clear in her ears, it didn’t make it two inches past her mouth. Rosie ran over, still yelling his name, and grabbed his arm – too tight, probably, given the injuries. “Xander hold on, I’m going to get you out, okay?” She said, mouth moving, but otherwise soundless.

He’d kind of been expecting the explosion, honestly. Xander knew that the people who ran this outfit weren’t going to keep hostages without some big, showy sort of back up plan, their own get out of jail free and piss off the cops while they’re doing it card. Even though Xander knew some protection spells, he didn’t have the magic in him to cast them, but he hoped that he had just enough time to get himself out of the center of the blast zone. 

Somehow, it had worked. He hadn’t died, but he could barely hear anything, the blast had fucked his eardrums up, probably for a good while. Everything was quiet, deathly so. For the first couple seconds, he thought he was dead and the locker had become his coffin, but death didn’t taste like ash, and death didn’t burn, but coming back from it did. That’s how he knew. The rubble was all around him, but he had maybe twenty square feet to move around in. He couldn’t stand, but he could move. At least there was that. 

A small hole near what was now the ‘ceiling’ of his little prison was about all he had, so he yelled at what he hoped was the top of his lungs, but everything was dark, ashy, and smelled like fire, the burning licked at all of his senses, and it was hard to do anything, but he shoved his arm through the hole. He could poke part of himself out, but not enough to actually save himself, not when he was still light-headed and his lungs were still full of ash. 

He felt the pressure on his arm, though, and Xander grinned. peering through another hole, “Thought you wasn’t coming with me,” he said, and he chalked up the fact that he couldn’t hear her to the fact that he couldn’t hear much of anything right now, save a ringing in his ears. When she’d moved a bit of the debris, it wasn’t hard for him to help her open the hole up enough to get him out, and he did his best to help her get him clear of the debris, of the rubble. Once they were out, his knees decided it was time for a break, and he flopped onto the ground. 

“What a rush,” he said, grinning again.

fiinalgiirl:

@thexanderzone

Did it count as abandonment still if you’re useless in a firefight? She didn’t know, doesn’t care to pose the question. Her mother and father would forgive her this one, she knew that. She would forgive herself this one too, if it went wrong. If he walked through there and caught one between the eyes. Xander was nice to her, but there were plenty of secrets between them. She doesn’t count them as friends, not really. Right?

Of course, casual acquaintances don’t exactly call each other at four in the morning for car help. They don’t drive out there and get waffles after. Fuck. It’s not the same, not the same as men with loaded guns and sharp knives; not to her. She had a feeling now it might be for Xander and she made a quick note to tone back any friend activities.

She held tighter, her nails dug into the skin beneath. He was a big man he’d be fine. “That’s not funny. You don’t know what’s in there.” If her hands were free she would have wildly pointed at the door, she made due with stomping her foot. “I-I can’t go in there with you. You gotta call someone. Anyone. I’m not letting go until you do.”

“I know one thing that’s in there,” he said, perhaps a bit too confident. He wasn’t god, he wasn’t immortal, but he’d had pretty goddamn good luck his entire life. There were more than a few times he should have come out of things dead and he’d ended up more or less unscathed. But Rosie was adamant, and even if his own gut had such a skewed view of what would be safe and what wouldn’t, he knew she trusted hers. 

“I gotta, Rosie.” To him, the fact that there might be an innocent in there, that was more than enough to sacrifice himself for, as long as they got out all right. Did that make him a good guy? Or an idiot. Either way, he wasn’t going to sit there and let someone die if he could do something about it. The blood rose to those wounds, and he shook his head. “Then stay here. There’s no time to call anyone.” Anyone he knew was too far away or wouldn’t be the right type of person to call for this. 

So he shook her–perhaps a bit too rough, but he had to go. Xander took off at a dead heat, because he could hear people crying inside. He knocked out more than a few lackeys and was able to free the hostages, but he heard a laugh, his vision whipping to the source, and he saw the guy punch the trigger button just in time. The entire warehouse erupted, and Xander had just enough time to cram himself into a locker of some sort before the flames reached him. His skin started to burn as the metal heated up, and he was trapped, and he lost consciousness.

He came to coughing, lungs filled with soot. “Rosie?” There was no way she’d followed him in, but he was alive, he knew the difference, he’d nearly died enough times. Another cough, and though he was able to open the locker, he was fucking trapped. Xander mustered whatever strength he had and he called out “Rosie!!” before he doubled over, lungs burning, unable to catch a full breath again. Maybe he’d die in here, but he did what he’d set out to do, so that was enough. 

fiinalgiirl:

“You never know; sounds like a Texas thing to claim, at least.” She handed the nuts over and continued. “Like a promise? And how do you hold people to those? Do they lose tire changing privileges?” She asked with a smile.

It quickly fell and was replaced by something flatter, and more annoyed. Couldn’t even let her lie in peace, fine then. “Right,” she responded, her own tone decisive. Sure, he wasn’t prying now, but she remained defensive, her posture stiffening, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Yeah, I’m sure there are and when I have time and money to go and be adventurous somewhere else I will.” Not for long, of course, but traveling was in the cards if the road trip idea didn’t pan out. 

“You can give me all your suggestions in the mean time and fill up my wish list,” she offered with false magnanimity. “And yeah, obviously, I told you I would, right? Anything you want on the menu – even the steak,” she teased while walking around and seating herself back in the driver’s seat. 

He shrugged, “Guess so,” but he’d seen much more impressive things in Texas than a big slab of meat. Architecture, missions, vistas cloaked in greens and browns. All better than part of a dead cow. Xander smirked at her, “At least. Maybe some other stuff, too.” 

She was mad at him, he didn’t blame her, he’d called her out on throwing a fib at him, thinking he wouldn’t be able to tell. He wasn’t going to apologize, either, because he’d done nothing wrong, he hadn’t said it out loud. “If money’s your problem, it doesn’t have to be.” Billionaires could afford to send a random stranger on a trip, they wouldn’t even miss the funds. 

Xander headed back towards his car. “Lead the way, then. I’ll have a list by the time we get there.” The drive didn’t take too long, he knew a shortcut, and so when she pulled up, he was leaning on his car. “I’m feeling like pancakes, think they’ll still let me in?”