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SO. I went for a run this morning - unintentionally - as the mosquitoes were swarming me, and I was afeared of them. Turns out that running and slapping at your legs on a sharp incline causes your cell phone to fall out of your cell-pocket in your running shorts without you noticing. I'm about to leave on a trip, so I'm packing, and that would have sucked to have lost my phone, right? Except I didn't KNOW I had lost my phone. Wait, it gets more interesting than a missing cell phone I ASSURE YOU.

I get a call, ID says my last name, cell. (Mr. S's phone is one number off.) I answer, "Hey, Baby." Someone else's voice answers, "Uh, hi, the kids found a cell phone in front of our house, and this was the 'home' number?" Oh my gosh, I say, I'll come right over, I say, where to, I ask. He tells me. (I have it in my head that it's some kind of Mr. Mom from his statement.)

I rush over (it's about five blocks up from my house, whew) and race up the door (I'm still in my running clothes, probably stinking of exercise, GAH) and MR. HOT ASS TEENAGER ANSWERS THE DOOR SEMI-NAKED.

I need a moment....

Okay. So maybe he's about 17 or 18? He's in swim trunks. And nothing else. And he is CHISELED CHEST AND BELLEH BOY. Like, he has that hot freaking muscle that snakes over the hip bone (which means that's how low his trunks were, holy god.) YES I WAS STARING AT HIM. But I was staring at him in a BECOMING MANNER. (right.) Oh, and he's GLISTENING with moisture because he just got out of the pool. *imagines Fast Times at Ridgemont High but with his hot ass*

So, his hair is all spikey and black and wet, and he has a runnel of water on his chest - bare and perfect, I mentioned that, right? - and he's square-jawed and light-eyed and very very tall and lean and fit and smiling and he totally wanted to throw my hot mom-ass against the wall and take me and make me feel young and desirable again. (SHUT UP WHY WOULD YOU RUIN THIS FOR ME?)

He's a NANNY. And a hot ass. I have found the will to carry on with life yet again. BLESS YOU, KARMIC FORCES OF THE UNIVERSE!


And now I have to do laundry and fold little girl panties and scrub my son's shorts and I can DAY DREAM WHILE DOING IT, HURRAH.

I would totally be smoking right now if I did. (And I'm leaving in a few hours to see southerbangel and marenfic for the weekend, WHOO HOO! \o/

*claps in rhythm*
Happy happy birthday!
On this your special day!
Happy happy birthday,
that's all I'm here to say (HEY!)
Happy happy birthday!
Happy happy birthday!
From Sto-ho-ney to you (HEY!)

I love you, Kitten!! Have an excellent birthday!!


( 73 comments — Leave a comment )
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:31 pm (UTC)
LOL. Hot damn, baby. Your description totally beats the one of the guy who just came to my door to talk about aerating our lawn. It's so cold here today that he's in a coat and gloves and hat and if he's got perfect abs, I will never know about them. *sigh* (And I had to go to the door in my jammies -- at least I've brushed my teeth and hair already.)
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:33 pm (UTC)
SAL HE WAS SHOCKINGLY HOT. Like, "this person is real, standing before me. Ungh."

I like to think that the sweat circle between my breasts from my run turned him on. (Shhhh. Let me have this.) Heee!
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Jun. 7th, 2007 03:35 pm (UTC)
Good God.
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:44 pm (UTC)
It took all my power of concentration to not say that to his beautiful chest face.
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:36 pm (UTC)
omg. that is so hilarious! and imagine that he lives so near you :) you can jog by that house every day (or so) and 'accidentally' lose your phone!

Jun. 7th, 2007 03:45 pm (UTC)
Ha, I'm trying not to think about how I *do* job by every day, and worrying that I pulled my britches out of my butt or blew my nose or something, hahahahahahaha!
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Jun. 7th, 2007 03:41 pm (UTC)
OMG this is a totally awesome story! I am very entertained by it! :D
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:46 pm (UTC)
And it really happened!! I swear, I am going to relive (and embellish) this incident for MONTHS TO COME. Heeeeee!

Jun. 7th, 2007 03:43 pm (UTC)
Best thing I've read all day.
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:46 pm (UTC)
Oh, Camisha, it was the best thing to HAPPEN all day! *eyes cat box* Oh, to live in fantasy world... :D
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:44 pm (UTC)
Thank you, love!

