Xander/Oz ficathon
Title: Harmless Wolf Fun
Author: dessert_first
Pairing: Xander/Oz
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Set in Season Two, a couple of weeks after “Phases.”
A/N: This story is for sathinks, who requested Xander thinking hyena thoughts and Oz in a werewolfy frame of mind for the Oz/Xander ficathon on year_of_oz. Again, my apologies for posting late. Thanks tesla321 for patient audiencing and generous encouragement in my times of doubt.
Harmless Wolf Fun
It was a whole thing, for a while, but eventually Xander stopped craving pork products all the time. Pig didn’t really taste the same out of a package, anyway. He’d tried all kinds: ham, Canadian bacon, American bacon, plain pork rinds, barbecue-flavored pork rinds, pickled pig’s feet, headcheese... if it came from a pig, he craved it.
And melons, for some reason.
He knew it weirded Buffy and Willow out, so he tried to confine his more questionable snacking to times when he knew they wouldn’t be likely to appear, like at his house after school, preferably while his family was absorbed in NASCAR racing, as an extra precaution.
And then there was the other whole thing, where sometimes he tended to... well, want to sniff people. In fact, whenever Ms. Rossi would lean down to place his Geology pop quiz results on his desk, Xander would have to dig his nails into his palm to keep from sticking his face in her cleavage for a good, hard snuffle. He did manage to get a decent whiff of her hair: coconut-scented shampoo. Nice. A little too clean, though.
Everyone was a little too clean. Xander’s sense of smell wasn’t as keen as he remembered it being when he was possessed, but he could still differentiate deodorant from girl, and in his opinion Buffy used entirely too much of the former, tragically covering up the latter. Willow also went a tad too heavy on the grooming and beauty products, her perfume a little too sweet and girly, managing to cover up any hint of actual girl.
Still, Xander tried his best to keep himself from haunting the library during Buffy’s training sessions, hoping she’d work up a decent sweat, and from walking a little too close to her during patrols after she’d staked a vamp or two. Or, if he did, from being too obvious about it.
He was coping, that was all. It was only natural things should take a little getting used to after animal spirit possession, thank you very much. It wasn’t the kind of thing he really felt comfortable discussing with Giles--who smelled interestingly tweedy with a hint of manly aftershave and books and man, not that Xander noticed--but certainly somewhere in that library there had to be a book that explained Xander’s recent... issues.
It was all perfectly normal.
So much, much further down the line, when Xander had an extra year of experience and maturity and another possession racked up, he wasn’t surprised to find Oz guiltily staring at a rack of beef jerky in the Circle K. Xander was prepared. He knew exactly how to handle this.
"Hey, man," he said, sidling up carefully, keeping his tone soothing.
"Xander." There were dark circles under Oz’s eyes.
"Feeling the need for some munchies?"
A sigh. Oz rubbed a hand across his eyes and scrubbed at his unnaturally dark hair. "Yeah," he finally admitted. "I don't normally even like meat. I've just had this craving lately, for something a little..."
"Raw?" Xander was nothing if not helpful.
"Um, yeah, actually. I mean, I've been trying to keep it together for Willow, but..." He seemed to tune out briefly. "Did you ever notice how much perfume she wears?"
“You know, I totally get that, and there’s still really no good way to answer." Xander grabbed a candy bar and tilted his head toward the door. "Look, what do you say we get outta here?”
Oz bought eight packets of Slim Jims on the way out.
---
They ended up back at Oz’s house. It was nearby, it was quiet, and it was blissfully free of, well, Harrises.
So Xander’s vote was a given.
Oz seemed to have set up some sort of rehearsal space-slash-base of operations in his basement. The trooped down there with a bag of blue corn tortilla chips and tall brown glasses of unfiltered apple juice Oz's mom handed them on her way out the door. Xander had just gotten a fleeting impression of red hair and tie-dye and a cheery "Don't set the house on fire!" as she breezed out. Tortilla chips in hand, Xander bypassed the bubblegum-pink beanbag chairs and perched on the couch next to Oz, who was glumly considering the beef sticks.
