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Pop Goes the Weasel

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Summary: Xander the Ice Cream Man meets a very special customer. Fluffy boy slash of the Xander/Graham variety. You know you love it.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
BtVS/AtS Non-Crossover > Romance > Graham/Xander(Past Donor)gleefulmusingsFR1311,6385101,9926 Oct 106 Oct 10Yes
Title: Pop Goes the Weasel
Author: xanzpet
Beta: mysterious_daze
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season Four, AU.
Pairing: Xander/Graham
Rating: FR-13
Warning(s): Language, m/m slash.
Distribution: Please ask first. Please do not screencap this story, save it to hard drives, exchange with others, or translate into other languages without written consent.
Feedback: Con-crit is always welcome; flames are ridiculed and put on display.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, lyrics, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Snippets of dialogue may be incorporated from the original canonical episode(s) and belong to their respective authors/creators. The original characters and plot are the property of the author(s). The author(s) is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, nor should any be inferred. No profit is being made.

Summary: Xander the Ice Cream Man meets a very special customer.

* * * * *

Xander had decided to swing by the campus in his ice cream truck primarily to surprise his two best friends with chocolatey goodness.

As far as he was concerned, there were no academic problems which couldn’t be solved with a waffle cone and rainbow sprinkles, and he was pretty sure Willow and Buffy felt the same way. So, he had been inching his way down the main thoroughfare, blaring his ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’ chimes to entice all the cool kids into parting with their daddies’ hard-earned dollars.

Somewhere between the mulberry bush and that infernal monkey, Xander heard someone shouting.

Sensing possible danger afoot, he had turned on his hazard lights and slowly pulled over to the curb and killed the engine, withdrawing the emergency stake he kept under his seat and ready to lob a scoopful of holy water ice chips he kept at the ready in one of the front freezers. Even though the sun was shining brightly, it was best not to take chances.

“Thanks for stopping! I was afraid I’d miss you.”

Climbing out of his seat, Xander made his way to the window and stuck his head out. “What can I do you for today?,” he chirped.

“Do you have any Garbage Pail Kids?,” came a hopeful reply.

Xander blinked and then tried to focus on the requester.


Okay, he was pretty sure he wasn’t totally gay, but at that moment, he was willing to make some concessions, because, damn.


“I’m still trying to get a hold of Spacey Stacey.”



Xander blinked again. Okay, this guy had to be a demon, because no one in nature looked like that. Even Angel hadn’t looked like that, and Xander had looked. Lots of times.

Square jaw? Check. Dimples? He looked at both cheeks; double check. Twinkling blue eyes the color of a New Mexico sky? Yup. Perfect toothpaste smile which could rival that of Cordelia? Absolutely. And all that was just above the neck.

Seconds felt like hours as his eyes slowly slid down a body which should have been on billboards for gyms. Holy hell.

First of all, no one, not man nor woman, should be allowed out of their house, apartment, prison cell, dorm room, or any other domicile dressed like that. It was the middle of September! Surely this guy should know that tank tops and cutoffs were inappropriate for this time of year! Especially in southern California! It didn’t matter than his tanned skin was the color of cooling caramel, or that it looked as softer than the Velveteen Rabbit, or that there were a few freckles on display which looked strategically placed by Rembrandt.

It was way too much potential nudity!

And how did someone get a body like that, anyway? How often did this guy work out? And what did he wear while he was doing it? Hopefully as little as possible. Xander wondered if he still had that old Speedo from high school, because he should do the Good Samaritan thing and offer it to this guy. Maybe in return for a few Polaroids.

And what gym did he go to, and could Xander stalk, er, tag along? Were they taking new members?

He felt the flush creeping up his neck, causing a slight sheen to break out over his upper lip.


The guy grinned at him. Grinned! And the toothpaste smile somehow grew wider and whiter and more enchanting. And where had that cleft in the chin come from? That hadn’t been there before, had it? Xander was sure he would have taken note during his inventory.

And the grin wasn’t mean! It wasn’t condescending or incredulous or placating. It was almost shy, and definitely kind of sweet. And maybe a little sly?

Xander leaned slightly forward on his elbows, heart ready to burst forth from his chest. “Um, sorry, but you know they don’t make those cards anymore, right? Not since the early nineties.”

The man gave a dejected sigh. “Yeah, I know. I guess I was just hoping against hope. You never know when one might turn up. And I heard they don’t clean these things very often.”

“Um. Can I get you something else?”

That grin again. “And what if what I want isn’t on the menu?”

