This is a bit late. Damn the McDaniel server.
Title: Identity
Author: Christina (sihaya09)
Pairing: Xander and Oz pre-slash
Timeline: Mid-season 2 of Buffy, sometime after 'Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered.' Small spoilers for that episode and 'Passion.'
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are a product of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy/20th Century Fox's twisted little brains. I make no monetary profit for playing with their characters, and I always wipe them down before I neatly put them back.
Note: This is for
otherpervert for stakebait's Back In The Day ficathon. Thanks to evergleam83 for her input on Oz.
Note the second: This was kind of last minute. If anyone would like to send me fb/crit or even offer to beta so I can eventually re-write it, I'd be grateful. :)
Identity
"Pass me a screwdriver, would you?" Oz asked.
"Oz, man, I would, but I ran out of vodka just this morning," chuckled Xander Harris, reaching for the battered red toolbox. The corner of Oz's mouth twitched in a half-smile. That was the most that Xander was likely to get out of him, and he was rather proud he'd gotten that much. Oz had the kind of cool that settled effortlessly about him, something that Xander could only daydream about.
They were sprawled out on the white linoleum tile floor of the Sunnydale High library about an hour after school let out. The girls were nowhere to be seen, but Xander remembered Willow's weary sigh about helping Buffy with her never-ending assault on the French language. The space was silent. Ordinarily, Giles would be rustling through the pages of his musty, ancient texts on such a quiet, rainy day, but he'd barely been a specter in the weeks since Mrs. Calendar's funeral. The memory of that sober day seemed to cast a spell of silence over everyone. Silence always made Xander antsy.
Oz had dragged an old amp from storage in the band room and was tinkering with it. Something about a screwy tweeter or something. Sounded kind of fruity to Xander. "So what exactly are you doing?" he asked, leaning in to squint at the kaleidoscope of wires and silver sockets.
Oz shrugged. "Just tweaking it. Mine blew, and we've got a Friday gig at the Bronze."
"Ah." Xander shifted. "Wow. I wish I could fix stuff like that."
"It's not too hard." Oz paused for a moment, thoughtful. "You know, as much as things break around here, you'd think one of us would be handy enough."
"Better you than me, buddy. You forget, I'm Xander Harris, exalted donut boy."
Oz quirked an eyebrow. "It seems to me that I'm the odd man out here, you know. Being the recent addition and all."
"Not, really. You bring the whole Wolfman quotient to the table. I mean, think about it," He started to tick a list off on his fingers, "We've got the hot blonde-slash-Vampire Slayer, the genius super-hacker, Mr. I-Know-Every-Language-Ever, and even Deadboy back in the day. Me? I've got to cast a love spell just to get my quasi-girlfriend to elevate my mojo status from punching bag to 'gee, I'm only slightly repulsed by him.' What gives?"
"You know, being normal isn't as bad as it seems." Oz stopped fiddling with the amp a few minutes to look at his hands. "At least your monthly expenses on razors hasn't tripled."
"At least you have use for razors."
"True." Then, seeing Xander's face fall, he quickly added, "You're not fishing for compliments, are you?"
Xander sighed and lay back, his head resting on the lowest step of the staircase. "Alas, no."
Oz sat still for a moment, deep in thought. He uncomfortably shifted his weight before he spoke. "You're not such a bad-lookin' guy, you know."
Xander looked puzzled. "Hm?"
"The time I punched you for making Willow go all in heat?" Oz asked. Xander remembered. Willow had been ready to ride him like a pony-- along with every other woman in Sunnydale. "Well," Oz continued, "I don't think that was the only reason. Maybe I got a little jealous."
"What?" Now Xander looked fairly incredulous. It never occurred to Xander that maybe he wasn't the only one with identity issues. For once, he was the quiet one. He sat up slowly, not terribly aware that his mouth was agape.
"So," Oz said, studying the casing again, "How 'bout some needle-nose pliers?"
"All righty." Slightly dazed, Xander dug into the toolbox again. As he reached over to hand the gizmo to Oz, their fingers touched lightly, and Xander let himself briefly wonder what it would be like if Oz's fingers brushed his lips. That would be kind of nice. And if they kissed, Oz's lips wouldn't leave cherry lipstick smeared across his chin like Cordy's would. He wouldn't smell so foreign; he'd smell comforting and familiar, of twice-worn band shirts and a slight hint of patchouli. He could glide his fingers over the gelled spikes of his orange-tipped hair. And just maybe, if their tongues met, Oz would imbue him just a little with his natural aura of cool.
Xander's skin was tingling. His eyelashes fluttered a bit as he wondered what to do next.
Just then, Buffy and Willow burst through the library doors with somber chatter and the steady clip-clop of Buffy's three-inch heels, snatching the vision away. Willow sighed, "No, Buffy. It's 'j'ai dix-sept ans,' not 'je suis.'"
"But that makes no sense. How can someone 'have seventeen years'? How can someone have time? Where would they keep it? In a special time-pocket? Well, I guess you'd have to have time in order to take time, but..."
As Buffy continued to ramble, Willow stooped down to give Oz a kiss on the cheek. "You two having guy time?" she asked tiredly.
"You know it," replied Xander abruptly as Oz snapped on the final piece of the amp's casing.
"Well, that's good. It's good to see you getting along and all. Not that you shouldn't...." She scrunched up her nose and slumped into a chair. "I should just not talk today."
Xander looked over to Oz, who seemed to know exactly what he'd been picturing. "Yeah. Maybe we should save the talking until another time."