“Look,” Xander said, and stopped. Oz’s clear green gaze swung in his direction and sort of stayed there. It was a little unnerving, but kinda neat too, like he finally had the elusive Oz’s attention, an Oz who really needed the kind of help Xander was equipped to give. “That stuff I said the other day, about understanding the whole inner beast thing. I really meant that.”
A blink, then comprehension dawned. “Oh, you mean what you told us before you went off to talk to Larry?”
Xander choked on his tortilla chip. “That’s--really not relevant right now.”
Oz frowned. “But I thought--”
“What is with the Spanish Inquisition? I’m trying to have a supportive conversation about uncontrollable animal urges and you’re all about the tangents, Mister!” Xander groped for the apple juice to wash down the chip fragment stuck in his throat. He was a man of the world. He’d had two weeks to cope. Larry’s personal journey to self-knowledge--not that there was anything wrong with that--had nothing to do with Xander, no matter what any number of misguided football players might think. In fact, Xander was comfortable enough with his masculinity that he could celebrate Larry’s joyful embrace of his newly accepted sexuality, even if he wasn’t quite ready for any other kind of embrace from--
“Sorry,” Oz said. “Beef jerky?”
Oh, thank God in heaven.
---
The thing about beef jerky was, it was a manly kind of food, and therefore conducive to manliness. Oz kept dubiously eyeing the stuff, but Xander was more than ready for the artificially flavored goodness.
“You sure you don’t want any?” Xander munched away.
“Nah, you go ahead. It doesn’t really... smell right.”
Xander nodded. “That was the thing with the pig.” He waved an arm at Oz’s expression. “Long story, largely unpleasant. And, uh, vivid. But the point is, you can’t buy packaged meat and expect it to hit the spot, beast-wise. I think it's the chemicals.”
Oz nodded distractedly. He seemed to be concentrating on... Oh. "Something smells really great." He frowned, looking around the basement, like the source might be lurking amongst the piles of sound equipment or the hand-painted drum set.
"Oh, yeah. Well, I'm sure once you get a little more used to the whole werewolf thing, you won't notice those things as much. For now, though, it's totally normal to be feeling the occasional uncontrollable urge, like--"
Oz's visual circuit of the room seemed to have ended on Xander. He edged closer. "Xander? What's that you're wearing?"
---
Perfectly normal. Xander was Oz's friend, and friends helped their friends out, right? So if a friend happened to be burying his face in the other friend's neck, that was okay, wasn't it? And if the friend then crawled into said friend's lap, well, that was okay too, right? It wasn't like he was hurting anyone. And if maybe the sniffing got a little intense in the spot just behind Xander's ear, well, that had to be an everyday kind of wolfy scent-marking thing. Xander patted awkwardly at Oz's back.
"Boy, it's funny how those predators are so big on the sniffing, huh? Yeah, I've been there, man. Totally normal." A warm, wet, rough swipe at his neck made him jump. "And, apparently, licking. A little licking, now and then, is, uh, is also totally normal; I do remember that."
Oz made a tiny questioning noise and settled himself more comfortably in Xander's lap.
"Sure, sniffing, and licking, that's just, you know, like, harmless wolf fun. Like saying 'hello,' but, uh, involving less words and more gestures and some sort of hierarchical--gyah! Okay, I'm pretty sure the groping is human."
A slight whine, and Oz backed off. His hair was mussed and he looked confused. "Sorry, man. Not sure what--" he paused for another sniff in the vicinity of Xander's neck. "You smell really, really good." He nuzzled into Xander's neck again, fingers scrabbling at the buttons of Xander's blue and yellow plaid shirt.
Xander was definitely ready to put a stop to this as soon as he... was ready to put a stop to it. It was definitely of the weird, but Oz felt great, actually, sitting in Xander's lap, knees braced on either side of Xander's thighs, one wiry arm wrapped around Xander's neck, the other hand wandering inside Xander's shirt. Feeling really spectacular, kinda like that thing Cordelia did when she--
Whoa.
