Grace, O/X part 5
Mar. 16th, 2004 11:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aimeeliciousI finally named this story Grace. It needed a simple title, Oz wouldn't let me do anything else. Previous parts can be found here.
Hope you enjoy! And do please comment/leave feedback, it's great to know people are reading.
The house was quiet again with the boy finally asleep, and Xander sighed to himself at the sheer pleasure of sitting on Oz's deck with a beer, enjoying the semi-cool air. The provider of the evening's peaceful non-entertainment swung silently in his hammock, relaxed to the casual observer, but Xander knew better. There had been no phone call to Willow for clarification, and Paddy had kept things hopping all day. Now that it was dark and they had no buffer, the Pandora's box again awaited, sitting between them like the proverbial pink elephant. Lycanthropy, dyed brown hair, stirrings of unexpected desire, confusion, lies. His own broken soul. Which was not up for discussion.
Xander leaned forward slightly and got the ball rolling. "What about the wolf?"
Oz didn't move, but after a moment he opened his eyes. "Under control."
"How?"
"Willow," Oz replied, waving his beer in a general easterly direction. "Magic."
Xander was tired of apparently being the last one to know everything. "When did this happen?"
"When I moved here, I asked for her help."
"Why not before that, if you knew she could do something? Where were you living all this time? What did you do to keep from eating people on a monthly basis?"
Oz raised his eyebrow at the onslaught. "Meditation and chains were enough before Paddy. And I lived in a lot of places."
"It was always pulling teeth with you, wasn't it," Xander huffed, annoyed at getting brief answers to what seemed like paragraph-worthy questions. It was bad enough Willow had gotten all secretive on him, if he was going to stay here and ponder life there'd better be someone to talk to who would actually talk back. For a second, the pull of Spike's memory hit him again, but he resisted.
Oz said nothing, instead dipping his foot to the ground to start the hammock swaying again. Xander jumped up and started pacing around the small backyard, suddenly incapable of being still.
"So Willow wants me to be here and what, have non-conversations with you? This improves my life how, exactly? Ok, sure it's nice to have a guy to hang out with who isn't Andrew, but this is suburbia on the West Coast and how long can I really be here, mooching off you when you've got a kid to...raise?" Xander had a little trouble getting that last part out. It was still pretty surreal that the guy he last knew as a pot-head werewolf with a garage band was responsible for a child. Children needed protection from all those things he and Oz knew way too much about. Xander realized he'd derailed himself from his own rant and sank back down onto the deck steps.
"Never mind me, how do you do it? Believe in keeping him safe?"
There was a shuffle as Oz left the hammock and sat next to him, their shoulders almost touching as they looked out into the darkness.
"I don't believe. I just do my best. Tell him what I think will help, but not too much to scare him. And I hope, often, that he won't see what we did. Especially what you saw, after I left. Heard it got a lot worse."
Xander nodded, acknowledging the truth in that simple statement. "Oh, it did." He left it there, unwilling to delve into his version of the events of almost two years ago. Thinking about them made a lot more than his eye ache.
"I can tell you don't want to talk about it now," Oz stated, "but when you do, I'll be here."
It was the second time a declaration like that had been made. This was getting weirder by the minute, and Xander really needed to know something. "What, exactly, are you getting out of all this? Me showing up, being forced on you by your ex-girlfriend..."
Oz cut him off, "Not forced. I told her you were welcome here."
"But why? We were never best buds, so I guess I'm just not too sure about your motivation."
Xander felt Oz shifting to face him, and thought about doing the same but didn't. This was part of the Pandora's box he should have left alone. There were too many variables, too many possibilities, none of which made much sense and many of which could hurt. He didn't want any more hurt.
"Willow talks about you a lot. Worries. I remember you very differently than you are now." Oz paused, twisting his hands a little in the first sign of nerves Xander could ever recall him displaying. He stared at the unconscious movement, unwilling to meet Oz's eyes and completely at a loss as to where this might be going. Wanting, maybe, for Oz to touch him again, like he had that morning. Not understanding this attraction to a man who was a virtual stranger, despite their shared history.
"Look at me, Xander. Please." Xander shivered. He couldn't have said no to that plea if he'd wanted to, and when his gaze lifted he was startled by the emotion on Oz's normally dispassionate face. "I'm not sure why, but it was important to me that you come. I can help you. I want to help you."
