August 16 - Leave Room for Tomorrow
Title: Leave Room for Tomorrow
Series: Pack a Smile
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: Mercy Thompson Series
Character(s): Bran Cornick, Sage Carhardt, Oz, Asil Moreno
Rating: PG
Summary: Trouble is brewing while Sage and Oz go to visit her hothouse flower.
Length: ~980 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate. Half my headcanon for the fusion version of this verse comes from kerrykhat, akat and avamclean.
Notes: see end.
Bran hung up with his son and frowned. He had assigned Sage the task of showing Oz around Aspen Creek. Their last stop would be his home which, if he had to guess, would mean he'd be seeing them by late morning. He could have called Sage in, have her bring the pup directly to the house, but Bran needed to work through this puzzle for a while before he confronted the boy.
A Slayer and a forcibly turned werewolf both lying about the rogue who attacked him. The rogue wasn't a relation to the Slayer. And although the Slayer was obviously protecting the rogue, she supposedly wasn't willing to go to war over him. But she was willing to use humans as a buffer between herself and the one sent to take care of the rogue. None of the information he had on this Slayer pointed to her having gone rogue herself. She seemed, at times, to be more upstanding than the Watcher's Council that had birthed her.
Then why this aberration in her character?
Bran wandered into his study and began pulling together what he would need to light a fire.
***
Behind the wheel of her car, Sage threw a glance over at Oz. "You don't mind if we make a pit-stop, do you Ozzie-love? I have a hothouse flower that needs some attending."
More or less over both Sage's beauty and her possibly genetic predeliction for terms of endearment, Oz shrugged. Everything about Aspen Creek was deeply overwhelming. Oz found himself falling back to his default position of easy-going nonchalance. It helped that Sage talked enough for both of them. Willow could have been this person, could become this person, when she finally became comfor--
Oz slammed the door on those thoughts hard enough that even Sage looked over at him. "You alright there, sweetums?" Her concern and confusion were genuine.
Which prompted Oz to answer her honestly. "Mostly. Just trying to make with the happy thoughts."
Sage hummed in agreement. "Lot of us here in the Marrok's pack have lost our happy place and don't know where to find it." Smiling, she added, "Some of us have even misplaced our marbles, and others are only playing pretend."
"Thank you."
Sage glanced over at him again. "What for, sugar?
"Helping me find a happy place," he said, smiling a little.
"Oh dear..." Faint color stained her cheeks as she chuckled. "I do hope we get to keep you."
***
"Hello, hello!" Sage called as they entered the greenhouse.
The scent of so many hothouse flowers, especially the out-of-season roses, was nearly overpowering. Oz sneezed. Then sneezed again.
Sage, standing a little ahead of him, half-turned to him and laughed. "You alright there, sugar plum?"
"I am. My nose is still in recovery, though."
She laughed again. "First time always packs a bit of a whammy. You'll get used to it."
"Not if I say he won't," a melodious masculine voice said as it approached them. "What stray have you brought to my hothouse now, Sage?"
"I promise I've had all my shots," Oz said with a little smile as he watched for the owner of the voice.
The sense of him, or maybe that was the sense of his wolf?, preceded him so that Oz took an involuntary step backwards. Not entirely used to his new instincts, his eyes had fallen naturally to his feet. Now he found it difficult to raise them.
"Asil! Play nice!" Sage protested.
"I do not knowing the meaning of these words," Asil said, his musical accent thickening into something distinctly Spanish.
Sage huffed. "I bet you know their meaning in six languages, and half of them are dead."
"...Perhaps. That does not change the fact that I do not know this wolf that has invaded my territory." There was a touch of growl to his voice.
"Well if you'd let me make introductions you would know that this is Oz, or Daniel Osbourne--"
"'Oz'? Like the make believe land from Carroll?" Asil asked, voice laced with incredulity.
"Sometimes," Oz said, lips tilting into what might be a smile.
Asil ignored him. "But why is he in my greenhouse?"
Oz could hear Sage's smile when she said, "I brought him to make you jealous, of course. And I see it worked."
The pressure Oz felt to keep his eyes on the ground immediately lessened. He doubted he could meet Asil's eyes directly, anymore than he could Charles or the Marrok when he was being scary (a strong, Sunnydale-honed, sense of self-preservation kept him from trying even when the Marrok felt like a fellow student) but at least now he could look up comfortably.
"Wow."
Asil, it turned out, was somewhat bigger than the Marrok but smaller than Charles. Then again, Oz didn't know many men who were as big or bigger than Charles. He was, however, as beautiful a man as Oz had ever seen in his musically-driven roamings across the country. It was like he'd been formed by the sun itself. Devon would have hated him.
"I feel really..." Brows wrinkled, Oz looked down at his new and still creased clothes, his pale skin and his feet encased in sneakers that could double as lightweight hiking boots. He looked up, eyes going back to Asil and then to Sage. "...really underattractive. You've never tried to swallow the sun, have you?"
Asil snorted. "Fine. He may stay." He turned and quickly began to walk away. "But I make no promises for tomorrow."
"Am I still welcome?" Sage called out.
Asil made an inarticulate sound that still managed to convey that she was, indeed, welcome.
Throwing a quick glance at Sage, who was grinning, Oz called after the other man, "Thank you." He turned to Sage. "You were right. You do get used to scent."
Eyes closed, Oz took a deep breath and sighed.
Fin[ite]
Notes: Oz's non sequitur is a misquote of a compliment a former coworker received after coming home from a week spent in the Caribbean
Notes2: Sleep is a glorious thing. Sleeeeep.