“I take special orders!”

Xander restrained his hand, which wanted to slap his forehead.

“Do you?” The grin became a leer. “Take orders?”


Oh, god! Did he just squeak? Could he be any more lame? He was positive he heard Cordy’s cackling laughter echoing down from L.A. on the Santa Anas.

The other man leaned forward. “I’m Graham.”

“Like the cracker?”

Oh, hell! He didn’t just say that! And had Graham’s voice just dropped? Kind of like a purr? Or a growl? Please let it be a growl!

“That’s me. Sweet and crunchy. Great in pies.”

Xander swallowed heavily and thought of possible fillings. He had an unsettling feeling that Graham was flirting with him, and he had no idea what do to about it. If it had been Angel, he could have just punched his arm and ran away, or made some snide comments and rolled his eyes. That was standard, after all, and no one had ever caught on. Well, except for Cordelia, who had spied he and Angel locking lips after they blew up the school, but she just knew about stuff like that.

“I have ice cream.”

“There’s always room for that,” Graham replied, patting his stomach, on which Xander was sure he could grate nutmeg. Nutmeg was great on ice cream, but only if it was fresh. “Vanilla cone, please. One scoop.”

Xander raised a brow. “Vanilla? Playing it safe, are you?”

“The simplest things can bring the greatest rewards. And are often the most satisfying.”

With shaking hands and a painful boner, Xander shuffled toward the back of the truck to fill Graham’s request, imagining all sorts of naughty things he could do with a Graham and an ice cream cone. The list was varied and extensive.

He chewed on his lip. He needed to keep it together. He needed to play it smart and cool. He needed to be savvy, suave.

No, not suave, because suave made him think of that stupid Rico Suave song, and if he thought about that stupid song, it would be stuck in his head for days. But damn if that song wasn’t written for someone like Graham.

Most of all, he needed to make sure that his apron was loose enough so that it wouldn’t announce that his privates were most definitely standing at attention.

Fingers trembling as if with palsy, he held out the cone to Graham. And proceeded to drop it right on his chest.

Xander stood there stupidly, watching the ice cream slowly melt down Graham’s torso as if in slow motion, as if in a porno movie, bits of it falling inside of his shirt, the rest clinging to the thin material and causing it to stick to his body. His almost naked body. His absolutely delicious almost naked body.

How many licks would it take to get to the center of Graham? He was betting on more than three, if he was lucky.

Oh god. He was so gay. As gay as a picnic basket.

He and Graham should have a picnic. Then, they would link arms and skip merrily down a country hillside toward a babbling brook, picking wildflowers on the way, where they would meet up with Cher. Then they would all feed deer from their hand and sing a disco version I Got You, Babe.

He couldn’t be any gayer if his name was Gay Gayerson.

“I’m so sorry!,” he miserably moaned, putting his head in his hands. “This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to interact with the general public. I’m a menace.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Graham said kindly. “Accidents happen.”

Xander sighed. “And they always happen to me.” He looked up with hopeful eyes, only to choke as Graham quickly divested himself of his shirt. “Oh god,” he whispered.

“Shh. It’s okay. I like you, too.”

“You can’t!”

Graham frowned and grabbed one of Xander’s hands in his own. “Why not?”

“Because you look like that! And I look like this!”

Xander frantically gestured about his person with his free hand, now incredibly embarrassed by his apron and paper hat. And his hair, and his chewed fingernails, and the zit which he was sure was going to erupt in the center of his forehead at any moment. He just knew it was coming.

“I think you look adorable.”

Xander blushed spectacularly and dropped his eyes. “So I’m not the only one with the Mister Good Humor fantasy?”

Graham decided to go in for the kill, because whether or not the boy knew it, he was primed, and Graham was definitely ready. Who knew college had these kinds of perks? Why weren’t people lining up to get into UC-SunnyD? He could major in this guy’s smile.

“Uh oh. Looks like it’s soaking into my shorts. Hope it doesn’t stain.” He popped the button on his fly.

The next thing Xander knew, he was looking up at the roof of his truck, which was rusting rather badly, with a concerned yet bemused Graham hovering over him.

”Hey, are you okay? You fainted.”

Was his walking wet dream smirking at him?

“Can this day get any worse?,” Xander groaned.

Graham leaned over, slid shut the window and locked it, before falling to his knees and trapping Xander on the floor between his hands.

“Let’s see what we can do to make it better.”

The End

You have reached the end of "Pop Goes the Weasel". This story is complete.

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