And eeee. I want pictures of the hotass male nanny because he sounds YUMMEH!
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:47 pm (UTC)

Man, *I* want pictures of hotass male nanny of nearly nakedness beyond my mental picture! then I can photoshop his face onto a centaur Heeeeeeee!
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Jun. 7th, 2007 03:54 pm (UTC)
You totally need a nanny to do that scrubbing and ironing for you ...
Jun. 7th, 2007 03:58 pm (UTC)
YOU ARE SO RIGHT. A clothing-optional nanny. Mmmmm. Wait, that might be too much nudity, the folding and scrubbing? I need a "reach for high things while standing too close to me" nude nanny. :D
Jun. 7th, 2007 04:06 pm (UTC)
Jun. 7th, 2007 04:08 pm (UTC)
Hot naked wet glistening manny. AND WHAT IF THERE WAS A FICATHON. With you/who you think is hawt and bonable? Moosesal is thiiiiiiis close to running one. I WOULD PARTICIPATE. Stoney/Manny fic yes please. (heeee!)
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Jun. 7th, 2007 04:56 pm (UTC)
I was definitely on the "loving it" column, too! :D
Jun. 7th, 2007 04:31 pm (UTC)
This post gets my stamp of approval.

Have a wonderful trip! =)
Jun. 7th, 2007 04:57 pm (UTC)
HEEEEEEEEE! *is validated*

Thank you!! (Let's hope Lee doesn't screw things up, OMG. Hahahaha, I'm kidding, Lee!)
Jun. 7th, 2007 04:43 pm (UTC)
I love that you have the ability to crack me up and make me all hot and bothered at the same time with the mere description of your day.

Alas, I have no hotness around me. Only 13 year old stinky boys and hormonal 13 year old girls. Ew.
Jun. 7th, 2007 04:58 pm (UTC)
Hahahaha. And you know, I'm usually SO GROSSED OUT by the thought of female teachers boinking their students - they're always 13, what the HELL???

And then Mr. Almost Old Enough To Vote answers and I'm all panty dropping. HAHAHA.
Jun. 7th, 2007 05:27 pm (UTC)
Jun. 7th, 2007 05:32 pm (UTC)
Is it wrong that I'm humping my computer screen because of your icon??

Oh, so I bought (on a whim) a hippy/loose top from Old Navy to wear to your place and HOLY SHIT I LOOK HORRID. So I'm all stressed about having lame Mom clothes so don't be all super cute and dressy, 'k? (Also, I packed your heels, so they're coming home!)
Jun. 7th, 2007 05:37 pm (UTC)
Damn. *takes a little imagination vacation from work*
Jun. 7th, 2007 05:42 pm (UTC)

O_O Niiiiice.
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Jun. 7th, 2007 05:48 pm (UTC)
Can I have your running route while you are away?
Because I am so dropping everything re-claimable and praying really hard that ChippenNanny is on patrol.

Hnnngh, your description of Mr. Hottass is gonna keep me smiling and daydreaming all day. Thank ya muchly. :)

Have a fabulous trip, hon! :D
Jun. 7th, 2007 06:02 pm (UTC)
If that ain't motivation to keep up with a work out regime, then I don't know what is! Rawr.


Thanks!! Have a good weekend yourself!
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Jun. 7th, 2007 07:21 pm (UTC)

There should be a shirtless glistening hot boy nanny sexathon ficathon starting right...NOWgogogogo!
Jun. 7th, 2007 07:39 pm (UTC)
I MEAN SERIOUSLY. J, I'm trying to convince Sal to host it (except it would be a Mary Sue ficathon, wheeee!)

I'm okay with ALL hot nanny/nude/glistening fic options, let me state for the record. :D
Jun. 7th, 2007 07:34 pm (UTC)
I'm salivating vicariously through you right now....GUH!

I used to have this totally HAWT ASS Terminix guy...oh man. He was was thin and FIIIIINE (not sure about the abs due to the "uniform" shirt). But oh man, I really looked forward to pest control lol.
Jun. 11th, 2007 11:24 pm (UTC)
I'm late, I'm late.... But nonetheless! For those about to perv on service men, I salute you! [AC/DC rework]

Mmmmm. I'll keep you posted whether or not there's a ficathon happening for you to write us all your Copykween/Terminix Man fic!!
Jun. 7th, 2007 09:16 pm (UTC)
Have the bestest time! *hugs*
Jun. 11th, 2007 11:24 pm (UTC)
I did!! *hugs you*
Jun. 7th, 2007 10:19 pm (UTC)
You win at life. Have a great weekend!
Jun. 7th, 2007 10:21 pm (UTC)
I had a similar experience when I went to report something to the police once. My friend talked me into going (I finally agreed when she said she'd come too) and it turned out my report got taken by a SMOKIN' HOT cop. My friend's jaw hit the floor and we laughed like hyenas about it later and she said, "Only you would get a report like that taken by one of the best looking men in the universe." I decided to think it was a kind of karmic retribution for the experience that took me there to the station in the first place and thus I absolutely deserved the experience :-).

