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The Five Worst Things About Dating Andrew Wells

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Number Two: Everyone else thinks you're completely crazy. (And come to think of it, so do you.)

 

"Andrew? Really?"

"Yeah… kinda…"

"But really?"

"Hey, he's not that bad," Dawn protested, feeling herself begin to blush again.

"I s'pose. And you guys are best friends and everything…" Willow said thoughtfully. "I guess I just thought you'd end up with someone better. Or, um, different, anyway."

Yeah, so did I.

 

He was going to laugh in her face.
Or actually, no, he'd be puzzled and (hopefully) happy about it – everyone else was going to laugh at her. Dawn Summers, Watcher Extraordinaire, girlfriend of suave Italians and the occasional sexy demon fighter, going out with Andrew? She'd never live it down.

But…

He was just so nice and Andrewish, and ever since two days ago when she'd noticed how cute the back of his neck was, she'd been increasingly obsessed and blushy – and suddenly the idea of going out with him was really appealing, constant Star Trek references notwithstanding.

 

"I don't really want different. I… I want Andrew."

There was a short pause, and then Willow smiled at her in an understanding sort of way. "I've been there."

"…you've liked Andrew?"

"Ack! No! Eww! – well, not 'eww', because that'd be… I mean he's nice, and I'm sure you'll… um… but no, I mean I've liked the people who aren't the people you'd expect to be liking."

"Like Kennedy."

"Like Kennedy." Willow nodded. "And hey, that's working out okay, even if she sometimes–"

"Or like Tara?"

"Tara?" She looked confused for a second, but then– "Yeah. Yeah, like Tara."

"The thing is…" Dawn looked at her hands, and tried to decide how to put it. "The thing is, I don't think he's my type. He's not. But he's… fun, and nice, and completely obsessed with action figures, and a total pain sometimes, and not tall enough, and I don't care if he's not my type, because he's… well, him."

She looked up. Willow was watching her with a rueful smile.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing…"

"So… yeah. I like him."

"Are you going to ask him out?"

 

Maybe. Probably. Yes. Or– Well, no, because that would– Except that– Definitely. She had to. Or maybe, anyway.
Dawn sighed. She really should figure out what she actually thought about all this.

 

"I'm not sure."

 

Either she'd end up going out with him, and ruin her chances of ever being in a normal relationship again, or he'd turn her down and she'd end up pining after him for months on end while he dated someone else, or they'd have a great time for a few weeks, and then break up over something stupid and stop talking, and either way Buffy was going to have so much fun laughing at her, which was fair enough really, given how much she'd made fun of Buffy's rotating list of ambiguously-evil boyfriends, and what if she asked him out and then realised that actually she didn't like him, and felt obligated to go out with him anyway?

Screw it. She'd become a nun. That'd work.

 

"Getting all nervous and edgy?"

"Uh-huh." Dawn shot her a quick smile, and shrugged. "I want to… but it'd be much easier if I knew he was going to say yes, first."

Willow shot her a look that either meant "You do realise he's been in love with you for two years, right?" or "You know you haven't got a chance, right?".
But all she said was, "You won't know until you ask."