I swore I wasn't going to do this...
Ok, I swore I wasn't going to add to this story... it was supposed to be a one-shot! I don't have any kind of plot, but my power went out last night and I couldn't read, so I used the last of my battery power to write this... It was the only thing I could think of! I tried to continue 'Three' instead and it just wasn't happening.
I do not own Buffy or House!
The empty socket was rather jarring. Xander had tried to get his eyelid to close, but he’d been having trouble with sensing when the top was touching the bottom, so it left a bit of a space. House just grunted irritably and examined the area of skin around the cavernous flap. The scars that surrounded the lid were various. Some came from the surgery that had obviously taken place right after the incident that has lost the eye, others looked to be slash marks, more recent. It was as if he’d been in a fight with someone who had very long, very sharp nails, and he didn’t duck in time.
“Your reaction time is off,” House muttered as he carefully cleaned the newly healed marks with saline, just cleansing the skin of daily build-up. Xander just sat, patiently, on the side of his father’s desk and allowed the gentle swab of gauze to soothe his perpetual headache.
He often teased his biological father about his refusal to do “basic medicine”, it had become something of a dark, twisted joke. The first time he met Greg was when he was five and he’d just broken his arm (he laughed a little inside because, yeah, he’d broken his arm after his “father” had thrown him down the stairs).
His mother had driven him to the hospital and for some inexplicable reason Xander had presented with a broken arm, a high temperature, and a pre-cancerous growth on his shoulder blade. She’d called Wilson in a panic, who’d informed House that he was going to check up on an old friend. House was bored, so he tagged along.
The truth had come very quickly when Jessica had thrown a chair at Greg and told him it was all his fault. HER family never had cancer, so it had to have come from HIS.
The good news was that it wasn’t cancer. The bad news was that Xander had heard the entire argument and demanded answers. At five years of age he’d had an adult glare, one that House recognized from staring in the mirror at times. His instinctual knee jerk was to grab this kid and take him home, but as Jessica stood there and screamed at him he realized that he had no say in this kid’s life. He was a miserable excuse for a human being, and he had no idea what to do with a kid.
So they’d done tests, compared results and declared the kid healthy, and Jessica had told them that it was summer and Alexander should spend some time with his father. So without further ado she’d packed a bag and shoved it in Wilson’s arms, and told them that Alex had to be back before school started up or she’d call the cops.
That was how his son ended up spending most of his summer breaks with House.
“Call me Xander,” he’d said as he was discharged. “Willow calls me Xander, and I like that.”
“Who’s Willow?” Wilson had asked. House was still in a daze, what was he supposed to do with a five year old for six weeks?
“My bestest bestest,” Xander shrugged, wincing slightly as his cast shifted, but quickly covered up the reaction.
House noticed, yet again, as he cleansed his sons face, that Xander quickly hid any sign of discomfort. Even as House pried open the dilapidated eye lid and examined the hollow socket, Xander just gasped quietly and held still.
“How’s Willow?” House asked to distract his son, carefully making sure that there was no infection or worrying growths.
“Better, still exhausted from the move. She says that next time the city turns into a gigantic sink hole she wants at least a weeks notice.” Xander tried to make it into a joke, but there was no humor in his chuckle.
“She kicked me out of the hotel, told me that I had to come visit you and get checked out. She didn’t trust any of the LA doctors, and they’re really overworked right now.”
“Ok, she told me to have Wilson check me out,” Xander gave him a genuine smile. “Besides, the hotel we were staying at was owned by an Ex of hers, and we don’t get along. I was getting headaches every time I saw him. Kinda wanted to shove my fist in his eye whenever he smirked at me.”
“You’re still getting headaches,” House told him as he examined his sons intact eye.
“Yeah, but they’ll get better with time,” Xander was resigned to the pain, to the dizziness that attacked him each time he tried to force things into focus. He’d fallen down stairs and twisted his ankle because he couldn’t judge where the next one was. He’d started walking into walls and bumping into the girls, who would steady him and then be like guard dogs until they had something better to do. They were all acting like he was a complete invalid, and that was making him edgy with them all, prone to snapping at them. Dawn just wanted him somewhere safe, Willow told him that he needed to be near a good medical facility just in case, and Buffy had suggested he visit his father.
