World Without Superman, part 5
Apr. 16th, 2004 10:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doyleFor the first time in an age, more Buffy/Connor human AU! Well, just Connor in this part. And Wes/Lilah. And that angst did creep in there even though it's meant to be a funny, no-angst thing, dammit.
Previous parts are here.
Getting farmed off to his godparents' house had a couple of big advantages as far as Connor was concerned. Number one was the fact that his uncle Wes was a way better cook than his dad, who was the master of the microwave and a wiz at breakfast but approached any other culinary endeavours with slight fear. Number two was the plasma screen TV that he intended to sack out in front of as soon as he finished his second helping.
"Connor, sweetie, can you pass me the green salad?" Eve asked, leaning just a little bit too close into his side as she pointed to the bowl.
Of course, there were downsides to staying with Wesley and Lilah on the third Friday of the month, because that was when Lilah's sister and brother-in-law came over for dinner. He passed over the salad, careful to hold it out in such a way that her fingers couldn't 'accidentally' brush his.
"You doing anything fun in school?" Lindsey asked.
"He's got a new teacher," Lilah said. Connor knew the word 'saucy' but until he'd met his godfather's wife he hadn't really thought to apply it to anyway. It was a Lilah kind of word. She gave him a wink.
"That's exciting," Eve said brightly. "What does she teach?"
"Physics." He remembered her hair bouncing on her shoulders when she chalked the equation of density and momentum onto the board. After the third attempt she'd called up Cassie to do it instead. "She's probably the worst teacher I've ever had," he said happily.
Eve looked bewildered, but said, "That's… good?"
Lindsey said, "How about that art class you were talking about, at the community college? Had your first session yet?"
His good mood evaporated. "Nah. I decided not to go. I'm too busy with homework. SATs later this year." Angel's words coming out of his mouth. He pretended to be busy with the rest of his dinner, but he could feel the grown-ups exchanging glances.
"But you were really looking forward to it," Eve said, and that made him feel worse. He hated when Eve was nice to him. If she hadn't gotten drunk with his dad at the Hallowe'en party then Gwen wouldn't have walked in on them naked behind the couch and she'd still be around. He'd liked Gwen. Even if he hadn't, the whole visual was one he didn't need, though he was prepared to admit that was partly Lilah's fault. Sometimes her refusal to lie to him or treat him like a kid was a bad thing.
"It's no big deal," he said, shrugging. "I take art in school anyway."
Lindsey was about to say something, he knew it, probably about creativity and stifling it - his eyes went to the plastic hand resting awkwardly by his plate and he thought about the home-recorded tapes he'd found in the living room one day, Lindsey playing the guitar - but Eve shook her head, pretending it was a sneeze, and he didn't speak.
"Well," Wesley said. "Dessert?"
**
"Was it really your decision to not take the art classes?" Wes asked, once the others were in the living room and they were cleaning up. "I could talk to your father."
"No," he said. "Thanks, Uncle Wes. But it's okay."
"Sure? The offer's open," Lilah said, brushing a hand across his back as she passed. "Wesley can talk Angel around to most things he doesn't want to do." She hooked her arms around her husband's neck with a wicked smile. "Remember the protest on the roof of the political science building?"
He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Mm. The campus police wore grey. You wore blue."
Connor averted his eyes while the kiss went on, and on, and then, curious, he sneaked one little sideways look. Wesley's eyes were still halfway open. Lilah's were closed, but she was managing to kiss and smile at the same time. In the sketchbook in Connor's head he could see exactly how he would draw them; charcoal, outlines, keeping the details simple.
"Was that how you met?" he asked. "In college?" He'd always figured the story of Wes and Lilah was pretty simple: they met, they got naked, got married (he wasn't naïve enough to swap that order around), had sex twenty or thirty times a day for the next x number of years, the end. If the meeting part had happened when they were eighteen or nineteen, when he and Dawn and Andrew were nearly that age and none of them had got beyond first base - Andrew wasn't even anywhere near the park - then he was going to be even more depressed over the state of his romantic life.
Lilah leaned back against the kitchen table, fingers drumming lightly on the edge. "Freshman year at UCLA. He was an annoyingly British history major…"
"She was a brilliant, bitchy pre-law student," Wes said, adoringly.
"It was pure, deep hate at first sight," Lilah sighed, one hand coming up to cover her heart. "You know, he joined the debate society just so we could argue in public."
"Of course, we didn't start officially going out together for a year."
"Which was when my best friend started dating his best friend," Lilah said. "Traitors."
Wes's eyes had been on Lilah throughout their story. Now he was looking at Connor, his smile turning to concern.
"Darla," he said, realizing. "The friends. They were my parents."