Though I will say it's hard to tell a story when you're biting a knuckle to keep from moaning aloud in lust.
Jun. 11th, 2007 11:26 pm (UTC)
Mmmmmm, hot cop. The only way a hot cop can be trumped (and it's difficult) is a hot fireman. Like, all sweaty with soot and half-undressed because of him being hot from saving people. And he's chisled. And scooping me up in a fireman hold (natch) and carrying me to be plundered...

I'm sorry, what? :D You need to write your fiveandfour/hot cop story - with detailed embellishments - and share it with the WORLD. Ahem. :D
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Jun. 8th, 2007 12:18 am (UTC)
Lucky *you*
Jun. 11th, 2007 11:27 pm (UTC)
Dude. SERIOUSLY. I felt lucky. Except for how I was stinky and frizzy haired and married and a mom and older than him by more than I want to acknowledge.

Jun. 8th, 2007 01:15 am (UTC)
I think you should mail him a copy of the song "Mrs. Robinson" as a thank you.
Jun. 11th, 2007 11:27 pm (UTC)
Heeeee! Did you see that savoytruffle is writing a SPander-version of my encounter and has that very song worked into the story? :DDDD
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Jun. 8th, 2007 01:19 am (UTC)
Why did you bother to have children if not to hire a hot male nanny? I think you need to get cracking and conduct some interviews complete with double-entendre sex-comedy style questions.
Jun. 11th, 2007 11:30 pm (UTC)
I LIKE THE CUT OF YOUR JIB. I keep saying the same thing to my husband, and he's all, "lazy this," and "pathetic whore" that. WHATEVER.

I'm still training the 5 year old on how to make Mama a decent Tom Collins. I think an assistant could help me expedite matters...

Some of the interviewing questions could be like, "If I needed to 'get me some' one afternoon, how quickly could you whisk the children and all evidence of their existence away so as to facilitate that happening? And do you know where I can buy condoms in bulk? And how to make a PB&J?"
Jun. 9th, 2007 05:46 am (UTC)
forgive me the typos and the fact that you're not a spander girl...

“Talk to you soon, Xand.”

Xander laid a hand on Willow’s arm. “Have fun,” he told her in that special parent-to-parent mix of sarcasm and sincerity.

“No less than you had last week and no more than you get to have next week,” Willow called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

Xander rolled his eyes as four pairs of feet followed on her heels.

“Bye, Dad!”

“Bye, Dad!”

“Bye, Uncle Xander!”

“Bye, Uncle Xander!”

“Bye,” Xander called, but the word was drowned out by the slam of the door. Geez, other people’s kids… He turned to face the kitchen.

Cups, cartons, bowls, boxes, glasses and spoons littered the counter and Xander closed his eyes, taking, as he did every morning, a brief moment to wonder how two little kids could make such a big mess in such a short time.

He opened his eyes, put the milk carton back in the fridge and ran away.

Most mornings, a good run was just what the doctor ordered. Out of the house, away from the chores and the kids and the vague feeling that it all might fall apart at any moment. Even in the heat of California summer, Xander’s run was his one chance to be free, to move, to breathe, to feel the wind of his face.

This morning – mosquitoes.

Swarming around his legs, biting at his ankles, and, as he hunched over to brush them away, flying up his nose.

Fucking mosquitoes.

Sneezing and swearing, Xander took the short way home.

Jun. 11th, 2007 02:32 pm (UTC)
[edited second part]
Sadly, the magic elves had not snuck in and cleaned up Xander’s kitchen in his absence. He sighed and grabbed a towel from the laundry room, wipe the sweat from his face as he crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He downed it in two long swallows and managed to move one bowl from the counter to the sink before the phone rang.

No great mystery as to who was on the other end of the line. Willow always called to chat as soon as she had the kids settled into some reasonably safe and self-sufficient activity.

He tossed the bottle toward the recycling and snagged the ringing handset from its wall mount, tucking it between chin and shoulder as he picked up another bowl and ferried it sinkward. “Hey, Will. Tell me, how on earth can two kids I used to be able to hold in the palms of my hands wreak so much havoc on one poor defenseless kitchen?”