He was stunned. Of all the things Oz might have said, Xander never would have come up with that. And even if he admitted to needing help, which he was far from doing, why Oz? Before he could drum up a suitable reply, there were lips, warm and moving carefully but deliberately on his own. A hand crept behind his neck, pulling them closer together as Oz's tongue begged entry. With a quiet moan Xander opened his mouth, feeling confusion recede and fire take its place as the kiss deepened, starting a burn somewhere dark in him, a place he'd been certain got buried along with Sunnydale. Exploring Oz, the inside of Oz, was like discovering the joy of chocolate all over again. He tasted sweet but powerful, all cinnamon and heat and salt.
They broke apart at the same time, Oz running his fingers once through Xander's hair before sitting back. Xander had no idea how Oz could look so calm after a kiss like that, a long, wet, amazing man-kiss, and since when did he enjoy those so much? He sensed the distance between them now keenly, as though the kiss had created some kind of tenuous connection, and Xander felt something snap at that thought. There should be no connection.
There was an attempt then to shut down, there really was. But Oz's half-smile could not be brushed off so easily. He, Xander, had put it there. It was a matter of pride. Maybe some tiny freedoms, here in Oregon and away from the Cleveland Hellmouth, could be permitted. For just a little while.
Oz unfolded himself from the stairs and stood. "See you in the morning." It was not a question. And then he was gone, into the house, leaving Xander alone on the deck. It seemed a lot of their conversations were destined to end with Oz walking away. But that was ok. Xander didn't feel like there was much left to say tonight.
He turned his face to the sky and thought he could feel the fingers of Jesse and Spike and Anya fluttering against his cheeks as the wind blew, touching and giving him grace for just one precious moment. Sure he'd stay a bit longer, following his often questionable instincts. It didn't really mean anything though. Not yet.
Hope you enjoy! And do please comment/leave feedback, it's great to know people are reading.
The house was quiet again with the boy finally asleep, and Xander sighed to himself at the sheer pleasure of sitting on Oz's deck with a beer, enjoying the semi-cool air. The provider of the evening's peaceful non-entertainment swung silently in his hammock, relaxed to the casual observer, but Xander knew better. There had been no phone call to Willow for clarification, and Paddy had kept things hopping all day. Now that it was dark and they had no buffer, the Pandora's box again awaited, sitting between them like the proverbial pink elephant. Lycanthropy, dyed brown hair, stirrings of unexpected desire, confusion, lies. His own broken soul. Which was not up for discussion.
Xander leaned forward slightly and got the ball rolling. "What about the wolf?"
Oz didn't move, but after a moment he opened his eyes. "Under control."
"How?"
"Willow," Oz replied, waving his beer in a general easterly direction. "Magic."
Xander was tired of apparently being the last one to know everything. "When did this happen?"
"When I moved here, I asked for her help."
"Why not before that, if you knew she could do something? Where were you living all this time? What did you do to keep from eating people on a monthly basis?"
Oz raised his eyebrow at the onslaught. "Meditation and chains were enough before Paddy. And I lived in a lot of places."
"It was always pulling teeth with you, wasn't it," Xander huffed, annoyed at getting brief answers to what seemed like paragraph-worthy questions. It was bad enough Willow had gotten all secretive on him, if he was going to stay here and ponder life there'd better be someone to talk to who would actually talk back. For a second, the pull of Spike's memory hit him again, but he resisted.
Oz said nothing, instead dipping his foot to the ground to start the hammock swaying again. Xander jumped up and started pacing around the small backyard, suddenly incapable of being still.
"So Willow wants me to be here and what, have non-conversations with you? This improves my life how, exactly? Ok, sure it's nice to have a guy to hang out with who isn't Andrew, but this is suburbia on the West Coast and how long can I really be here, mooching off you when you've got a kid to...raise?" Xander had a little trouble getting that last part out. It was still pretty surreal that the guy he last knew as a pot-head werewolf with a garage band was responsible for a child. Children needed protection from all those things he and Oz knew way too much about. Xander realized he'd derailed himself from his own rant and sank back down onto the deck steps.
"Never mind me, how do you do it? Believe in keeping him safe?"
There was a shuffle as Oz left the hammock and sat next to him, their shoulders almost touching as they looked out into the darkness.
"I don't believe. I just do my best. Tell him what I think will help, but not too much to scare him. And I hope, often, that he won't see what we did. Especially what you saw, after I left. Heard it got a lot worse."
Xander nodded, acknowledging the truth in that simple statement. "Oh, it did." He left it there, unwilling to delve into his version of the events of almost two years ago. Thinking about them made a lot more than his eye ache.
"I can tell you don't want to talk about it now," Oz stated, "but when you do, I'll be here."
It was the second time a declaration like that had been made. This was getting weirder by the minute, and Xander really needed to know something. "What, exactly, are you getting out of all this? Me showing up, being forced on you by your ex-girlfriend..."
