Anya/Xander: The Thin Blue Line

[doyle]

Title: The Thin Blue Line
Author: Doyle
Pairing: Anya/Xander
Rating: PG. Or possibly even G.
Notes: for the Anyaficathon for katemonkey who wanted a pregnancy test and a minimum of angst. Err… there's some angst. But I did try to minimize it. Honest.



Anya was upset. She'd been upset for a day and a half, and so far there was no sign of the silver lining on her hurricane, or whatever that silly human platitude was. Sunday mornings were supposed to be about sleeping late and not going to church. Spending it in the bathroom at Xander's apartment when they weren't even having sex seemed such a waste, and now she was expected to take some kind of test, and hadn't she had enough of that with the SATs?

"Not that kind of test, sweetie," Xander said, sounding distracted.

He was reading the directions that had come with the pregnancy test the lady at the drugstore had helped her pick out. Anya sat down on the cool porcelain edge of the bathtub and waited for him to finish. She'd tried telling him that the instructions were perfectly clear, though she couldn't see how passing water over the little stick could tell her if she was pregnant, unless the small unborn human had affected some kind of mystical change over the apartment's faucets.

She glanced down at her flat, ordinary-seeming stomach, and poked it. "Leave the water alone, possible-baby. Workmen are crude and charge high prices."

Xander was upset too, she could tell. Not in the same way he'd been these past weeks since Joyce had died, but still not the real Xander. She wanted real Xander back, not this person who looked like Xander but who didn't tell enough stupid jokes she never understood or bought her nice things even when it wasn't a sanctioned gift-giving holiday.

When she'd told him, the day before, that she'd missed a period and therefore was potentially carrying a new person made of their combined genetic makeup, he'd looked confused. Then he'd laughed, which had made her happy, except that the laugh was too high, and his face looked frozen like the Joker's. That had intrigued her until she remembered that the Joker was the bad guy, even if he did look not unlike a Kraklak demon she'd dated once, and her Xander wasn't allowed to look like the bad guy. He must have seen her looking sad, then, because he started talking about how much he loved her and how everything would be fine. Which had made things worse because it made her start to think that everything wouldn't be fine, or why would he be reassuring her, and she had retreated into chocolate fudge ice-cream and a rented copy of Dunston Checks In. Even the double whammy of frozen desserts and hilarious monkey antics hadn't helped, and when she had conscientiously tried to narrate for the fetus what was happening onscreen (as she was sure was recommended in the baby book by that man from Star Trek) Xander had said something about going to check on Buffy and left.

That had made her even more anxious. She could be carrying twins, or triplets. A litter, even, and he wanted to check on Buffy? She had cursed men for less! And she'd decided then and there that, by golly, she was going to find out for sure if she was pregnant, with or without him.

Currently it was with him, because she was scared and didn't want to take the test by herself, but in principle she was the poster girl for independence.

"Have you read that yet? This tub is making my bottom cold."

"Eight times," he said. "Okay, seems simple. You pee over this plastic thing, wait a few minutes, and it tells you if you're pregnant. Two blue lines for baby, one for no baby."

She bounded to her feet. "Ooh, which did we get?"

"We didn't get anything yet, An, you haven't taken…" A strange look came over his face, as if he'd bitten into something and found it filled with lemons. Or chili powder, which he'd made her promise never to put on cereal again. "Which would you want to get?"

Oh, no. She knew the kind of trap these questions were. She hadn't spent centuries dealing with emotional wrecks of women and not learned a thing or two. "Well, which would you want to get?" she challenged.

He opened and closed his mouth, no sound emerging. Anya watched with interest, wondering if they should get a goldfish as practice at looking after a dependent creature. What with the Glory situation, she didn't think Buffy would let them borrow Dawn for a few weeks.

"Anya," Xander said, his words deliberate, as if he was picking them carefully. "When you told me, it was a surprise."

"Surprise birthday party surprise or surprise attack by hordes of demons surprise?" she wanted to know.

"The first one," he said quickly, then admitted, "though not without the sudden chilling terror of the second. But then I drove around and had time to think about stuff." He reached out, twining his fingers lightly with hers. "Anya, if you're having my baby, if we've made something that special, then that's the best thing I've ever done. And that's scary, but it's the good kind of scary. The best kind."

She still didn't understand being human; she thought she knew how tear ducts worked, but not why they sometimes made her eyes prickle when she was happy. "You've helped saved the world," she pointed out.

He brought his other hand up to cup her face. "This? Still better."

She knew there were things they weren't saying, about money and the danger of raising a child on the Hellmouth and all the practical things. She guessed that was what that proverb meant, about chickens and not counting them until they hatched. Which seemed a convoluted way of saying 'don't plan for a future you're not sure will happen', dubious advice at best and one that didn't need further confusion by bring poultry into it.

"Xander," she said, "what if I'm not pregnant?"

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, once, then released her. "Then it doesn't mean this isn't happening for us. Just not right now." He held out the test.

"I still don't get why we couldn't find an online pregnancy tester," she grumbled. "This peeing business seems needlessly messy, and not in a kinky way." But she took the white stick from him, staring down at the panel where she presumed the lines would appear.

She didn't move towards the toilet, and Xander didn't leave, and a minute ticked by in silence.

"I had a list," Anya finally said. "The list was very specific. Successful career, marriage, beautiful home, some more career, then baby. What was unclear about the list?"

Xander smiled. "The list was great," he said. "As lists go, it was right up there with the best."

She loved his eyes. Without thinking, she curled her hand over her stomach and wondered if their baby would have eyes like his or her daddy.

"I get to pick the baby's name," she said.

"I get veto rights if the name rhymes with 'M'hoffryn'." He kissed her softly on the lips and then, quicker, on the tip of her nose. "I'll be right outside. I'd stay, but that verges on scary co-dependence."

"I'm not co-dependent," she huffed.

"Kinda meant me."

She closed the door after him, but didn't lock it, and she leaned back against the wood for a second, imagining him on the other side doing the same thing.

One blue line or two. One blue line or two…

"Xander?" she called. "I'm going to do the test now."

"Okay. I'll be right here."

She took the test.

And when she saw the result, she opened the door and he was right there, where he said he'd be, and that was more important than anything else.


END

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