"Want one?"

"If you're sure you don't mind."

"Nah. Would have been thrown out anyway."

William tried to smile. "Can't have that." Truthfully, his belly was tight and cramping with hunger, and he ignored the way his hands shook as he tried to fish out one french fry without touching the others, excruciatingly conscious that his hands were unclean.

"Gonna eat or play pick-up sticks?"

William felt himself blush as he took a french fry and ate it slowly. Bitter experience had taught him that as badly as he wanted to cram food into his mouth until the emptiness in his stomach went away, eating too fast would only mean that it would come back up, leaving him weak and ill with the sour taste of vomit in his mouth for hours.

Besides, sitting here with Xander was nice. Xander was nice. Someone his own age who didn't - treat him oddly, differently.

The heated air from the exhaust vent melted the snow around them and warmed William's fingers until they tingled. He didn't mind taking his time to eat if it meant that Xander would keep him company. "Are you sure you don't mind? It is your lunch..."

"I worked breakfast shift too. I had an egg muffin thing this morning."

William's stomach gave another alarming growl, and he bit his lip. Eggs sounded wonderful, and it'd been so long, or maybe it was only a week since he and Spike had gone to that little diner for breakfast, but he couldn't ask Xander for -

"You should come by tomorrow morning. They let me take whatever's under the warmer after the breakfast hours end," Xander said casually. "Coffee too."

William moaned before he could stop himself. It was so wrong, so pitiful and embarrassing. He felt tears prick at his eyes and that was even worse, and then Xander was pulling him against his warm, broad, solid chest - heedless of the grime that William knew covered his platinum blond hair and his pale skin - and letting him weep.

"I wish you'd let me do more."

Xander spoke so softly, William thought that surely he hadn't been meant to hear, but when he lifted his face, Xander's was down turned, serious, gentle, and so close - and oh, his lips were warm and salty still from the fries, sweet from his soda, and -

William turned his head away abruptly.

"Shit, Will, I'm sorry, I - "

William shook his head. "I - I haven't brushed my teeth." In weeks. He wished his heart wasn't pounding so hard against his ribs, knew Xander could feel it through the polyester polo shirt of his uniform, and wished it would all go away. The cold, the hunger, the grime - and the shame.

"That's okay, I - "

He pushed away from Xander, stumbled back away from the exhaust vent and into the snow; the cold enveloped him again immediately and completely as he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. "I have to go."

Xander's voice stopped him. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

William's stomach cramped around too few of the salt-greasy french fries, and too many. *Traitor.* He nodded, but hurried away.

With a heavy sigh, Xander crumpled the to-go bag, tossed it in the dumpster, and headed back into the restaurant.

"I'm such a fucking idiot," he muttered.

"Yeah, okay. You're also a fuckin' idiot who's back in here..." Faith checked the time clock. "Five minutes early, so nuh-uh. Get back out there, kid."

"Faith!" Xander made a grab for his time card, but she snatched it out of his grip, waving it out of his reach. "Nuh. You know the rules, Xan. Out back or in the break room till it's time."

"Or you could lecture me about the rules for five minutes, and then I can clock in."

"C'mon, don't you want to talk to your boy s'more?"

"He's not my boy... And besides, he's gone."

"Scared him away, huh? Not your fault. He's twitchy."

"He's not twitchy. Okay, maybe he's a little twitchy..."

"But Xander thinks he's dreamy," Buffy chimed in on her way to the storeroom. "And Xander wants to make with the smoochies."

"I do not... Okay, I do. I did, in fact. I kissed him, if you must know, and he ran away. Which is why I'm a fucking idiot. Can I please go back to the register now?"

Faith lifted Xander's hand by the wrist, and dropped his time card into his hand. "Knock yourself out."

"Thanks."

"Watch your mouth or I'll put you on clown duty." Faith leveled a finger at Xander.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

Buffy breezed past, her arms full of rainbow-colored clown suit, wig, floppy shoes, and even the big red nose. "Does this look like she's kidding?"

