BtVS/Tin Man: Porcelain
Title: Porcelain
Series: Long Way Down
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: BtVS, Tin Man
Character(s): DG, Oz
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The last time DG went on a hunting party she didn't find anything. She's not hunting this time. This time, she already has what she's looking for.
Length: ~760 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate.
Notes: Written for the August 2012 twistedshorts fic-a-day ficathon. It almost killed me, but I had fun, and I was able to get a few more stories in for this series :)
AN2: For all stories in the series, see the master post.
§§§
Porcelain
by Vashti
“So, we have a direction?” Oz asked, looking up from the map that he and DG had been studying. When she nodded, he tugged it out of her hands and began to fold. What had started as a brief stop to get themselves reoriented after being dropped off by DG’s travel storm had turned into a late breakfast. It had been quiet, but not uncomfortable.
While they were eating DG had caught herself thinking of another man whose silences radiated presence. She’d smiled, remembering how different her last trip through the forests of the OZ with Wyatt Cain had been. There’d been more of them-her and Cain and Glitch-as-Ambrose, her sister and her parents and her robot parents, and Jeb Cain with a host of guards ghosting through the forest around them. Though it had ostensibly been a hunting expedition (that everyone had assured her would either be snagging dinner or releasing it back into the forest) they’d been making too much noise to snag anything except sunshine through the trees. Every now and again she’d catch the Tin Man’s eye, and he’d shake his head at them all, exasperated and amused in turns.
Only a few days later Oz had come over the rainbow…or under it, really. His van was still parked in the garage with the other royal vehicles. Not long after that, Cain had accepted the outpost position on one of the OZ’s more volatile borders. He’d be gone for long months that the short weeks of his return couldn’t compensate for.
A hand broke into DG’s thoughts. “Are you ready to go?”
Smiling, DG let Oz help her from the ground. It was always something of a shock experiencing the effortless strength that came from his being a werewolf. Standing, DG squeezed the hard, lean muscles of his upper arm.
“My, what big arms you have!” She knew the muscle had been formed from years of pulling taut bass strings and lifting amps as his own roadie, and not from being a werewolf-but she couldn’t resist.
Oz pulled her close to his chest. “The better to hold you, my dear,” he said into her ear.
She giggled as she wrapped her other arm around his neck, bringing herself closer.
“Are you sure you want to go right back to the castle?”
His words rumbled and moved against her stomach and chest, and though the answer she really wanted to give was ‘No’, she nodded. “Before Jeb sends out a search party.”
“You don’t want the Tin Men to find us in a compromising position?” His breath was warm against her jaw and ear, pushing her hair as he spoke.
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I think I already am.”
DG chuckled, the sound coming from somewhere deep.
“Or maybe you’re the one tempting me.”
Laughing, DG pulled away from Oz, albeit reluctantly. There was a brief tightening in his arms, hinting at an additional strength his years as a musician couldn’t account for, before he let her go. Mostly. His hand slid down her arm until his fingers caught in hers. Tangling them together, he brought their hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
DG blushed. “Oz, I already said yes.”
“Every day. I want you to say yes every day.” Every part of him-the lines of his face, the tension in his shoulders, his legs braced as if for an assault, his slow and even breathing, everything-spoke of his grave sincerity. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this, though he tried to be less intense about it in public.
She nodded. “Only if you do.”
Oz drew her near. “You have my permission to spike my dinner with silver if I don’t.”
DG burst into laughter, head thrown back, flinging terrified birds out of the trees and into the sky. Seeing them, DG grinned and said, “It’s a good thing we’re not going hunting.”
“Haven’t we already found what we were looking?”
Leaning over, she kissed her fiancé on the cheek. Together, they broke camp.
Fin[ite]
Series: Long Way Down
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: BtVS, Tin Man
Character(s): DG, Oz
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The last time DG went on a hunting party she didn't find anything. She's not hunting this time. This time, she already has what she's looking for.
Length: ~760 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate.
Notes: Written for the August 2012 twistedshorts fic-a-day ficathon. It almost killed me, but I had fun, and I was able to get a few more stories in for this series :)
AN2: For all stories in the series, see the master post.
§§§
Porcelain
by Vashti
“So, we have a direction?” Oz asked, looking up from the map that he and DG had been studying. When she nodded, he tugged it out of her hands and began to fold. What had started as a brief stop to get themselves reoriented after being dropped off by DG’s travel storm had turned into a late breakfast. It had been quiet, but not uncomfortable.
While they were eating DG had caught herself thinking of another man whose silences radiated presence. She’d smiled, remembering how different her last trip through the forests of the OZ with Wyatt Cain had been. There’d been more of them-her and Cain and Glitch-as-Ambrose, her sister and her parents and her robot parents, and Jeb Cain with a host of guards ghosting through the forest around them. Though it had ostensibly been a hunting expedition (that everyone had assured her would either be snagging dinner or releasing it back into the forest) they’d been making too much noise to snag anything except sunshine through the trees. Every now and again she’d catch the Tin Man’s eye, and he’d shake his head at them all, exasperated and amused in turns.
Only a few days later Oz had come over the rainbow…or under it, really. His van was still parked in the garage with the other royal vehicles. Not long after that, Cain had accepted the outpost position on one of the OZ’s more volatile borders. He’d be gone for long months that the short weeks of his return couldn’t compensate for.
A hand broke into DG’s thoughts. “Are you ready to go?”
Smiling, DG let Oz help her from the ground. It was always something of a shock experiencing the effortless strength that came from his being a werewolf. Standing, DG squeezed the hard, lean muscles of his upper arm.
“My, what big arms you have!” She knew the muscle had been formed from years of pulling taut bass strings and lifting amps as his own roadie, and not from being a werewolf-but she couldn’t resist.
Oz pulled her close to his chest. “The better to hold you, my dear,” he said into her ear.
She giggled as she wrapped her other arm around his neck, bringing herself closer.
“Are you sure you want to go right back to the castle?”
His words rumbled and moved against her stomach and chest, and though the answer she really wanted to give was ‘No’, she nodded. “Before Jeb sends out a search party.”
“You don’t want the Tin Men to find us in a compromising position?” His breath was warm against her jaw and ear, pushing her hair as he spoke.
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I think I already am.”
DG chuckled, the sound coming from somewhere deep.
“Or maybe you’re the one tempting me.”
Laughing, DG pulled away from Oz, albeit reluctantly. There was a brief tightening in his arms, hinting at an additional strength his years as a musician couldn’t account for, before he let her go. Mostly. His hand slid down her arm until his fingers caught in hers. Tangling them together, he brought their hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
DG blushed. “Oz, I already said yes.”
“Every day. I want you to say yes every day.” Every part of him-the lines of his face, the tension in his shoulders, his legs braced as if for an assault, his slow and even breathing, everything-spoke of his grave sincerity. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this, though he tried to be less intense about it in public.
She nodded. “Only if you do.”
Oz drew her near. “You have my permission to spike my dinner with silver if I don’t.”
DG burst into laughter, head thrown back, flinging terrified birds out of the trees and into the sky. Seeing them, DG grinned and said, “It’s a good thing we’re not going hunting.”
“Haven’t we already found what we were looking?”
Leaning over, she kissed her fiancé on the cheek. Together, they broke camp.
Fin[ite]