They live in a one Starbucks town, yes, but it still takes Xander nearly two hours to walk to Cordy’s house. He’s not speed walking, granted, or even walking very fast at all. Not like he would have been if, say, there’d been a vampire on his heels. Or, given that it’s still light out, a demon who could do daytime evil-type things. But still. It’s a long way.

And as he stands at the foot of Cordy’s driveway, he sighs because okay, wow. He still has a long way to go. The Chase family, as far as he can tell, has just about the longest driveway that ever drivewayed. It winds up to the house like a snake, through a grove of trees—palms, because it’s southern California—and if he squints, he’s pretty sure that he can see a bridge in the distance. Which makes sense, because when he listens really hard, he can hear water. A babbling brook. Something which requires a bridge.

The brain, he thinks, boggles, because he, Alexander Harris, is dating a girl who has a bridge as part of her driveway. Or, better make that: he hopes he’s still dating a girl who has a bridge as part of her driveway.

It’s all Aura’s fault, really. All of her gushing the day before about her man, college guy that he is, and how for their six month anniversary, he not only took her out to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in Sunnydale, but also bought her a necklace. With a real diamond that you could totally see if you squinted and got it in just the right light.

And then Harmony made mention of her frat boy and the dozen roses that he’d sent her after the pledge dance two weekends before. And, okay, maybe Xander can blame it all on Harmony, because she’s the one—and he’ll never forgive her for this—who turned to Cordelia and said, "Can Xander even afford a dozen roses, Cordy? And where does he take you out to dinner? The Burger Hut?"

He wasn’t sitting with Cordy at the time—because still, after everything, she made it a rule to only sit with him at lunch two days a week, for fear people might think she was more attached to him than she actually was—but he saw her finger her neck where the locket should have been. He didn’t hear her answer, though, because Buffy poked him in the arm and told him that he was staring. Again.

That it was becoming a habit.

And okay, it was, but if he hadn’t been staring, he wouldn’t have known that Cordelia didn’t look over at him for the rest of the lunch hour, which, no matter how unattached she claimed to be, just wasn’t normal. And then later, when they met at her locker after school, she was way too cheery. Too perky, and for a cheerleader, that was saying something. She bounced around him and smiled at him and kissed his cheek, but she never quite met his eyes—and a day later, he reminds himself, still hasn’t—and that was what prompted him to start questioning again.

Questioning why she was with him, even though she’d made her intentions perfectly clear three weeks before. He had questions in his head suddenly, questions that needed answers, and when he looked at her, at her smile that seemed even less real than it normally did, he was afraid he knew what those answers would be.

It’s Buffy’s fault, too, because when he told her about the overheard conversation while they were on patrol that night, she said, "If a girl’s really into a guy, Xander, she doesn’t need big, grand gestures. I mean, I’m not saying that they aren’t nice, but I, personally, prefer something from the heart."

A small, sad frown flickered across her face as she spoke—an Angel memory, Xander had no doubt, but she continued, "And, you know, no one needs gifts. That’s why they’re called gifts. Because they’re unexpected."

"I know." He sighed. "I just don’t want her to decide that she wants someone who can give her those sorts of things. And this is Cordelia we’re talking about."

Buffy laughed. "Cordelia probably needs gifts less than any of the rest of us do," she said, but then: "Cordelia knows you, Xander. She knows you aren’t Aura’s man, or Harmony’s frat boy, and she’s publicly declared she wants to be with you. That says more than a box of chocolates right there—and just between you and me? I would give just about anything to be able to go back in time and hear her call Harmony a sheep."

He laughed, because yeah, that had been great. A sheep.

"So something from the heart? Something simple would be okay?"

Buffy looked down at the flowers twisted up around the graves they passed, petals closed and gray looking in the darkness as she said, "If you feel the need to give her something… Girls like other flowers, too, you know. They don’t have to be roses."

She smiled at him and linked her arm through his as they made their way between the gravestones. "She’s lucky to have you, Xand. She knows that she’s lucky to have you."

And he’s lucky to have her.

So, here he is. Standing at the foot of the Chase’s driveway, purple iris in cellophane in hand. It hasn’t wilted yet, and for that he’s grateful, but it’s petals are looking a little more delicate around the edges than they were when he picked it out, and his palm is sweaty around the plastic.

