DISCLAIMER:  I don't own 'em.  All the characters you recognize belong to someone who isn't me and are used without permission purely (!) for a little non-profit personal entertainment.

Codes/rating/warnings:  Xander/Oz, NC-17.  Alcohol and drug use.

You have been warned.
 

Water For Oxen, Wine For Kings
by Melissa

A drink precedes a story.
             -- Irish Proverb
 
 

"So, uh, what's up?" Xander said, reluctance in every word.  God, he was uncomfortable.

"Uh, not much.  You know," Oz replied with a casual shrug.

"So, um, Oz - why don't you tell Xander all about that cool thing we heard today in science, you know, about how that guy worked out the temperature of Hell from all the stuff in the bible and found out it's supposed to be about six hundred degrees," Willow said brightly.

Oz looked nonplused.  "There was this guy who worked out the temperature in Hell from the bible and said it's supposed to be about six hundred degrees," he offered.

Xander blinked.  "Oh.  Cool."

There was a brief silence.  The three were sitting out on the lawn in front of the school, waiting for the bell to summon them back to class.  It had been Willow's idea.  Willow's *dumb* idea, Xander fumed.  What was the point in he and Oz trying to be friends again?  It was perfectly obvious - after everything that'd happened with him and Willow - that they'd never be able to look at each other the same again.

"So, how 'bout the weather?" Willow said, desperate enthusiasm in her voice.  "Really sunny, it's great, just great . . ." her voice trailed off and she watched the two boys studiously avoid looking at each other.  She sighed.

Xander met her eyes for a moment.  He felt sorry for her, really.  Not too sorry - he was still in mourning for the death of whatever it was he'd had with Cordy, and still vaguely jealous that Oz and Willow had managed to weather the storm and keep their relationship intact - but he knew how she felt.  It was never easy being the one in the middle.  He'd been put in the middle by his parents too many times, and he recognized the pained look in Willow's eyes.

Evidently Oz had recognized the look too, because he said, "So, Xander, you going out tonight?"  And then stopped, abashed, realising what he'd said.

Xander counted to ten, first in Latin, then in French.  Forwards and backwards.  From the look on Oz's face, he hadn't meant to rub Xander's face in it quite like that; he'd just been trying to start a conversation.

Willow looked anxiously from one face to another.  "Hey!" she said, excitedly, "How about you come with me and Oz and Buffy tonight, Xander?  We're going to the Bronze and -"

"I thought you said you and Buffy were going to some art gallery thing, and we were doing the Bronze tomorrow night," Oz said, raising an eyebrow.

Willow's eyes widened.  "Oh no!  I completely forgot - the Heindburg Gallery opening is tonight and I haven't even got a dress I can wear or *anything* - "

Xander tried not to smile.  "Breathe, Will, there's plenty of time after school for you to go dress shopping."

"Right.  Right."  Willow took a deep breath.  "Okay.  Better."

The school bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

Willow started gathering up her things frantically.  "Oh no, I've got Miss Fender now and she said if I'm late again she'll put me on detention - "

Oz looked at her quizzically.  "Late *again*?  You're never late."

"Well, remember that time with the vampires and the mice and the weird serum?  Well, I kinda got lost researching on the internet and I arrived five minutes late and Miss Fender said -"

"Will?" Xander said, "Maybe you should go now."

"Oh.  Okay," she said, using a free hand to push her hair behind her ears.  "Don't be late for your classes," she warned as she headed off.

"We won't, Mom," Xander said impishly.

Oz smiled.

Willow turned back hurriedly.  Xander could almost see the lightbulb hovering over her head.  "Hey!  I just had an idea!" she exclaimed.

"Did it hurt?" Xander asked.

"Why don't you two do something tonight?" she said, ignoring Xander completely.  "Go out or watch football or do whatever it is guys do when there're no girls around.  You know, male bonding, or something."

Xander looked at the hopeful expression on her face, and couldn't bring himself to disappoint her.  Please God, he thought, let Oz have something better to do.

"Well," Oz said, thoughtfully.  "My folks are away for the weekend, maybe you could come over and we could break into the liquor cabinet and, I don't know, talk.  Or something."

Xander forced a smile.  "Ah, well, tonight, uh, it's not the best for me, see - "

Willow's face fell.

"- but what the hell, sure, I'll come," he finished in a rush.

Willow smiled, happiness sparkling in her eyes.  "Great!"

The second bell rang, and Willow's eyes widened, though she didn't lose her smile.  "Bye!" she said breathlessly, heading back toward the school.  "Have fun tonight!"