Expression softening to that look of hers that wasn't pity, ever, partly why he liked her, Lilah said, "Yes, they were your parents."
"What was she like?" he asked, before they could change the subject or tell him to go watch TV. "Angel never talks about her, he doesn't even have any pictures, and Grandpa hated it when I asked, and you must have known her before my dad even met her. Do I look like her?"
Lilah glanced quickly at Wesley. Some signal passed between them, he thought, faster than light communication. Screw Einstein.
"Wes, take Eve and Lindsey in some coffee," she said. "Connor, come with me."
**
"That's right after you were born."
Wesley looked so young, he thought, hardly even processing that the tiny, screwed-up little face among the white blankets was him. "Where was my dad?"
Lilah shuffled the stack of photographs. "Getting arrested for punching one of the doctors, but I don't think I had the camera then."
"Did she - did she die right away?" The back of his throat was burning. He swallowed and said, "Did she even see me?"
Wordlessly, she handed over one of the pictures. A blonde woman, looking exhausted but happy, the same white bundle in her arms.
Lilah said something about checking that Wesley wasn't strangling Eve. When she came back, nearly an hour later, his eyes were dry.
"Can I keep this?"
"Keep as many as you like."
He carefully picked out a couple of the pictures of his mother, holding them by the corners - Darla on a beach, hair and legs a motion blur as Angel caught her around the waist and swung her into the air. Squeezed into a diner booth between Angel and Wesley. Holding him on the day she died.
She was beautiful. He smiled, and put the pictures to one side.
"Did you look through this set?" Lilah asked, holding up a picture of his father.
"Oh my God," he said, when he could speak. He had to look away from the photograph as he said it just to stop dissolving into fits. "He had Meatloaf hair."
"Take it," she said. "Keep it. I've known Angel for nearly twenty years, I have literally thousands of photographs of him with hilarious hair."
He tucked it into his pocket like a treasured possession. "If he does have a new girlfriend? Major blackmail material."
"That's my evil boy."
There were piles of boxes he hadn't opened. None were labelled, and the second set of polaroids he'd found were very much Wesley and Lilah's private collection, and he hadn't wanted to explore further. "It's cool that you kept all this stuff," he said.
"You were never down here before?"
He grinned up at her, feeling better, lighter, than he had all day. "I always kind of figured your basement would be a bondage dungeon or something."
"Silly Connor," she said, ruffling his hair. "The bondage dungeon's in the attic."
End (of this part)
Previous parts are here.
Getting farmed off to his godparents' house had a couple of big advantages as far as Connor was concerned. Number one was the fact that his uncle Wes was a way better cook than his dad, who was the master of the microwave and a wiz at breakfast but approached any other culinary endeavours with slight fear. Number two was the plasma screen TV that he intended to sack out in front of as soon as he finished his second helping.
"Connor, sweetie, can you pass me the green salad?" Eve asked, leaning just a little bit too close into his side as she pointed to the bowl.
Of course, there were downsides to staying with Wesley and Lilah on the third Friday of the month, because that was when Lilah's sister and brother-in-law came over for dinner. He passed over the salad, careful to hold it out in such a way that her fingers couldn't 'accidentally' brush his.
"You doing anything fun in school?" Lindsey asked.
"He's got a new teacher," Lilah said. Connor knew the word 'saucy' but until he'd met his godfather's wife he hadn't really thought to apply it to anyway. It was a Lilah kind of word. She gave him a wink.
"That's exciting," Eve said brightly. "What does she teach?"
"Physics." He remembered her hair bouncing on her shoulders when she chalked the equation of density and momentum onto the board. After the third attempt she'd called up Cassie to do it instead. "She's probably the worst teacher I've ever had," he said happily.
Eve looked bewildered, but said, "That's… good?"
Lindsey said, "How about that art class you were talking about, at the community college? Had your first session yet?"
His good mood evaporated. "Nah. I decided not to go. I'm too busy with homework. SATs later this year." Angel's words coming out of his mouth. He pretended to be busy with the rest of his dinner, but he could feel the grown-ups exchanging glances.
"But you were really looking forward to it," Eve said, and that made him feel worse. He hated when Eve was nice to him. If she hadn't gotten drunk with his dad at the Hallowe'en party then Gwen wouldn't have walked in on them naked behind the couch and she'd still be around. He'd liked Gwen. Even if he hadn't, the whole visual was one he didn't need, though he was prepared to admit that was partly Lilah's fault. Sometimes her refusal to lie to him or treat him like a kid was a bad thing.
"It's no big deal," he said, shrugging. "I take art in school anyway."
