Title: Trigamy: Ultimate Edition
Pairings: Xander Harris/F/F/F, Satsu/F
Disclaimer: With a myriad of writers, artists, and editors, actual rights are a nightmare when you go near a comic book universe. Suffice it to say that Marvel Entertainment LLC owns all of the property printed in their comics, along with the television and movie adaptations of said same property. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel: the Series, and all the characters associated with both belong to Fran and Kaz Kuzui. Not mine, don't sue, and so forth and so on.
Summary: Xander had a bit too much to drink last night and wakes up a good deal less single than he started…
Part Note: While my previous stories have been loosely divided into story arcs, this one will formally have 'parts' that separate sections of related chapters. Each chapter will have a "Joe's Note" with relevant information. Each part will have a 'Part Note' like this that likewise contains relevant information. As for relevant information for this part? Um… I can't think of much. Thanks for reading. Make sure you watch the 'Joe's Note' for each chapter for word of changes from the old version(s) so that if you want to try your luck at skimming, you'll still know what's going on. But I wouldn't recommend skimming. And not just because it's my story and I'm proud of it.
Joe's Note: According to Ernest Hemingway, the key to successful writing is to write drunk and then edit sober. The key phrase there being to edit sober. Or edit whatsoever. I forgot to do that last time I posted this story. Honestly, when I sit down and reread this, I'm a bit surprised nobody ever called me out on how bad parts of this were when it came to contradicting itself. Oh well. My benefit, I suppose. Anyways, thanks again for being back for this round and let's see if we can't do things a bit better - and more interestingly - this time around.
As consciousness returned to him in a rush of dull aches and throbbing pains, Xander Harris knew before he even opened his eye that the last thing he wanted to do was… well, open his eye. It was the same feeling that he'd had on the first day of high school so many years ago, upon waking on the day after he'd been forced to stake Jesse to save Cordelia - and who knew how many others - from suffering the same fate, on the day of his aborted wedding to Anya, and just before sliding out from under Anya on the day they marched into Sunnydale High School to do battle with The First. It was an undefinable but now unmistakeable feeling that once he opened his eyes - or technically just 'eye' now, thanks to Caleb the crazy evil preacher man - nothing would ever be the same.
So instead of trying to face the outside world, Xander kept his eye firmly shut, trying - and generally failing - to ignore the throbbing in his head. For a brief moment, he found himself wondering where exactly he was. Which was a good question, he figured, since he could feel that he was in a bed but had never gotten around to checking into his own hotel between when he arrived in Las Vegas and when he went out to explore. Not that he'd be irresponsible enough to reach Sin City and just take off into the wild neon yonder. He and his traveling companion had actually gone to what was supposed to be their temporary home away from home, only to have the woman at the front desk inform them in a British accent about as real as Madonna's that 3:27 PM was in fact not close enough to the advertised 4:00 PM check-in time to be acceptable, and that he would have to wait for another thirty-three minutes before they'd be ready to process his reservation.
There'd been some arguing at that point but Xander, not wanting to end up stuck in a room next to the floor's ice machine or something equally loud and sleep-disrupting, had pulled his traveling companion-slash-abductor away from the front desk and back out the doors. Denied rooms - at least for the moment - and neither of them a fan of inactivity, the pair had struggled to come up with something to do for at least a half an hour, if not more.
The solution to their problem had been obvious as soon as they'd walked out the door: exploration. While they were in one of the smaller hotels, there were numerous massive 'hotel and casino' complexes that were also home to shows to be seen, restaurants to try, shops to… shop in, a few roller coasters and other thrill rides for the braver folks… Xander even vaguely remembered hearing something about one hotel having an aquarium with sharks, although he couldn't remember which for the life of him. All sorts of exciting things to see and do and that was before they even began ducking into the actual standalone buildings that housed stores and attractions of their own. So they'd grabbed their wallets, armed themselves with what little they thought they could sneak through security, and set off in search of fun or - at the very least - a way to kill half an hour.
From there? As best he could remember, there'd been some gambling, some showgirls, a lot of drinking, and now he was waking up… somewhere. And while he had a throbbing headache, it was definitely far smaller than it should have been considering how much he'd drunk - or remembered drinking - the night before. Note to self: send Willow a present for the anti-hangover potion, even if it hadn't worked perfectly. And one for Faith, too, for stealing said potion out of the top drawer of her dresser.