It isn’t too late to turn back, his brain tells him again, but Buffy’s words echo in his head—lucky to have you—and maybe he’s an idiot. Maybe he should just let her pull away from him, break up with him again, and save them both a whole lot of heartbreak later, when it ends. Because he’s dating Cordelia Chase—or rather she’s dating him—and it will eventually end. But he doesn’t want that. He just wants her. So he starts forward, stepping from cement onto pavement, and when he passes through the open halves of the wrought iron gate, it’s like he’s passed into the land of no return. He can’t go back again.

There are beds of flowers edging the driveway and as he looks at them, he thinks that they’re all more vibrant than the one he picked out. More exotic looking. And it was a stupid idea to come, stupid stupid. He’s thinking so hard about how stupid it is that he doesn’t even notice when he crosses the bridge and makes it to within ten paces of Cordy’s front door.

He doesn’t notice until he hears the door open and sees Cordy step out onto the porch. She’s wearing her school clothes still, and her arms are crossed over her chest, like she’s cold. But it’s Sunnydale, and no matter that it’s March, it’s not cold.

He stops where he is and if he wasn’t holding her flower, he’d stuff his hands in his pockets, rock back on his heels, and say something like, "This is awkward." But he doesn’t, because she speaks first.

"Xander, what are you— I saw you walking up the driveway and— What are you doing here?" She looks at him as she speaks, and for the first time since the lunch conversation the day before, their eyes meet. She’s looking confused. Like she doesn’t know why he’s here, and duh. She doesn’t know why, because that’s what she just asked him.

"A guy can’t come see his girl?" he asks. That is, if she’s still his girl. Today, or next week, or tomorrow even.

"Of course you can," she says. "I just never thought you’d— I’m not seeing your father’s car. You didn’t walk here, did you?"

"I needed the exercise." He walks forward, until he’s standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch. The porch has columns, he sees. Like those big houses down south, those plantation homes. He can see Cordelia as Scarlett O’Hara, but he knows he’s no Rhett Butler.

"I just." He swallows. "I wanted to see you. You seemed a little down yesterday. And today. And I wanted to bring you this." With his luck, he thinks as he holds the flower out, it will choose that moment to wilt. But it doesn’t. The plastic just crinkles. "I know it’s not a dozen roses, or a necklace, but I—"

He stops talking when Cordelia’s fingers close over his own. She’s moved closer, he didn’t see her move closer, but she’s right there, holding onto his hand, and the flower. She’s not smiling at him, though. Her eyes are shadowed, closed off like they were on Valentines Day, right before she broke up with him. And this is it. He knows this is it.

"Xander," she starts.

"I just wanted to—" he says quickly, interrupting, because he’s not ready for it to be over between them yet. "I wanted to give you something. Because— Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to tell you that I’m lucky to have you. And that I know that."

She’s silent for a moment, studying him with those unreadable eyes, and then all of a sudden she blinks, and her lips start to curve upwards. Her eyes open up to him, and if he didn’t know better—

"Damn right you are," she says, and then her smile grows. She pauses, just for a moment, and suddenly she’s his Cordy again. The one who stood up to Harmony three weeks before, the one who will always meet his gaze, the one who doesn’t look as if the next words out of her mouth are going to be ‘we’re over.’ This is his Cordy.

"Thank you, Xander, this was very sweet. Not as sweet as that necklace in that little shop downtown, of course—you remember the one? But very sweet none the less."

He nods his head, because that was a proper Cordy thank you. The only thing that would fully assuage his fears as to the stability of their relationship would be a kiss, and that comes next, with no urging from him.

"I should get going," he says when they finally part. He notices that the sky is a little dimmer; it was bright when their kiss started, he was sure. "Want to get home before dark and all."

She nods, but then she brightens suddenly. "I’ll give you a ride. No need for you to walk all the way back home, when we could… be in a car. Besides, it’s the least I can do. As a thank you." And she wiggles her eyebrows slightly, so that he’ll be sure not to miss her entendre. Not that he would, of course, because cars and closets… they seem to have an affinity for those.

"Okay," he says.

And he’ll have to thank Buffy later, he thinks. Because yes, apparently simple can be good.