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Boots, size 13 please!	By : Aewnaur Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 1986 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Eminem (Marshall Mathers). I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Boots, size 13 please!
- 1
A Co-production with AriChanda
PG-15 Strong Language. E.T.A: To fix a few errors.
Pairing is Eminem/Xander Harris (BtVS)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon. Eminem and the other musical celebrities belong to themselves.

Notes: This is a summary of a larger fic, we felt could stand on it's own. AU Post season 4. Pre-slash. Xander's thoughts over the last year. Consider it an excerpt. You've been forewarned. There is no excuse for this. Sunstrider might have contributed to this lunacy.

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Boots, Size 13 please!

Xander sat in the lounge outside the studio. Slim and D-12 had been in the there for a couple of hours and he was starting to get bored. He shifted in his seat and a silver glint caught his eye. He glanced down and realized that a large patch of leather had been scraped off the toe of his boot in last nights scuffle. Come to think of it this was only the latest casualty in a long line of boots he had ruined since hooking up with Eminem. He remembered the first pair, he had really liked that pair. They had been ruined one summer night about a year ago.

Movement caught Xander’s eye and he looked up from the rapidly decaying demon body. Only to see Eminem standing in the center of the pentagram. Xander lunged forward, hoping to get there before the spell took affect. But he was too late, a bright flash of light and he stumbled back. As his sight cleared he glanced down to see the demon’s blood covering his boots. The bright orange goo was eating through the leather.

Xander snorted. Marshall hadn’t paid him for those boots either. Nor the ones he had puked on.

The drunken rapper ranted while pacing back and forth in their hotel room. “Ever since I met you, you’ve been a pain in my ass. You not only make everyone like you, but you have the nerve not to be intimidated by Dre. Everyone is intimidated by Dre! I was intimidated by Dre, then you make me follow you and I get magicked by some demons. DEMONS! Now I have to ride a fucking Greyhound to L.A. And you’re riding my ass about having a drink or two?!” Before Xander could mention that two empty bottles were not a drink or two the rapper leaned over and hurled in his boots.

Those were the second pair in as many months. Technically the third pair hadn’t been ruined. He had to leave them at Deadboy’s, when they’d skipped town. He had hated having to leave the boots behind but the demon clan had descended on the Hyperion. And while the Fang gang and the surviving Scoobies were busy fighting they wouldn’t have been distracted for long. So he and Marshall had ducked out, heading straight to Marshall’s L.A. home. Gathering the passports for their trip to see Giles. Xander frowned as he thought about that. That pair had definitely been Marshall’s fault.

While in England he had bought yet another pair. He had really liked those boots. They had been a kick ass pair of boots. But unlike Xander, Marshall had not learned not to touch what Giles said not to touch. And there went another fucking pair of boots.

Back in the states he had given in and bought another pair of Doc Martins, hoping they would last longer than the last few. But it was not to be. On their way from L.A. to Detroit via Greyhound yet again. There’d been a layover in Ohio, so he had stopped in to see Faith and Dawnie, but maybe he shouldn’t have. ‘Cause there went another pair of boots. Actually that wasn’t Marshall’s fault but on general principle he blamed Marshall.

At least this pair had lasted a good six months before they had gotten messed up, he thought as he stared down at them. But he’d be damned if he was going to buy himself another pair of boots. In fact he was going to go in there and tell Slim that.

Xander stood, walked over and calmly open the door. Strolled past Dr. Dre and the rest of D-12 over to the door with the brightly lit sign that read, ‘keep door closed if lit’, and opened it. Without pause he walked into the sound room stopping right beside Eminem.

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Em looked over as the door opened. “X, can’t you see we’re working,” he asked, slipping the headphones off.

“I need some new boots,” Xander stated calmly.

Em stared at him, he knew X was a little different, a little off, but this was a bit much.

“So buy you some fuckin’ boots!” snapped Em.

“With what? I’ve been your bodyguard for a year, and I ain’t been paid yet,” said Xander glancing down at his boot. “Ya cheap bastard!”