"Indeed," Oz answered back.
Author: Christina (sihaya09)
Pairing: Xander and Oz pre-slash
Timeline: Mid-season 2 of Buffy, sometime after 'Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered.' Small spoilers for that episode and 'Passion.'
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are a product of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy/20th Century Fox's twisted little brains. I make no monetary profit for playing with their characters, and I always wipe them down before I neatly put them back.
Note: This is for
otherpervert for stakebait's Back In The Day ficathon. Thanks to evergleam83 for her input on Oz.Note the second: This was kind of last minute. If anyone would like to send me fb/crit or even offer to beta so I can eventually re-write it, I'd be grateful. :)
Identity
"Pass me a screwdriver, would you?" Oz asked.
"Oz, man, I would, but I ran out of vodka just this morning," chuckled Xander Harris, reaching for the battered red toolbox. The corner of Oz's mouth twitched in a half-smile. That was the most that Xander was likely to get out of him, and he was rather proud he'd gotten that much. Oz had the kind of cool that settled effortlessly about him, something that Xander could only daydream about.
They were sprawled out on the white linoleum tile floor of the Sunnydale High library about an hour after school let out. The girls were nowhere to be seen, but Xander remembered Willow's weary sigh about helping Buffy with her never-ending assault on the French language. The space was silent. Ordinarily, Giles would be rustling through the pages of his musty, ancient texts on such a quiet, rainy day, but he'd barely been a specter in the weeks since Mrs. Calendar's funeral. The memory of that sober day seemed to cast a spell of silence over everyone. Silence always made Xander antsy.
Oz had dragged an old amp from storage in the band room and was tinkering with it. Something about a screwy tweeter or something. Sounded kind of fruity to Xander. "So what exactly are you doing?" he asked, leaning in to squint at the kaleidoscope of wires and silver sockets.
Oz shrugged. "Just tweaking it. Mine blew, and we've got a Friday gig at the Bronze."
"Ah." Xander shifted. "Wow. I wish I could fix stuff like that."
"It's not too hard." Oz paused for a moment, thoughtful. "You know, as much as things break around here, you'd think one of us would be handy enough."
"Better you than me, buddy. You forget, I'm Xander Harris, exalted donut boy."
Oz quirked an eyebrow. "It seems to me that I'm the odd man out here, you know. Being the recent addition and all."
"Not, really. You bring the whole Wolfman quotient to the table. I mean, think about it," He started to tick a list off on his fingers, "We've got the hot blonde-slash-Vampire Slayer, the genius super-hacker, Mr. I-Know-Every-Language-Ever, and even Deadboy back in the day. Me? I've got to cast a love spell just to get my quasi-girlfriend to elevate my mojo status from punching bag to 'gee, I'm only slightly repulsed by him.' What gives?"
"You know, being normal isn't as bad as it seems." Oz stopped fiddling with the amp a few minutes to look at his hands. "At least your monthly expenses on razors hasn't tripled."
"At least you have use for razors."
"True." Then, seeing Xander's face fall, he quickly added, "You're not fishing for compliments, are you?"
Xander sighed and lay back, his head resting on the lowest step of the staircase. "Alas, no."
Oz sat still for a moment, deep in thought. He uncomfortably shifted his weight before he spoke. "You're not such a bad-lookin' guy, you know."
Xander looked puzzled. "Hm?"
"The time I punched you for making Willow go all in heat?" Oz asked. Xander remembered. Willow had been ready to ride him like a pony-- along with every other woman in Sunnydale. "Well," Oz continued, "I don't think that was the only reason. Maybe I got a little jealous."
"What?" Now Xander looked fairly incredulous. It never occurred to Xander that maybe he wasn't the only one with identity issues. For once, he was the quiet one. He sat up slowly, not terribly aware that his mouth was agape.
"So," Oz said, studying the casing again, "How 'bout some needle-nose pliers?"
"All righty." Slightly dazed, Xander dug into the toolbox again. As he reached over to hand the gizmo to Oz, their fingers touched lightly, and Xander let himself briefly wonder what it would be like if Oz's fingers brushed his lips. That would be kind of nice. And if they kissed, Oz's lips wouldn't leave cherry lipstick smeared across his chin like Cordy's would. He wouldn't smell so foreign; he'd smell comforting and familiar, of twice-worn band shirts and a slight hint of patchouli. He could glide his fingers over the gelled spikes of his orange-tipped hair. And just maybe, if their tongues met, Oz would imbue him just a little with his natural aura of cool.
Xander's skin was tingling. His eyelashes fluttered a bit as he wondered what to do next.
Just then, Buffy and Willow burst through the library doors with somber chatter and the steady clip-clop of Buffy's three-inch heels, snatching the vision away. Willow sighed, "No, Buffy. It's 'j'ai dix-sept ans,' not 'je suis.'"
"But that makes no sense. How can someone 'have seventeen years'? How can someone have time? Where would they keep it? In a special time-pocket? Well, I guess you'd have to have time in order to take time, but..."
As Buffy continued to ramble, Willow stooped down to give Oz a kiss on the cheek. "You two having guy time?" she asked tiredly.
"You know it," replied Xander abruptly as Oz snapped on the final piece of the amp's casing.
"Well, that's good. It's good to see you getting along and all. Not that you shouldn't...." She scrunched up her nose and slumped into a chair. "I should just not talk today."
Xander looked over to Oz, who seemed to know exactly what he'd been picturing. "Yeah. Maybe we should save the talking until another time."
"Indeed," Oz answered back.