If nothing else, he reasoned, Greg wouldn’t treat him with kid gloves, he could get used to being a Cyclops without the concern of hundreds of mini slayers watching him with hawk eyes. He sighed as House started to change the bandages, laying a new pad down over top his closed eyelid and taping it carefully into place.
“Thanks,” Xander blinked, suddenly exhausted. It had taken him two plane rides to get there, and he’d had no idea how painful the pressure change was going to be until he experienced it. It had been a new and interesting kind of throbbing, as if a balloon was in his eye socket and every decent or ascent had blown it up to excruciating proportions. Faith had likened it to a marshmallow peep she’d once exploded in the microwave…
And speaking of Faith, that girl had abandoned him directly outside his dad’s office for the chance to chat up an interesting MA. She’d said the guy had given her guts a tingle and she wanted to know if it was because he was man candy or a demon of some sort. When the guy had blushed at her blatant come-on instead of running away in terror Xander had known she’d made a new conquest. He offered to wait until she was done destroying the guys virtue to meet up with her dad, but she said she’d catch up and tugged the embarrassed man down the hall.
“Hey, Boytoy,” speaking of the devil… Xander grinned at her as she grinned back. Chase and Foreman where staring at the doorway with open and honest expressions of shock. Faith didn’t believe in dressing up, or dressing down for that matter, so she was in her perpetual painted on jeans and low slung tank top. The only concession to modesty was the zip-up hoodie Xander had bought for her during their layover because the airport had been way too cold. Of course the sweatshirt was flame printed with the words “Born to Ride” on the back over a skull and crossbones, the zipper up front was tugged down to her navel, neatly framing her impressive cleavage. Xander scoffed, and she called HIM “Boytoy”.
“This your Pops?” She nodded with her chin toward Greg. House just grinned at her like he’d found a shiny new toy. Xander could just about hear all the remarks his father was about to make and braced himself. He knew putting these two in the same room would be akin to locking a couple of feral rabbits in a cage and just waiting to see if they’d start fighting or …
“I could be yours if you’d let me,” Greg wiggled his eyebrows in what was supposed to be a comical come-on.
“If you can last half as long as Boytoy here I might just,” Faith replied, a sly lilt to her smirk.
“Fuck.” Xander released his breath in a low huff. “I knew it, I told them, I begged!”
“And still they sent you off with me,” Faith crossed into the office, her hips should have been making Jessica Rabbit bongos explode. She place her hand gently on Xander’s cheek and tipped his head back to examine the new bandage.
“They didn’t know that putting you and my father together in the same room was a sign of the apocalypse,” Xander sighed as she stepped closer and ran her fingers through his hair.
“You need a nap,” she kissed above his scarred eyebrow and turned to House. “Keys?” She looked over at the doorway to the conference room, “And the rest of you can stop staring at my ass.”
Chase blushed, Foreman grinned, Cameron smacked them both in the back of the head.
“Do I have to stop staring?” House asked petulantly.
“Those aren’t my ass,” she grinned as she held out her hand. The musical clink of keys descended and she tugged Xander to his feet. “I’ll make dinner tonight, but you’re cleaning it up.”
“Yes Ma’am,” House nodded. “You have a car or should I call you a cab?”
“Rented a Maserati, we’ll be fine.”
“Faith saw the GranTurismo and nearly had an orgasm.”
“Yeah, yeah, and I would have had one earlier if you weren’t sporting such a headache, you girl.” She teased.
“Sorry Faith, I’m about orgasm-ed out for right now… you’ll just have to make due with nervous MAs.”
“Eh, wasn’t that good to tell the truth,” she sighed as she maneuvered him out the door.
“Wait…” Chase blinked as that comment filtered through his head. “She… with an MA?”
“Well, just goes to show, you don’t have to be a Doctor to get pussy in a hospital,” House chuckled as he turned back to his white board. “Differential Diagnosis people!”
Yeah, so there you go, a bit of back story and Faith! To tell the truth I really like Faith/Xander pairings, as long as it's believable... I've read so many vomit inducing stories where it's Xander being the perfect gentleman and "forgiving" Faith for her transgressions and Faith being so "grateful" that he is sooooo wonderful that ... well, you get the idea. Personally I think they both need someone to snark at safely, which is why the other Scoobies sent Faith instead of taking him themselves. He's been getting irritated with all the girls who are "worried" and "want to help"... So they sent Faith, who will snark right back and is more likely to survive Xander's father... hope you liked!