Not really "more" so much as "revision." Here's the donut thing again, now with shiny new title. Only three hundred posts later...
Title: Jimmy Olsen
one.
Xander slammed his book shut, got up from the table, and started to pace. Then he started humming "Mr. Roboto." And then he unconsciously started to do interpretive dance, at which point Giles simply had to comment.
"Xander! For god's sake, either get back to your book or get out of the library! I can't concentrate with you...wiggling like that, and I absolutely must figure out what this demon is before Buffy returns from patrol."
Xander threw himself into a chair. "Yeah, but the book is so heavy. And thick. And dense. Which is really kind of the meaning of heavy and thick. And this is not prose at all. I don't know what--" he looked at the spine "--Dosselhoff was thinking, but he's really not appealing to his audience at all."
Giles glared. He took off his glasses, wiping them uselessly with his shirt, before putting them back on. When he was done with the ritual glasses-cleaning, he took out his wallet and grabbed a ten-dollar bill. "Go do something." He paused. "Donuts. Buy donuts."
Xander shot up from his chair, swiping the money and heading for the door. "Don't forget the jellies!" Giles called after him, delving back into his book.
two.
Around the time they started researching Angelus--not just the "this is what he was and when he lived" synopsis, more along the lines of the research that required graphs, charts, bullet points, and a PhD in Demonology to comprehend--Xander started to get antsy.
It wasn't the normal nervous energy he seemed to radiate. More like a thrumming rhythm that started with his heartbeat and spread throughout his body until his fingers drummed the staccato on the table and his leg was bouncing up and down.
Without looking up from their texts, Willow and Giles pointed at the checkout desk, where the library-fine money was kept. It had unofficially been dubbed "donut donation fund," and the coffers were kept surprisingly full by students who either forgot they had books out or who were seemingly scared of the library (or its most active patrons) and made as few trips into the sanctum as possible.
Xander grabbed a couple of dollars and announced, "I'm getting sustenance. Any special requests?"
"Blackberry."
"Scone, any flavor."
"Carla said she wasn't making scones this week," Xander said.
There was an audible sigh and movements toward glasses-cleaning. "Fine. Bavarian crème."
Xander nodded and headed out the door at an almost-run, checking the stake in his back pocket.
three.
Xander walked into the library carrying a familiar pink box. "Celebratory donuts! Get 'em while they're here."
Oz moved from the explosive he was wiring and opened the box. "Little pre-emptive," he said, grabbing a strawberry Danish.
"Yeah, Xand, we haven't won yet. But thanks for the vote of confidence," Buffy said as she claimed an eclair.
"Hey, what can I say--donuts always ensure victory," Xander mused, moving the box to the center of the table. There was looming behind him. Xander figured it was Angel.
"Did you get a bearclaw?" Yeah, it was Angel.
"No, they were all out. Try a muffin. I hear they're great for your fiber intake," Xander said with thinly-veiled sarcasm.
Angel gave a low-watt glare and grabbed a jelly instead.
Giles looked at Xander expectantly, and Xander sighed, rooting around in the box before coming up with a raspberry jelly. He handed it to Giles, who had a satisfied look on his face. Willow was the last to meander over, swiping a plain one while reading her book. She gave Xander a pat on the shoulder, before going to sit next to Oz.
There were a couple left, and Xander poked at them before choosing one at random. He sat down and leaned back in his chair, munching on what turned out to be white creme. He surveyed the sight of the Scoobies at rest for a moment, a pause in their desperate attempt to save the world. Again.
Yup, Xander thought. We prepare for battle with sugared pastry. The military should learn tricks from us.
four.
Xander worked in the donut shop work a week before Carla fired him sweetly, handing him a box of donuts for free and telling him she only wanted to see him as a customer from now on. Go give your friends a treat, she said.
The problem was, he hadn't seen his friends for days.
five.
Xander got a donut on the way to work every morning. He'd get a jelly and a cup of coffee, buy the paper that he never read just outside, and would get to work about five minutes early. They'd close up shop after a long, hard day's work around five thirty, and he'd have time to get washed up before the usual Scooby meetup at six.
When everyone got embroiled in the crazy bitch of the week, Xander would poke around the Magic Box, jumping back when Anya told him not to touch something because it would kill him/maim him/turn him purple. Then he'd meander back to the book table and open a volume at random, flipping the pages for quick looks at the pictures.
If Dawn was there, and she often was, Xander would sometimes take her along on a donut run and she'd pick out the best donuts out of all on display. He'd ruffle her hair, and they'd go back to the shop, and occasionally one of them would mumble "Thanks" from behind a mouthful of donut.
He told himself that what he was doing was important.