Xander stood up so fast he accidentally dumped Oz on the floor.
---
Even though blue corn tortilla chips just weren't as high on the manly food scale as beef jerky, they tasted pretty good. Plus they gave Xander something to do with his hands. He fiddled with a chip, examined it, popped it in his mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. So. That was... so. "We should probably never speak of this," he blurted. And wondered how much self-damage one could conceivably wreak with a tortilla chip.
"Probably not." Oz sat next to him on the couch, staring into his glass like it held unfathomable secrets along with the dregs of his apple juice.
They both sat there for a while, mutely staring at the juice, until Xander cracked. "The thing is, Willow really likes you. And, okay, I have no idea what is going on with Cordelia, but maybe we've been thinking there's nothing when there's actually something, and if there is, then... then I want to give it a chance. You know?"
Oz looked up from his juice and nodded. "It's cool, man."
"Yeah, well, if you ever want to talk... Or, okay, maybe not. But if you ever want to share meaningful silences with someone about the whole wolf thing, I'm definitely your guy. Although I'll probably, ah, wear more deodorant next time. Or something."
"That might be wise." Oz frowned at the remaining sticks of beef jerky. "I think there's some ginger marinated tofu in the kitchen. You wanna go grab a sandwich?"
"Uh, sure. You know, you're ah... you're really good at that whole--"
One coppery eyebrow lifted. "Thought we weren't gonna talk about that?"
"No, right, of course. We're so not going to talk about that." His hand working almost independent of his will, Xander reached over and smoothed Oz's rumpled hair back into place, fingers lingering for a second in the soft strands at the back. Oz's roots were showing, a softer color matching his eyebrows.
Oz looked up at him, and the corners of his mouth curled up the slightest bit. "Thanks," he said.
Xander blinked, pleased. "You are so very welcome."
They trooped upstairs, where sandwiches awaited.
Author: dessert_first
Pairing: Xander/Oz
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Set in Season Two, a couple of weeks after “Phases.”
A/N: This story is for sathinks, who requested Xander thinking hyena thoughts and Oz in a werewolfy frame of mind for the Oz/Xander ficathon on year_of_oz. Again, my apologies for posting late. Thanks tesla321 for patient audiencing and generous encouragement in my times of doubt.
Harmless Wolf Fun
It was a whole thing, for a while, but eventually Xander stopped craving pork products all the time. Pig didn’t really taste the same out of a package, anyway. He’d tried all kinds: ham, Canadian bacon, American bacon, plain pork rinds, barbecue-flavored pork rinds, pickled pig’s feet, headcheese... if it came from a pig, he craved it.
And melons, for some reason.
He knew it weirded Buffy and Willow out, so he tried to confine his more questionable snacking to times when he knew they wouldn’t be likely to appear, like at his house after school, preferably while his family was absorbed in NASCAR racing, as an extra precaution.
And then there was the other whole thing, where sometimes he tended to... well, want to sniff people. In fact, whenever Ms. Rossi would lean down to place his Geology pop quiz results on his desk, Xander would have to dig his nails into his palm to keep from sticking his face in her cleavage for a good, hard snuffle. He did manage to get a decent whiff of her hair: coconut-scented shampoo. Nice. A little too clean, though.
Everyone was a little too clean. Xander’s sense of smell wasn’t as keen as he remembered it being when he was possessed, but he could still differentiate deodorant from girl, and in his opinion Buffy used entirely too much of the former, tragically covering up the latter. Willow also went a tad too heavy on the grooming and beauty products, her perfume a little too sweet and girly, managing to cover up any hint of actual girl.
Still, Xander tried his best to keep himself from haunting the library during Buffy’s training sessions, hoping she’d work up a decent sweat, and from walking a little too close to her during patrols after she’d staked a vamp or two. Or, if he did, from being too obvious about it.