“Dunno, mate. One of life’s great mysteries, yeah.” For Willow, the voice on the other end of the line was surprisingly British and shockingly male.

“Um… hello?” Xander said.

"Right,” Not-Willow said. “Kids found a cell phone in front of our house. Checked the contacts and this was the 'home' number?"

Xander looked down at the cell-pocket of his running shorts and found it distinctly lacking in cell phone. “Oh shit,” Xander said. “I'll come right over. Where are you?”

Not bothering to change out of his shorts and sweated-through shirt, Xander jogged the five blocks over to Not-Willow’s address, thinking that it was kind of refreshing to talk to what must be another stay-at-home dad. Though, hopefully for the other guy, not another widower. Alone as he sometimes felt, Xander certainly didn’t wish his particular circumstances on anyone else.

Not that his life was awful or anything. He was well adjusted. He’d grieved and moved on.

Way on, actually.

All the way to the opposite sex on.

Opposite of Anya, that was. Same as himself.

Not that there was a whole lot of opportunity for same-sex movage as a single dad with two kids in small town California, but still.

Xander trotted up to front porch and rang the bell. The door opened and his jaw dropped.

Well, he was pretty sure it had dropped. Later. When he thought back on the whole thing. Because in the moments after the door opened, all thinking was temporarily suspended in favor of staring.

Or was that gaping?

There may have been gaping.

There was definitely skin. That, Xander knows for sure.

Sunkissed skin, in vast exposed expanses, stretched taut over wiry muscle.

Wet skin. Skin fresh from the pool, glistening with droplets that wound their way from the hollows of collar bones, between pecs and over abs before being absorbed by low-riding swim trunks that clung in all the best places.

Barely legal skin, Xander realized, when he finally dragged his eyes upward to the barely legal face. Seventeen, maybe. Eighteen, if he were lucky. Not buying his own beer, that was for sure. Though with a face like that, he probably didn’t have to.

Xander took in the sun-bleached hair, standing up in wet spikes, the eyebrow with its tiny scar and silver piercing, the chiseled cheekbones, the pale pink lips…

Xander hoped that his own shorts left more to the imagination than this boy’s because there were certain reactions a single dad pushing thirty simply should not have to anyone too young to remember the first Bush administration.

And he was having every. single. one.

He could hear “Mr. Robinson” – the lesser known companion track to the famous “Mrs. Robinson” – cuing up in the background.

Or maybe that was bow chicka bow wow.

Dirty images flooded Xander’s head as those pale lips parted and...

“Missing something?” they asked.

Boy, was he ever.

Xander wasn’t sure how, but he managed to raise his arm and reach out for the offered cell phone. Warm fingers brushed his as he curled his hand around it. He blinked and then swallowed.

“I’m Xander,” he said, too many seconds later. “Xander Harris. I live just down the street.” He pointed.

“Spike,” the kid answered. His lips quirked up in a half smile and, though it happened too fast to be sure, Xander could have sworn he winked. “I’m the nanny.”
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Jul. 24th, 2007 03:57 am (UTC)
“So,” Xander asked, sipping from the coffee Willow had just poured him, “any exciting plans for your kid-free week?”

Willow smiled. “Depends on your definition of exciting. I have some galley proofs I have to go over and I’m still finishing up some revisions on the paper for that conference in San Diego. Oh, but that student I was telling you about, Dawn, just sent me the second chapter of her dissertation for feedback, so I’m excited to see what she’s come up with.”

“Sounds cool,” Xander said.

“What about you? Anything big planned for our little crew?”

“Nah, nothing much.” Xander tossed a casual glance in the direction of the windows. “Looks like the weather’ll be nice today. Not too hot. Thought I might take everyone over to that park on Revello.”

“Ooh, great idea. We haven’t been there in awhile.”

“Yeah, I took the girls on Saturday. And I know how much Kier and Kellen like that place, so I…” Xander stopped and shook his head. “Okay, no. I am a big fat liar and selfish and sleazy and apparently completely incapable of finding age-appropriate men and Spike doesn’t work on weekends and Topher thinks girls are lame and I’m basically using your children as live bait—”


“—and it’s not like I didn’t realize it was wrong but—”


Xander stopped and looked up. “What?”


Xander sucked air into his empty lungs and let it out slowly.

“Okay,” Willow began as she topped off both their coffees, “I may be the world’s leading expert in Xanderbabble, but let’s slow down so I can get this straight. First off, you may be a little desperate in dating terms right now, but we both know you’re not sleazy, okay?”