Series: Pack a Smile
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: Mercy Thompson Series
Character(s): Bran Cornick, Sage Carhardt, Oz, Asil Moreno
Rating: PG
Summary: Trouble is brewing while Sage and Oz go to visit her hothouse flower.
Length: ~980 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate. Half my headcanon for the fusion version of this verse comes from kerrykhat, akat and avamclean.
Notes: see end.
Bran hung up with his son and frowned. He had assigned Sage the task of showing Oz around Aspen Creek. Their last stop would be his home which, if he had to guess, would mean he'd be seeing them by late morning. He could have called Sage in, have her bring the pup directly to the house, but Bran needed to work through this puzzle for a while before he confronted the boy.
A Slayer and a forcibly turned werewolf both lying about the rogue who attacked him. The rogue wasn't a relation to the Slayer. And although the Slayer was obviously protecting the rogue, she supposedly wasn't willing to go to war over him. But she was willing to use humans as a buffer between herself and the one sent to take care of the rogue. None of the information he had on this Slayer pointed to her having gone rogue herself. She seemed, at times, to be more upstanding than the Watcher's Council that had birthed her.
Then why this aberration in her character?
Bran wandered into his study and began pulling together what he would need to light a fire.
***
Behind the wheel of her car, Sage threw a glance over at Oz. "You don't mind if we make a pit-stop, do you Ozzie-love? I have a hothouse flower that needs some attending."
More or less over both Sage's beauty and her possibly genetic predeliction for terms of endearment, Oz shrugged. Everything about Aspen Creek was deeply overwhelming. Oz found himself falling back to his default position of easy-going nonchalance. It helped that Sage talked enough for both of them. Willow could have been this person, could become this person, when she finally became comfor--
Oz slammed the door on those thoughts hard enough that even Sage looked over at him. "You alright there, sweetums?" Her concern and confusion were genuine.
Which prompted Oz to answer her honestly. "Mostly. Just trying to make with the happy thoughts."
Sage hummed in agreement. "Lot of us here in the Marrok's pack have lost our happy place and don't know where to find it." Smiling, she added, "Some of us have even misplaced our marbles, and others are only playing pretend."
"Thank you."
Sage glanced over at him again. "What for, sugar?
"Helping me find a happy place," he said, smiling a little.
"Oh dear..." Faint color stained her cheeks as she chuckled. "I do hope we get to keep you."
***
"Hello, hello!" Sage called as they entered the greenhouse.
The scent of so many hothouse flowers, especially the out-of-season roses, was nearly overpowering. Oz sneezed. Then sneezed again.
Sage, standing a little ahead of him, half-turned to him and laughed. "You alright there, sugar plum?"
"I am. My nose is still in recovery, though."
She laughed again. "First time always packs a bit of a whammy. You'll get used to it."
"Not if I say he won't," a melodious masculine voice said as it approached them. "What stray have you brought to my hothouse now, Sage?"
"I promise I've had all my shots," Oz said with a little smile as he watched for the owner of the voice.
The sense of him, or maybe that was the sense of his wolf?, preceded him so that Oz took an involuntary step backwards. Not entirely used to his new instincts, his eyes had fallen naturally to his feet. Now he found it difficult to raise them.
"Asil! Play nice!" Sage protested.
"I do not knowing the meaning of these words," Asil said, his musical accent thickening into something distinctly Spanish.
Sage huffed. "I bet you know their meaning in six languages, and half of them are dead."
"...Perhaps. That does not change the fact that I do not know this wolf that has invaded my territory." There was a touch of growl to his voice.
"Well if you'd let me make introductions you would know that this is Oz, or Daniel Osbourne--"
"'Oz'? Like the make believe land from Carroll?" Asil asked, voice laced with incredulity.
"Sometimes," Oz said, lips tilting into what might be a smile.
Asil ignored him. "But why is he in my greenhouse?"
Oz could hear Sage's smile when she said, "I brought him to make you jealous, of course. And I see it worked."
The pressure Oz felt to keep his eyes on the ground immediately lessened. He doubted he could meet Asil's eyes directly, anymore than he could Charles or the Marrok when he was being scary (a strong, Sunnydale-honed, sense of self-preservation kept him from trying even when the Marrok felt like a fellow student) but at least now he could look up comfortably.
"Wow."
Asil, it turned out, was somewhat bigger than the Marrok but smaller than Charles. Then again, Oz didn't know many men who were as big or bigger than Charles. He was, however, as beautiful a man as Oz had ever seen in his musically-driven roamings across the country. It was like he'd been formed by the sun itself. Devon would have hated him.
"I feel really..." Brows wrinkled, Oz looked down at his new and still creased clothes, his pale skin and his feet encased in sneakers that could double as lightweight hiking boots. He looked up, eyes going back to Asil and then to Sage. "...really underattractive. You've never tried to swallow the sun, have you?"
Asil snorted. "Fine. He may stay." He turned and quickly began to walk away. "But I make no promises for tomorrow."
"Am I still welcome?" Sage called out.
Asil made an inarticulate sound that still managed to convey that she was, indeed, welcome.
Throwing a quick glance at Sage, who was grinning, Oz called after the other man, "Thank you." He turned to Sage. "You were right. You do get used to scent."
Eyes closed, Oz took a deep breath and sighed.
Fin[ite]
Notes: Oz's non sequitur is a misquote of a compliment a former coworker received after coming home from a week spent in the Caribbean
Notes2: Sleep is a glorious thing. Sleeeeep.