He was coping, that was all. It was only natural things should take a little getting used to after animal spirit possession, thank you very much. It wasn’t the kind of thing he really felt comfortable discussing with Giles--who smelled interestingly tweedy with a hint of manly aftershave and books and man, not that Xander noticed--but certainly somewhere in that library there had to be a book that explained Xander’s recent... issues.
It was all perfectly normal.
So much, much further down the line, when Xander had an extra year of experience and maturity and another possession racked up, he wasn’t surprised to find Oz guiltily staring at a rack of beef jerky in the Circle K. Xander was prepared. He knew exactly how to handle this.
"Hey, man," he said, sidling up carefully, keeping his tone soothing.
"Xander." There were dark circles under Oz’s eyes.
"Feeling the need for some munchies?"
A sigh. Oz rubbed a hand across his eyes and scrubbed at his unnaturally dark hair. "Yeah," he finally admitted. "I don't normally even like meat. I've just had this craving lately, for something a little..."
"Raw?" Xander was nothing if not helpful.
"Um, yeah, actually. I mean, I've been trying to keep it together for Willow, but..." He seemed to tune out briefly. "Did you ever notice how much perfume she wears?"
“You know, I totally get that, and there’s still really no good way to answer." Xander grabbed a candy bar and tilted his head toward the door. "Look, what do you say we get outta here?”
Oz bought eight packets of Slim Jims on the way out.
---
They ended up back at Oz’s house. It was nearby, it was quiet, and it was blissfully free of, well, Harrises.
So Xander’s vote was a given.
Oz seemed to have set up some sort of rehearsal space-slash-base of operations in his basement. The trooped down there with a bag of blue corn tortilla chips and tall brown glasses of unfiltered apple juice Oz's mom handed them on her way out the door. Xander had just gotten a fleeting impression of red hair and tie-dye and a cheery "Don't set the house on fire!" as she breezed out. Tortilla chips in hand, Xander bypassed the bubblegum-pink beanbag chairs and perched on the couch next to Oz, who was glumly considering the beef sticks.
“Look,” Xander said, and stopped. Oz’s clear green gaze swung in his direction and sort of stayed there. It was a little unnerving, but kinda neat too, like he finally had the elusive Oz’s attention, an Oz who really needed the kind of help Xander was equipped to give. “That stuff I said the other day, about understanding the whole inner beast thing. I really meant that.”
A blink, then comprehension dawned. “Oh, you mean what you told us before you went off to talk to Larry?”
Xander choked on his tortilla chip. “That’s--really not relevant right now.”
Oz frowned. “But I thought--”
“What is with the Spanish Inquisition? I’m trying to have a supportive conversation about uncontrollable animal urges and you’re all about the tangents, Mister!” Xander groped for the apple juice to wash down the chip fragment stuck in his throat. He was a man of the world. He’d had two weeks to cope. Larry’s personal journey to self-knowledge--not that there was anything wrong with that--had nothing to do with Xander, no matter what any number of misguided football players might think. In fact, Xander was comfortable enough with his masculinity that he could celebrate Larry’s joyful embrace of his newly accepted sexuality, even if he wasn’t quite ready for any other kind of embrace from--
“Sorry,” Oz said. “Beef jerky?”
Oh, thank God in heaven.
---
The thing about beef jerky was, it was a manly kind of food, and therefore conducive to manliness. Oz kept dubiously eyeing the stuff, but Xander was more than ready for the artificially flavored goodness.
“You sure you don’t want any?” Xander munched away.
“Nah, you go ahead. It doesn’t really... smell right.”
Xander nodded. “That was the thing with the pig.” He waved an arm at Oz’s expression. “Long story, largely unpleasant. And, uh, vivid. But the point is, you can’t buy packaged meat and expect it to hit the spot, beast-wise. I think it's the chemicals.”
Oz nodded distractedly. He seemed to be concentrating on... Oh. "Something smells really great." He frowned, looking around the basement, like the source might be lurking amongst the piles of sound equipment or the hand-painted drum set.