Turning his head slightly to one side, Xander cracked his remaining eye open and peered over at the alarm clock. 9:42. And considering there was sunlight filtering in through the closed curtains, Xander was pretty sure it was 9:42 AM and not 9:42 PM. Idly, he wondered if he'd still be charged for that hotel room he'd never checked into. Did it really matter, though? He wasn't paying for the hotel either way. The Council was financing his forced vacation. So a little annoyed part of him reveled in the waste of money… before he remembered that while the current Council had recovered most of its predecessor's assets and found a few wealthy donors to supplement that, they weren't Tony Stark rich or anything and he started feeling guilty again.
Then the little devil on his shoulder started poking him with his tiny pitchfork to get his attention and Xander wondered… should he? After all, they were the ones who'd sent him on this entirely unwanted - even if it was to somewhere cool - vacation of his. 'You're working too hard, Xander.' 'You need a life outside of the school, Xander.' 'We're worried you're going to show up on Dateline if you keep hanging around nothing but teenage girls, Xander.' So one afternoon he'd headed over to Cleveland Hopkins to 'pick up several new students arriving at the airport', only to have his companion for the ride wait until they were parked before jabbing him with one of the darts they usually reserved for the local weres. He'd woken up next to her in a first class seat aboard a rumbling jet as it descended into Las Vegas. How she'd managed to wrestle his body past the TSA was probably a story in itself, but he'd been too annoyed to ask at the time. And now he was waking up in a strange hotel room after a night he could barely remember.
Suddenly, Xander realized that he didn't actually need to recall the events of the previous evening before to know some of what he'd done. While it was a sensation he hadn't had the pleasure of enjoying since the fall of Sunnydale, he did remember what it felt like to have another warm body in his bed. And hey, if the body was warm, it meant he was doing better than Buffy when it came to the romance department. Wow, that was catty, he mused. Maybe the others were right about him spending too much time around nothing but teenage girls…
The mystery woman let out a soft groan before rolling over out of his blind spot and throwing an arm across his body, snuggling in against him. Xander blinked, peering curiously at the blonde head resting on his chest, when the impossible happened and the process repeated itself from the other side. Pinned on his back by two softly snoring women, Xander looked down and wondered exactly what the hell he'd gotten up to the night before. Or dare he say… into?
Lifting the sheet up a little provided at least something in the way of answers. Under the covers lay a hot naked blonde and her hot naked brunette friend, with a not-so-hot naked Xander in the middle. But hey! Even as a scarred pirate man, he still had it! He took another peek. Oh yeah, he still had it. Giggity giggity, giggity goo. Alright.
Xander let the sheet drop back to lie atop them as he went back to staring at the two heads resting on his chest. The hot naked blonde was pale, albeit not quite as pale as him or one of his Slayers, and looked to be a bit younger than her companion. They made quite the contrast, actually, with the older girl's tanned skin and black hair, and a slightly severe look to her features that didn't fade completely even when she was asleep. It took him a minute to realize why she evoked a sense of familiarity; she vaguely reminded him of General Buffy from their final days in Sunnydale, although thankfully without the skeletal figure that would make a model want to run off to go purge some more. He could feel a goodly-sized pair of breasts pressing against his side and his scattered memories of the night before included some of a very nice, plump ass. She was just as bossy as General Buffy, though, not that he'd minded at the time.
His eyes wandered around the room, wondering exactly where he was and how to get out of there. And he needed to find his clothes some time before he attempted to solve the latter question, obviously. Suddenly, his gaze locked onto the red and black jumpsuit thrown over the back of the desk chair, a compound bow and purple quiver of arrows sitting on the floor beside it. There was also a one-shouldered purple top hanging half-off the top of the desk, looking as if gravity might win out at any moment and send it plunging to the floor. More memories surfaced and Xander suddenly remembered the brunette dressed in that top and matching pants, using the bow to put an arrow through a vampire's heart at impressive distance. And the blonde displaying some bizarre growth power and actually stepping on a chaos demon. Oh snap. Had he gotten tag-teamed by superheroines? Not that he recognized either of them, but still, C or D-list superheroines were still superheroines.
Trapped between the two lovely young ladies, Xander debated whether he should flee before they woke up or not. The last thing he wanted was to find out how good the brunette was with that bow of hers, or have the blonde get mad because he took advantage of her while she was drunk and step on him as payback. Although technically he'd been drunk too and they could have been the ones taking advantage of him. Still… supergirls. And despite Faith and Dawn's empty platitudes to the contrary, he was fully aware - and accepting - of the fact that he was the group's Token Average Guy. Did he really want to risk sticking around to try and talk to them, no matter how hot they were? Because on one hand, if they woke up happy about the night before? There was the potential for an encore, which he'd actually be able to remember because he wasn't drunk anymore. On the other hand, if they woke up mad at him? His not-so-super self was in serious trouble. Hell, not even a Slayer would be able to stand up to being stomped on by a size hundred foot…
Letting his head flop back against the pillow, Xander stared up at the ceiling. And blinked. And then he blinked again. There was a naked woman clinging to the ceiling just out of reach of the fan's blades, her red hair flowing down beneath her head like a comet's tail. This was starting to get ridiculous. Had he nailed Spider-Man's daughter or niece or something too? What was next, a 'Black Kitten' popping out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and nothing more after taking a shower?