Great, Xander thought.  Just *fucking* great.  It's not enough that I've got no one to go out with on a Friday night, but I end up having to spend it with a bitter werewolf.  Oh yeah, Jesus loves me, all right.
 

***************************************

 
 
Well, he had two choices.  He could walk up the drive, knock on Oz's door, and make Willow happy, or -

He took a deep breath.  No.  That wasn't fair.  Besides, he wouldn't get more than a block away before the guilts hit him.

Come on, Xander, he told himself.  How bad can it be?
 

***************************************

 
 
"So what did you do?"  Xander asked, concentrating hard on not slurring his words.  The sweet smelling smoke from the joint they'd been smoking was mixing in with the aroma of his vodka and oj, making a heady combination.

The two of them were sitting on the floor in Oz's bedroom, amid the piles of dirty laundry, guitar music, notebooks, CD's and various other bits and pieces.

Oz inspected the label on his bottle of beer - his eighth?  ninth? - and shrugged.  "I said, hey, get lost, man, this is mine, y'know, it's like *mine* so fuck off, all right, and he was like, yeah, sure, man, okay, sorry to invade your space, dude.  So it was cool."

"Cool," Xander echoed.

There was a brief silence.  "So, Xander,"  Oz bit his lip.  "I just wanted to say, no hard feelings, man, y'know, about Willow and all."

"Oh," Xander said, bewildered.  "Okay."  A pause.  "Really?"

"Yeah.  I mean, I know what it's like, y'know, I know how she is," he shrugged, "and I know what it feels like to want her, so I don't blame you, not really."

"Oh," Xander said again.  Then, feeling an expression of friendship was in order, he added, "Cool."

Oz seemed to understand.  "Yeah, man.  Cool."

They sat there a minute longer.

Xander frowned.  "It's - well, I hated fighting with you, man," he said, forcing himself to focus.

"Yeah," Oz said.  "Me too.  It sucked, royally."

"Coz, it's like, we're friends, y'know, and it's like us against them, and I hated having to hate you,  I mean, it really, really *sucked*, and I love you man, I really do, and I guess it's not very cool, but there it is - " his voice wavered slightly, and he looked back down to his drink.

Xander heard Oz sigh, softly, and the faint *clink* of a beer bottle being put down.  He looked up just in time to see Oz moving over to him.

"Xander, man," Oz hesitated, and then threw his arms around Xander.  "I hated fighting, man."

Xander froze for a moment.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  Guys didn't hug each other.  It wasn't cool.  It wasn't manly.  It just wasn't *done*.

But then, Oz was drunk, and stoned out of his brain - Xander conveniently sidestepped the fact that he was in much the same condition - and when a guy was drunk or stoned, then some of the conventions took a flying leap out the nearest window, right?

So it was okay to let Oz hug him, he reasoned, and it was okay to hug him back and say nice reassuring things - assuming he could reconnect his mind and his tongue - and so it was cool.

And plus, it felt kinda good, though he'd never admit it in a million years.  It was nice to be hugged just because someone cared about you, not because it was expected, or part of a hello or goodbye, but just because.

More than that, though.  It felt good to hug Oz, a friend, to feel the warmth and the unexpected strength -

Xander swallowed dryly.  The hug seemed to be going on forever - not that he had any immediate objections - but surely it wasn't cool, wasn't *manly* to hug this long - in fact, maybe it was kind of *gay* -

He cleared his throat.

Oz didn't move.

Xander took a deep breath, and reluctantly pushed Oz away.  "C'mon, Oz," he said, uncomfortably.

Oz frowned, moving away.  "What?"

Xander shrugged helplessly, unable to articulate what was on his mind.

Oz narrowed his eyes.  "Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked, a gleam in his eyes.  "Something - wrong?"

Xander swallowed.  "N-no, look, Oz, I should go -"

Oz leaned forward again, and this time he was kissing Xander, not just hugging, but full on mouth to mouth kissing, and fuck was that his *tongue*??  Was Oz's tongue in his mouth - ?

Xander fell back from the assault, and found himself flat on his back.  Oz was on top of him, straddling his body, with his tongue in Xander's mouth and one hand moving up under his shirt to gently flick a nipple.

Xander yelped into Oz's mouth, his hips bucking up against his friend as the sensation shot straight to his groin.  "God -" he moaned, not sure if he wanted this to stop, or to keep going forever.

Oz pulled back slightly, expression inscrutable as always, to look Xander in the eye.