Lindsey was about to say something, he knew it, probably about creativity and stifling it - his eyes went to the plastic hand resting awkwardly by his plate and he thought about the home-recorded tapes he'd found in the living room one day, Lindsey playing the guitar - but Eve shook her head, pretending it was a sneeze, and he didn't speak.
"Well," Wesley said. "Dessert?"
**
"Was it really your decision to not take the art classes?" Wes asked, once the others were in the living room and they were cleaning up. "I could talk to your father."
"No," he said. "Thanks, Uncle Wes. But it's okay."
"Sure? The offer's open," Lilah said, brushing a hand across his back as she passed. "Wesley can talk Angel around to most things he doesn't want to do." She hooked her arms around her husband's neck with a wicked smile. "Remember the protest on the roof of the political science building?"
He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Mm. The campus police wore grey. You wore blue."
Connor averted his eyes while the kiss went on, and on, and then, curious, he sneaked one little sideways look. Wesley's eyes were still halfway open. Lilah's were closed, but she was managing to kiss and smile at the same time. In the sketchbook in Connor's head he could see exactly how he would draw them; charcoal, outlines, keeping the details simple.
"Was that how you met?" he asked. "In college?" He'd always figured the story of Wes and Lilah was pretty simple: they met, they got naked, got married (he wasn't naïve enough to swap that order around), had sex twenty or thirty times a day for the next x number of years, the end. If the meeting part had happened when they were eighteen or nineteen, when he and Dawn and Andrew were nearly that age and none of them had got beyond first base - Andrew wasn't even anywhere near the park - then he was going to be even more depressed over the state of his romantic life.
Lilah leaned back against the kitchen table, fingers drumming lightly on the edge. "Freshman year at UCLA. He was an annoyingly British history major…"
"She was a brilliant, bitchy pre-law student," Wes said, adoringly.
"It was pure, deep hate at first sight," Lilah sighed, one hand coming up to cover her heart. "You know, he joined the debate society just so we could argue in public."
"Of course, we didn't start officially going out together for a year."
"Which was when my best friend started dating his best friend," Lilah said. "Traitors."
Wes's eyes had been on Lilah throughout their story. Now he was looking at Connor, his smile turning to concern.
"Darla," he said, realizing. "The friends. They were my parents."
Expression softening to that look of hers that wasn't pity, ever, partly why he liked her, Lilah said, "Yes, they were your parents."
"What was she like?" he asked, before they could change the subject or tell him to go watch TV. "Angel never talks about her, he doesn't even have any pictures, and Grandpa hated it when I asked, and you must have known her before my dad even met her. Do I look like her?"
Lilah glanced quickly at Wesley. Some signal passed between them, he thought, faster than light communication. Screw Einstein.
"Wes, take Eve and Lindsey in some coffee," she said. "Connor, come with me."
**
"That's right after you were born."
Wesley looked so young, he thought, hardly even processing that the tiny, screwed-up little face among the white blankets was him. "Where was my dad?"
Lilah shuffled the stack of photographs. "Getting arrested for punching one of the doctors, but I don't think I had the camera then."
"Did she - did she die right away?" The back of his throat was burning. He swallowed and said, "Did she even see me?"
Wordlessly, she handed over one of the pictures. A blonde woman, looking exhausted but happy, the same white bundle in her arms.
Lilah said something about checking that Wesley wasn't strangling Eve. When she came back, nearly an hour later, his eyes were dry.
"Can I keep this?"
"Keep as many as you like."
He carefully picked out a couple of the pictures of his mother, holding them by the corners - Darla on a beach, hair and legs a motion blur as Angel caught her around the waist and swung her into the air. Squeezed into a diner booth between Angel and Wesley. Holding him on the day she died.
She was beautiful. He smiled, and put the pictures to one side.
"Did you look through this set?" Lilah asked, holding up a picture of his father.
"Oh my God," he said, when he could speak. He had to look away from the photograph as he said it just to stop dissolving into fits. "He had Meatloaf hair."
"Take it," she said. "Keep it. I've known Angel for nearly twenty years, I have literally thousands of photographs of him with hilarious hair."
He tucked it into his pocket like a treasured possession. "If he does have a new girlfriend? Major blackmail material."
"That's my evil boy."
There were piles of boxes he hadn't opened. None were labelled, and the second set of polaroids he'd found were very much Wesley and Lilah's private collection, and he hadn't wanted to explore further. "It's cool that you kept all this stuff," he said.
"You were never down here before?"
He grinned up at her, feeling better, lighter, than he had all day. "I always kind of figured your basement would be a bondage dungeon or something."
"Silly Connor," she said, ruffling his hair. "The bondage dungeon's in the attic."
End (of this part)
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no subject
on 2004-04-16 02:25 pm (UTC)