Backfire - Spander Files

contemplating the logistics of getting her alone in his room for a couple hours
without being missed at the party.
Angel was held up in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on an alfredo sauce
for the linguini, when Buffy came in, almost an hour late.
“There you are,” Xander accused. “Thought you’d changed your mind.”
“Decided to do a quick patrol before I came. Ran into a overly excited fleg-,” she
saw Oz, “…flag-waver. He got all patriotic in my face. I had to take him down.”
“Patrolling for patriots?” Oz quipped. “You’ve got an odd sense of duty. Are you
Canadian?”
Buffy grinned sheepishly and shoved a pile of brightly colored packages at Xander.
“Ohh! More booty.” Xander arranged the newest gifts among the others under the
rather modest looking tree that he and Angel had procured and decorated with plain
red plastic ball ornaments (the ones that were on sale at Wal-Mart).
By the time dinner was served, the tension in the room was like molasses. No one
knew where to tread for fear of being sucked down further into the muck. They
couldn’t talk about slayage, what with Oz in the room. Nobody wanted to talk about
school, especially since Xander had failed his science class and was a bit depressed
about repeating it next semester. Willow and Cordelia kept giving each other
scornful looks, neither believing that they were at the same social function with the
other. Giles brought one of Angel’s books to the table and was completely
engrossed in its contents, irking Ms Calendar, and having no clue about the
awkwardness at the dining table.
And Buffy, well, she had been staring at Angel and Xander since Angel had
emerged from the kitchen, clearly looking for some kind of sign that they were
going to do something inappropriate. Xander prayed that they wouldn’t be pulled
together any time in next few hours, not that he ever had any control of it in the
past, but one could only hope.
Of course, this was the Hellmouth and one had to very careful what one wished for.