"Oh, yeah. Well, I'm sure once you get a little more used to the whole werewolf thing, you won't notice those things as much. For now, though, it's totally normal to be feeling the occasional uncontrollable urge, like--"
Oz's visual circuit of the room seemed to have ended on Xander. He edged closer. "Xander? What's that you're wearing?"
---
Perfectly normal. Xander was Oz's friend, and friends helped their friends out, right? So if a friend happened to be burying his face in the other friend's neck, that was okay, wasn't it? And if the friend then crawled into said friend's lap, well, that was okay too, right? It wasn't like he was hurting anyone. And if maybe the sniffing got a little intense in the spot just behind Xander's ear, well, that had to be an everyday kind of wolfy scent-marking thing. Xander patted awkwardly at Oz's back.
"Boy, it's funny how those predators are so big on the sniffing, huh? Yeah, I've been there, man. Totally normal." A warm, wet, rough swipe at his neck made him jump. "And, apparently, licking. A little licking, now and then, is, uh, is also totally normal; I do remember that."
Oz made a tiny questioning noise and settled himself more comfortably in Xander's lap.
"Sure, sniffing, and licking, that's just, you know, like, harmless wolf fun. Like saying 'hello,' but, uh, involving less words and more gestures and some sort of hierarchical--gyah! Okay, I'm pretty sure the groping is human."
A slight whine, and Oz backed off. His hair was mussed and he looked confused. "Sorry, man. Not sure what--" he paused for another sniff in the vicinity of Xander's neck. "You smell really, really good." He nuzzled into Xander's neck again, fingers scrabbling at the buttons of Xander's blue and yellow plaid shirt.
Xander was definitely ready to put a stop to this as soon as he... was ready to put a stop to it. It was definitely of the weird, but Oz felt great, actually, sitting in Xander's lap, knees braced on either side of Xander's thighs, one wiry arm wrapped around Xander's neck, the other hand wandering inside Xander's shirt. Feeling really spectacular, kinda like that thing Cordelia did when she--
Whoa.
Xander stood up so fast he accidentally dumped Oz on the floor.
---
Even though blue corn tortilla chips just weren't as high on the manly food scale as beef jerky, they tasted pretty good. Plus they gave Xander something to do with his hands. He fiddled with a chip, examined it, popped it in his mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. So. That was... so. "We should probably never speak of this," he blurted. And wondered how much self-damage one could conceivably wreak with a tortilla chip.
"Probably not." Oz sat next to him on the couch, staring into his glass like it held unfathomable secrets along with the dregs of his apple juice.
They both sat there for a while, mutely staring at the juice, until Xander cracked. "The thing is, Willow really likes you. And, okay, I have no idea what is going on with Cordelia, but maybe we've been thinking there's nothing when there's actually something, and if there is, then... then I want to give it a chance. You know?"
Oz looked up from his juice and nodded. "It's cool, man."
"Yeah, well, if you ever want to talk... Or, okay, maybe not. But if you ever want to share meaningful silences with someone about the whole wolf thing, I'm definitely your guy. Although I'll probably, ah, wear more deodorant next time. Or something."
"That might be wise." Oz frowned at the remaining sticks of beef jerky. "I think there's some ginger marinated tofu in the kitchen. You wanna go grab a sandwich?"
"Uh, sure. You know, you're ah... you're really good at that whole--"
One coppery eyebrow lifted. "Thought we weren't gonna talk about that?"
"No, right, of course. We're so not going to talk about that." His hand working almost independent of his will, Xander reached over and smoothed Oz's rumpled hair back into place, fingers lingering for a second in the soft strands at the back. Oz's roots were showing, a softer color matching his eyebrows.
Oz looked up at him, and the corners of his mouth curled up the slightest bit. "Thanks," he said.
Xander blinked, pleased. "You are so very welcome."
They trooped upstairs, where sandwiches awaited.