Xander nodded.

“Now,” Willow continued, “who’s Topher?”

“One of the kids Spike watches.”

“Okay, and you saw him at the park this weekend, but Spike wasn’t there?”


“So he’s just got that older sister, right?”

“Right. And I told him I had kids and he asked me if they were boys…” Xander trailed off.

“But they’re not,” Willow finished. “But mine are, so I’m thinking you told him you’d bring them to the park today, if he brought Spike.”

“Pretty much.” Xander stared down into his coffee. “Look, I know it was wrong to use your kids as bait…”

“Okay…” Willow held up a hand. “Are you planning to stick a hook through my sons?”


“And is anyone or anything actually going to eat them?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Okay. And do you think they’ll enjoy playing with Topher?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So what you’re saying is – you’re taking my kids to the park to play with a boy their age who might be a bit lonely, and that your own girls will be able to play with his sister, and that while they’re all doing that, you – a single gay man - are going to have some reasonably adult conversation with a cute guy in the neighborhood?” Willow sighed a woeful sigh. “Gee, Xander, how will I ever forgive you?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

Willow walked over to the base of the stairs and called up, “Kids, come on down here now!” She turned back and winked at Xander. “You don’t want to be late for your play date.”
Jul. 27th, 2007 04:05 am (UTC)
how about the actual entirety of the story chunk this time?
“So,” Spike asked as he sits down next to Xander on the bench, “any of these tikes yours, or’d you just borrow them for the occasion?”

Xander tried not to blush.

The moment he and the kids walked into the park, Topher had broken away from Spike and latched on to Kier and Kellen. The three were now chattering away on the jungle gym. The girls had found Topher’s sister and seemed to be in the process of co-inventing some sort of complicated game.

Xander, meanwhile, had taken a seat on his usual bench and now it seemed Spike was joining him. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that there was no need to start babbling crazy excuses. Willow had said it was okay.

“The girls are mine,” he said. “The boys belong to my friend Willow. During the summer we trade off. She had them all last week, this week it’s my turn.”

“’S good,” Spike said. “Topher wasn’t the only one thought he could use some company.”

Xander breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I’m glad I…” He trailed off. Was it his imagination it or was Spike staring at his left hand? Xander automatically followed the gaze.

“They have names?”

His head snapped back up at Spike’s question. “Huh?”

“Your girls,” Spike clarified.

“Oh, yeah.” Xander looked over, pointed to the smaller fair-haired girl. “That’s my baby, Ella.”

“As in Fitzgerald?”

“Um, no. It’s short for Emmanuella, actually.”

“Big name for such a little girl.”

“You don’t know the half. Emmanuella Anya Christina Jenkins Harris, according to her birth certificate.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“It was my wife’s name,” Xander said. “Well, in a slightly different order.”


“She died.” Xander tried to keep his tone steady. He had no problem saying it now, but hearing it tended to freak other people out. “Giving birth to Ella, actually.”

“I’m sorry, mate.”

Xander nodded. “Thanks. Me too. You’re right, though. That’s why I stick with ‘Ella’ for now. I figure once she learns to remember, spell and write her full name, though, she’ll be ready for UCLA.” Spike laughed and Xander let out the breath he’d been holding. He pointed to the taller darker-haired daughter. “And that’s Halle.”

“As in Berry?” Spike dared to hope.

Xander shook his head. “See, my wife had this cousin. And they were really close. I wasn’t too big on her myself – she was sort of freakishly overprotective and she kinda scared me, but it meant so much to Ahn…”

“Well, at least the cousin’s name wasn’t Mildred or something like that.”

“It was Halfrek.”

Spike’s eyes widened.

Xander shrugged. “I think it’s Swedish.”

Spike looked out at the girls and then back to Xander. “So your daughters’ names are Emmanuella and Halfrek?”

“Oh no.” Xander laughed and shook his head again. “We just went with ‘Halle.’ Even on the birth certificate. The state has laws against child abuse.”

( 73 comments — Leave a comment )


Are You Actually

Reading this? I'm just curious. Because that's really detail-oriented of you. Feel free to stop reading. But you can see that there's more here, so are you going to keep reading? Really? That's pretty dedicated. I'm impressed. No, really. I'm not being sarcastic, why do you get like that? See, this is the problem I have with your mother - yes. YES. I'm going there. It's time we put all of our cards on the table.

I love you, why are you doing this? After all we've been through? You don't have to be like this. You know, still reading. You could be baking a pie. And then sharing it with me.

Time Wot It Is

April 2017
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