His gaze shot over as something moved in the corner of his vision, but luckily the bathroom door remained immobile. He let out a sigh of relief and gave the woman on the ceiling another look before returning his attention to the biggest problem. Mainly, the two women pinning him to the bed. Plans A, B, C, and D all failed to extricate him from their joint grasp and he was preparing to implement Plan E when something shiny caught his attention. There was a simple silver ring around the ring finger of his left hand. His index finger was home to a similar ring made of gold, while his middle was occupied by a platinum band. When the hell had he turned into Mister T? 'I pity da foo who wakes up and can't remember his hot superheroine foursome!' Wait. Mister T wore all gold jewelry so the comparison didn't quite work. Still. What in the world?
After a few seconds of staring at his new bling, Xander returned his attention to the problem at hand that wasn't on his hand, slowly wiggling his way out of the brunette's almost possessive grasp before gently rolling the blonde over him so he was on the outside and the two mystery women were left together in the middle of the bed. Almost immediately, the brunette shifted onto her back and the blonde snuggled in against her with her head resting on the brunette's chest, making Xander raise an eyebrow. Their actions spoke of a certain degree of familiarity. Did they go around doing this a lot? Then again, even if they were lovers… how did that explain the rings on his fingers?
Limping over towards the desk in hopes that his clothes were among those scattered on and around it, Xander's eye swept back and forth as he cataloged a number of useless things. Tiny coffee pot, tiny packet of coffee for said coffee pot, the requisite overpriced bottles of water, a lamp, a blue network cable for the laptop that was still in his car somewhere that wasn't here, his iPhone, two iPhones that weren't his, and… three very tacky-looking bouquets of roses? Sitting neatly in a row behind three separate, very official-looking pieces of paper? Xander gulped. He had a bad feeling about this.
And so, in true Scooby fashion, he opted to indulge in the fine art of avoidance. Picking up his iPhone, Xander pulled up his contacts and poked his way down the alphabetical list until he found the Slayer he was looking for. Two pokes later, the screen switched to show her name, photo, and a variety of other buttons along with one very important word: 'calling…'.
'Stop calling, stop calling, I don't wanna think anymore. I left my head and my heart on the dance floor. Stop calling, stop calling, I don't wanna talk anymore. I left my head and my heart on the dance floor…'
Sighing, Xander pulled the phone away from his head and was about to hit the End Call button when her ringback tone looped and a faint but identifiable ringtone likewise restarted from… the other side of the wall? Crossing the room, Xander pressed his ear to the wall for confirmation. While her phone's ringbacks served as a technological mood ring, varying to match her current state of mind or activity - Lady GaGa was her 'cruising the strip' ringback, evidently - almost everyone at the school had the same damnable VeggieTales song set as the ringtone for when he called and even with a wall in the way, he could clearly recognize the familiar tune of 'The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything'. So unless someone had stolen her cell phone and just so happened to have ended up in the room next door? He'd apparently found his missing Slayer.
Fabric brushing against his feet made Xander look down and he perked up. He'd also found his missing pants.
Ending the call, Xander scooped up his boxers and pants, tugging them on before sliding his phone into the pocket of his pants and wandering back over to the desk. With two problems solved, he should probably address the largest remaining one, he reckoned: the flowers and paperwork. But since he could stall more… he did. Or at least he tried to. He'd left his computer on in his office, which meant all his incoming mail was being filtered into subfolders… and someone had tinkered with the Exchange server to lock his phone out of several 'business'-related ones. Grr.
He read and deleted a few apologetic emails from lesser members of the conspiracy, stared at his empty inbox for a moment, and then sighed. Okay. No more stalling. Because while part of him was afraid to look, another part of him realized that if they woke up and he didn't even know their names, he'd be in for an even more severe ass-kicking than he already was. Unless he ran now, which he knew he wasn't going to do. He wasn't Parker the Wonder Douche. So, after taking a deep breath, he closed the remaining distance between him and the desk and scooped up all three pieces of paper.
Alexander Lavelle Harris and Katherine Beatrice Bishop
Alexander Lavelle Harris and Cassandra Eleanor Lang.
Alexander Lavelle Harris and Rebekah Julia Drew.
Huh. Well, he knew from previous visits that Utah was a nice place to live this time of year…