“You’re not my bodyguard, you’re my friend. I don’t pay my friends.”

“Then how am I supposed to get my goddamned boots?” X growled.

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Dre watched the silent conversation until he finally had enough and he leaned over and hit the intercom button.

“X, what the hell is wrong wit you, boy? Didn’t you see the light?”

Xander turned to face Dre. “What’s wrong wit me, is that I need another goddamned pair of boots and this cheap bastard won’t buy me any!”

“Why don’t you buy yourself a pair?” Dre sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He thought dealing with Em was bad. But X and Em… he might as well buy stock in Malox dealing with the two of them together.

“With what? I’ve been here a year, a whole fuckin’ year and I ain’t seen a dime.”

Dre paused, looking over at Lonnie the head of Em’s security team. Lonnie looked over at the other bodyguards before looking back at Dre.

“He don’t work for us,” Lonnie shrugged.

Proof and Bizarre stared at the pair behind the glass. Watching as Xander pointed down at his boot then back up at Em. And though they couldn’t hear a sound they knew he was saying ’goddamned boots’. Proof started snickering as Em’s face got redder and redder.

Dre’s thoughts wondered over the past year. X had been with them since Detroit. He hadn’t paid him. He thought Shady had been paying him but apparently not. He leaned back over and flicked the intercom on again just in time to hear X exclaim, “ and why not? I ruined them kicking ass for you!”

Dre shook his head, this was going to be a long damned day.

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Xander sat on the sofa, the television was on but his gaze was focused on his boot.

Eminem stood in the doorway for a moment before walking over and flicking off the t.v. He had hoped to garner the young man’s attention but he was still staring down at his fucking boot.

“I can’t believe you’re still pouting about those boots,” said Em dropping down beside Xander. There was barely any space between them. Over the year they had been in pretty close quarters so each was comfortable in the other’s space. Space Em would like to be a whole lot more comfortable in.

Xander glanced from the hole in his boot to Em, “I want a new pair of boots, since your cheap ass won’t buy me a pair. I need a job Em.”

“Look I don’t pay my friends but I am sure there are other ways you can be compensated,” Em growled as he slid his hand onto the leather covered thigh. He knew Faith had said Xander could be oblivious, but this was almost ridiculous. He guessed he’d have to be a bit more obvious.

“Does that mean you’re buying me the goddamned boots?” Xander finally looked up at the older man.

Marshall growled, “I’ll buy you the damned boots,” as his hand slid over Xander’s crotch.

Despite the temptation Xander ignored 'little Xander'. He was not giving in to Marshall that easily. Not after what he had done in Vegas. He didn’t appreciate being ignored and really this was less about the boots than fucking with Marshall. Not that he wasn’t eventually going to give in. After all that was the reason he had stayed so long. But at the moment he was having too much fun screwing with him. Hard though it was he pushed the hand away.

“I don’t need a Sugar Daddy. I need a fuckin’ job!” Xander growled.

Em stood up, he could not believe he had just been dismissed. “Motherfucker, I know you just didn’t!”

“A man has his pride Em. I need a job.”

Em paced the length of the room fuming. He was Emfuckingem he did not get rejected. In fact… He flipped back around to face Xander with a growl.

“I have women begging to suck my cock! Begging!” He glared down at X. Xander looked back at him, like he was the one who was nuts. He needed a drink and he needed it now. With one last snarl he stomped out of the room.

Xander waited until he was sure Em was far enough away, then collapsed on the sofa and howled with laughter.

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The next morning after Xander got dressed, he opened his closet to get his boots. The goddamned boots with the hole in them. Except there beside them was a pair of shiny new black Timberlands. Xander thought these just might be the best pair yet. He grinned as he put them on.

Xander walked into the kitchen, with a bounce in his step, where Marshall was sitting hunched over his cereal bowl. Em looked up and grunted then went back to eating. Xander had to smother a grin Slim just looked so cute when he was pouting. He sat across the table from Em and admired his new boots. He waited a few moments in silence before speaking.