"Actually, no. That looks like I should get back to the register."

Back at the register, Xander went on autopilot, taking orders, taking money, making change, and distributing burgers, fries, and much-too-large drinks like the well-trained automaton he was. Meanwhile, his higher brain function was free to analyze The Will Situation.

He thought back to the first time he'd seen Will. It wasn't uncommon for college kids to stand in line literally counting pennies and comparing the results to the menu prices, mentally doing the tax percentage in a mumble of numbers, but William had seemed different. He'd kept his head down, dark roots in the bright bleached hair, and once he'd counted the change, he kept his fist closed tightly around it, sometimes touching the closed hand with the opposite fingers, as if to make sure it was all still there.

Xander hadn't been sure what to expect when Will finally reached him, but whatever it was, the soft English accent hadn't been part of it in any scenario. Two hamburgers. They were only a quarter each for some kind of anniversary special, and William had neatly counted out fifty cents plus tax in an assortment of pennies, nickels, and dimes. Fifty-seven cents exactly, and his hands had been shaking.

Then, the next time William came in, he'd been shaking harder, but that time, he'd ordered six cheeseburgers, a large fries, and a super soda, and had paid with a crisp twenty.

To add to the enigma, as the temperature dropped, William had started coming in earlier in the day and staying longer, back to ordering the cheapest thing on the menu and paying in small change. The pattern wasn't all that unusual for a street kid - as Xander had become certain William was - but it was unusual for a street kid to be penning poetry onto napkins as he sat.

The first time he noticed William writing, Xander's curiosity had become so strong that he had finally walked over and tried to introduce himself. Of course, that became the first in the ever-growing list of awkward encounters that left him feeling like a fucking idiot.

"Hi."

William had jumped. "Hello. I - I can move if you need this table for someone - " He'd hopped up, already gathering his pen and napkins before Xander could think to speak.

"What? No! It's okay. I just wanted to..." Xander's voice had faded out, and of all the fucking times for him not to have anything to say...

"It's all right, I'll go." The napkins and pen had disappeared neatly inside a thin jacket and William had jammed his hands in the pockets, head down and hurrying out the door before Xander could find his voice again.

"But you don't have to!"

He'd lived the next shift in terror that William really wouldn't come back, until Faith got fed up. A lot of things ended when Faith got fed up.

"His name's William," Faith had said, sweeping by on her way to the little glass-enclosed office. "Nice kid. Came all the way here from London."

"How'd you know?"

"Duh," Faith had said, hitting the back of his head just hard enough to flip off the stupid baseball cap he wore with his uniform. "I asked."

Cue the second time Xander felt like an idiot because of William.

But when William had come back the next day, things had gone a bit better.

Looking up from his register to see William standing there, Xander's heart had flooded with relief. William ordered the burger on their dollar menu. Xander took the dollar plus tax, then placed the burger on the tray, along with a small order of fries. William had looked down at the tray and then looked up at Xander with a frown.

"Pardon me, I didn't..."

"William, right?"

"Yes, but..."

"I think it's cool," Xander had said.

"Excuse me?"

"That you write. I think that's cool."

"I, um, I..."

"Don't worry, I don't want to read it or anything."

"You...?"

"I mean, I would want to read it, if you wanted me to. I mean, I'm interested and everything... uh, in your poetry, that is. I'm, uh, I'm interested in what you write, but I wouldn't expect you to let me read it. Unless, you know, you wanted me to, which would be cool... And, um, I should get back to the register now..."

Okay, so it hadn't gone a lot better, just a bit. But then, as he stood back behind the register, Xander had looked over at William and William had given him a smile. A small smile, sure, but the slight movement had lit up William's face and sent a tingle all the way to Xander's toes. So yeah, the next day had been better.

And it'd kept getting better after that until one day, Xander was just leaving for his lunch break and asked William to join him. And said the magic words. "They'd just throw it out if we didn't eat it. Want to meet me out back?"