Oz cut him off, "Not forced. I told her you were welcome here."
"But why? We were never best buds, so I guess I'm just not too sure about your motivation."
Xander felt Oz shifting to face him, and thought about doing the same but didn't. This was part of the Pandora's box he should have left alone. There were too many variables, too many possibilities, none of which made much sense and many of which could hurt. He didn't want any more hurt.
"Willow talks about you a lot. Worries. I remember you very differently than you are now." Oz paused, twisting his hands a little in the first sign of nerves Xander could ever recall him displaying. He stared at the unconscious movement, unwilling to meet Oz's eyes and completely at a loss as to where this might be going. Wanting, maybe, for Oz to touch him again, like he had that morning. Not understanding this attraction to a man who was a virtual stranger, despite their shared history.
"Look at me, Xander. Please." Xander shivered. He couldn't have said no to that plea if he'd wanted to, and when his gaze lifted he was startled by the emotion on Oz's normally dispassionate face. "I'm not sure why, but it was important to me that you come. I can help you. I want to help you."
He was stunned. Of all the things Oz might have said, Xander never would have come up with that. And even if he admitted to needing help, which he was far from doing, why Oz? Before he could drum up a suitable reply, there were lips, warm and moving carefully but deliberately on his own. A hand crept behind his neck, pulling them closer together as Oz's tongue begged entry. With a quiet moan Xander opened his mouth, feeling confusion recede and fire take its place as the kiss deepened, starting a burn somewhere dark in him, a place he'd been certain got buried along with Sunnydale. Exploring Oz, the inside of Oz, was like discovering the joy of chocolate all over again. He tasted sweet but powerful, all cinnamon and heat and salt.
They broke apart at the same time, Oz running his fingers once through Xander's hair before sitting back. Xander had no idea how Oz could look so calm after a kiss like that, a long, wet, amazing man-kiss, and since when did he enjoy those so much? He sensed the distance between them now keenly, as though the kiss had created some kind of tenuous connection, and Xander felt something snap at that thought. There should be no connection.
There was an attempt then to shut down, there really was. But Oz's half-smile could not be brushed off so easily. He, Xander, had put it there. It was a matter of pride. Maybe some tiny freedoms, here in Oregon and away from the Cleveland Hellmouth, could be permitted. For just a little while.
Oz unfolded himself from the stairs and stood. "See you in the morning." It was not a question. And then he was gone, into the house, leaving Xander alone on the deck. It seemed a lot of their conversations were destined to end with Oz walking away. But that was ok. Xander didn't feel like there was much left to say tonight.
He turned his face to the sky and thought he could feel the fingers of Jesse and Spike and Anya fluttering against his cheeks as the wind blew, touching and giving him grace for just one precious moment. Sure he'd stay a bit longer, following his often questionable instincts. It didn't really mean anything though. Not yet.
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no subject
Date: 2004-03-17 06:14 am (UTC)Now that it was dark and they was no buffer
Niced timing -- I was just thinking how well Paddy functions as a buffer character. The moments of tension that descend when Xander and Oz are alone are almost startling given the playful nature of the scenes in which Paddy whows up.
His own broken soul. Which was not up for discussion.
Sad that Xander gets it and doesn't want to get it.
I really thought the confrontation about Oz's recalcitrance worked well. Xander's past the stage of just seeing it as cool or envying Oz for his demeanor, and wants give-and-take.
I remember you very differently than you are now.
Smart line -- made me think and realize with some surprise how very much Xander has changed since Oz was in the narrative. This angle that they have a history and yet have changed so much that they're strangers to one another provides an intriguing depth to even their simple interactions.
as the kiss deepened, starting a burn somewhere dark in him, a place he'd been certain got buried along with Sunnydale.
Effective and so poignant.
Beautiful through and through in two later passages in particular -- Xander's unexpected thought about the tiny freedoms of this place and being with Oz, and the aching yet comforting feeling of the blessings of Xander's dead in the last paragraph.
Excellent chapter.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-17 10:33 am (UTC)This is a fine, fine compliment and I'm so incredibly grateful.
Sad that Xander gets it and doesn't want to get it.
I'm glad that point came across in this part. I really don't want a black/white Xander--either one that's oblivious to his own emotions, or so mired in them he can't function. I want a Xander who makes conscious choices to deal/not deal. Maybe a little dysfunctional with the not WANTING to deal, but still able to choose.
I greatly appreciate the detailed feedback, it helps me see the writing from a reader's perspective instead of always from my own. Thank you again. And I think I might have part 6 up later today, as the muse is on a roll.