“I still need a fuckin’ job.”

Em slammed his spoon down on the table and glared up at Xander.

“You know what. Fine. You want a job. I’ll get you a fuckin’ job!” Eminem stood and grabbed his cell from the counter. His fingers jabbed at the buttons in aggravation.

“Dre, put X on the Aftermath payroll,” he demanded imperiously when Dre answered.

“As what, your friend? What I gotta pay people to be friends with you now?” Dre snickered silently. It wasn’t very often he could get Shady this riled up he was going to play it for all it was worth.

“Just put him on the fuckin’ payroll, Dre. I don’t care what you list him as,” Em snarled.

“I’ll see what I can do Em, but no promises. Maybe a janitor,” Dre worked at sounding worried.

“Fine whatever just find him a place,” Em growled.

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Dre snickered as he hung up the phone. He glanced up at Richard the Head of Security for Aftermath Studio’s.

“Shady want’s me to put X on the payroll.”

“Didn’t you do that yesterday?” Richard frowned.

“Yeah, but Shady don’t know that,” Dre finally gave into the laughter he had been holding in since he had answered the phone.

“I still can’t believe that the fucker has been looking after Shady for a year without being on someone’s payroll.” Richard shook his head before a look of horror crossed his face and he sat heavily in the chair across from Dre. “That means he isn’t insured. We’re lucky we haven’t been sued.”

Dre flicked on his intercom, “Becky, get X on the insurance and for God’s sake back date all his shit. Make it look like he has been with us for the last year. I ain’t loosin’ my shit cause X was too stupid to speak up before now,” Dre growled.

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Em slammed the phone closed and flung himself back into the chair. He knew he was over reacting, X was his friend, but damn. He hadn’t gotten any since Vegas. X wasn’t like the little groupies though, X was important. So if he felt that he needed a job, he got a job. If he needed his goddamned boots, he got his boots. Like X said a man had his pride, that was something he could respect. Em settled back at the table and refocused on his breakfast.

Xander poured himself a bowl of cereal then slowly added the milk. Just when Em started to relax he spoke up.

“So, you still wanna fuck?”

Milk shot out of Marshall’s nose. Several minutes later when the cursing finally died down and Marshall had blown his nose several times he growled.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What? Nothing. You brought it up. I just wanted to know if you were still interested,” Xander replied calmly.

“Yesterday, X. I brought it up yesterday,” Em’s voice was strained.

“What there was a time limit?” Xander asked brows furrowed in mock confusion. “You didn’t say there was a time limit.”

“Fucking hell X. I know you aren’t stupid. What the hell is going on?” the frustrated rapper asked.

“I’m asking a simple question. It should be a simple answer. Do you want to fuck? Yes or no?”

Em thought about protesting. Thought about asking another question. Then he thought about what X had said. Sex.

"A'ight. Let’s go.”

Xander stood and calmly walked back up the stairs bypassing his room for Marshall’s, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Em bounced behind X like an over eager puppy. He was finally going to get laid by X!

Six months later…

Xander was spread out on the couch beside Bizarre. Proof sat in a chair across from them tossing M&M’s at the pair.

Dre stalked into the room and stopped directly in front of X.

“X,” the deep voice pulled his attention away from the candy coated chocolate. “You been cashing your paychecks X?”

“Uh, no.”

All movement stopped and the room grew unnaturally silent. Eminem’s mouth dropped open. ‘What the fuck?’ thought Em.

“Why the fuck not?” Dre asked.

“I ain’t needed nothing yet,” Xander explained in that calm voice everyone had grown to hate. He pointed down at his feet lovingly incased in shiny black leather. “I got my boots, ‘sides I was just bored and fuckin' with Em.”

Eminem’s mouth snapped closed, and his eyes grew huge. “X, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

Dre couldn’t help the chuckle that welled up from deep in his chest, hearing his familiar refrain coming from Em. He shook his head and headed for the door. Those two insane motherfuckers deserved each other. He gave one last barking laugh as he closed the door behind him.

end.
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Boots, size 13 please!