William had, and they sat beneath the exhaust vent of the fast food restaurant. Although the weather was just beginning to turn cold, it was still too early for snow, and so it wasn't long before Xander was fanning himself with a folded french fry box. William had stayed bundled up in his too-thin jacket, and his hands had still shaken as they clasped around his drink…

"Xan! Hey, Xander, wanna join us here in reality?" Xander started, looked behind him, and focused in on Faith. "Your shift's almost over. B's taking the register and I need you to go wipe down the tables before you take off."

Xander went to the back and grabbed the rags and the cleaning spray. He started wiping down empty tables, but his mind was still on William. William, who was always shaking, and Xander didn't know if it was from nerves or cold or hunger or something else.

Xander clocked out, grabbed his coat, and started walking back to his apartment. Home sweet home, and his own Eighteenth birthday present to himself along with the job. He was on his second twelve month lease there too without a single late payment - go him!

He wondered where William went when he left the fast food restaurant. Did he have another place to hang out? Was he at a shelter? Was he staying warm? Was he lonely? He wished he could ask, but knew it was too soon. Just like the kiss had been.

Xander made his way up the four flights of dark and creaky stairs and down the dim and narrow hallway that smelled like cigarette smoke and cat urine, listened to the jarring sounds of a sitcom laugh track on his neighbor's TV as he opened the three deadbolts on his apartment door and slipped safely inside.

Home, sweet home.

And he could still hear the sitcom laugh track, but he'd gotten used to shutting that kind of thing out. Mental space. That's what the apartment was.

He shuffled out of his coat and hung it over the closet door that wouldn't stay closed. He could fix it; it'd needed fixing since before he moved in, but it'd gotten him a discount in rent and he was feeling almost...sentimental about it now.

Either that, or he figured his landlord would raise the rent once it was fixed. One of the two, depending on his mood.

He toed his shoes off in the entry way, leaving them next to the flip-flops and his lone pair of work boots, and padded into the kitchen, automatically skirting the place where the linoleum had warped. He grabbed the mostly empty milk carton from the refrigerator and leaned back against the (fashionable avocado) counter top to drain it in three long gulps, then rested his head back against the cabinets.

*Empty* he reminded himself, and dropped the carton into the garbage. Then he underlined the word "milk" on his shopping list three times, just to be sure he bought it, or his Cocoa Puffs would be in for a nasty surprise the next morning. Because while instant coffee over chocolate cereal wasn't in the same realm of "bad" as orange juice over chocolate cereal, it was an experience he hoped not to repeat again anytime soon.

He opened the fridge again and stared, waiting for the smattering of condiments to magically transform themselves into a mouthwatering dinner. He gave up the fantasy a minute later and turned to the cupboard, pulling out his last can of soup, emptying it into a pot, and setting it on the stove to heat.

He couldn't even believe he was thinking it, but he wished he could afford more vegetables. He was the freakin' poster child for the unbalanced diet. But then again, he'd learned at work that the USDA had recently classified the frozen french fry as a fresh vegetable, so maybe he was doing all right after all.

When the soup was warm, he picked up a spoon and ate it out of the pot, then tossed both pot and spoon into the sink on top of the other dishes that were competing to see which one could grow the most diverse sampling of mold cultures. *Fuck, I need to clean,* Xander thought, as he stripped off his uniform on his way to the bathroom. He emptied his bladder and then stepped into the shower.

Water pressure. At least he'd managed to install a new showerhead to give himself good water pressure. Didn't mean the water was always hot or even lukewarm, but at least he had a good spray. Seven minutes later, satisfied that he at least smelled less like grease than when he'd gotten in, Xander stepped out of the shower just before lukewarm transitioned to ice cold.

He toweled off and threw on a pair of sweatpants. He started for the kitchen, paused, and then added a pair of socks, two tee shirts, and a ragged sweatshirt - because, let's face it, turning on the heat cost more money than he had to spare in his checking account - before heading over to tackle the dishes. Yeah, the place had its flaws, but it was his, really his, and damned if he wasn't going to take care of his home.