Xander wanted to say something - stop; since when are you gay?; get off me; go find yourself a leather boy, fag - but he couldn't seem to get enough air to shape the words.  He settled for a weak, "*Oz* -"

Oz trailed a finger slowly from Xander's nipple down to his stomach and then further down, stopping inches from his cock.

Xander was paralysed.  Helpless, he stared up at Oz and wondered how the hell things had come to this.

"Do you want it?"  Oz's voice, low and hoarse.

Did he *want* it?  Christ, he'd barely had time to assimilate what was happening to him, and now he was being asked -

He swallowed dryly.  No, he wanted to say, get off me and let me go home, what about Willow?  I don't want to be here, I don't want you to be gay or whatever, this is gross and bad and just get *off* me -

All that emerged was a small squeak.

Oz was still watching him, intensity written on his features.  "I'm serious, Xander," he said softly, "if you want it, say.  Otherwise, I suggest you leave.  Now.  Before I change my mind about letting you go."

Xander stared, incredulous.  Torn between running for the door and punching Oz's face in, he found himself unable to move, hypnotised by Oz's stare.

Oz moved his hand down the last few inches to cup Xander's cock gently through his jeans.  "Well?"

Conscious thought deserted Xander altogether, and his hand found its way to Oz's, pressing it harder against his cock.

Oz leaned forward and kissed him, unexpectedly.  Moving his hand away, he ground his hips hard against Xander's.

Xander cried out into Oz's mouth and thrust up against the body on top of his own as stars exploded behind his eyes and he came, hard, in his pants.

As the euphoria of his climax drained away, it was replaced by sudden shame - god, not only had he just done *stuff* with his very *male* friend, he'd come in like, two seconds.  With his clothes still *on*.

*God*.

He turned his face away from Oz, breathing fast and shallow, trying to regain some semblance of his dignity.

Oz, still lying on top of him - and quite definitly still hard - pressed a gentle kiss into the place where neck meets shoulder.  "It's all right, it's okay," another kiss, this one under his jaw, "Xander?"  His voice was soft, but underscored with urgency.

Xander turned back to his friend.  "I -" he licked suddenly dry lips.  He couldn't just leave, not now, not with Oz so hard, so desperate.  "I don't know what to do -"  He hated the hesitancy in his own voice, wanted with a passion the easy confidence Oz always seemed to exude.

Oz met his eyes, and Xander saw the dangerous glitter in them.

"Whatever, man," Oz said, voice still soft and slightly slurred.  He rolled over to lie beside Xander.  "Do whatever it is *you* like -"

Xander took a deep breath and moved his hand down to cup Oz's cock through his jeans, the motion reminding him suddenly of his own damp and sticky pants.  The thought was quickly lost, however, as Oz made a faint sound and bucked into Xander's hand.

Xander could feel Oz's heat and hardness, and realised with a start that he was hard again.  Oz made a small sound as Xander stroked him through the denim.

"Please -"

Xander swallowed dryly, and with a quick prayer, slowly undid Oz's fly.  Oz moaned, a low, breathy sound, as Xander pushed aside blue cotton boxers and gently pulled Oz's hard cock out of his pants.

It felt so surreal - and so strangly familiar - to be holding another guy's cock, to be stroking him, pumping him, trying to make him come - *wanting* to make him come -

"Xander -"  Oz was breathing hard and fast now, close to the edge.  "God, oh my god, Xander -"

"It's all right," Xander said, his own voice strained, "come for me, Oz -"

Oz cried out as his body tensed and then came, his arms tightening convulsivly around Xander.  Panting, he lay back on the floor, eyes closed.

Struck with a sudden desire he didn't understand, Xander brought his hand up and tasted Oz's come, keeping a careful eye on his friend - no way in hell did he want to get caught doing this, but he just had to know -

Oz opened his eyes and Xander pulled his fingers out of his mouth, feeling irrationally guilty.

Oz simply looked at him, as relaxed and inscrutable as always.

All of a sudden something snapped inside Xander, and he was up and searching for his discarded coat and wallet before his mind caught up with his body.

"Xander?"  There was curiosity in his voice, concern, but no fear, no shock, no disgust, no horror -

Xander grabbed his wallet - half under the bed, god knew how it got there - and headed for the door, the desire to get out of there stronger than anything else.  He had to think about this, process - or better yet, *not* think and *re*press.

Christ.

Still, now he knew what it took to shatter Oz's reserve, to see something more in those eyes than the usual careful blankness.

He closed the door behind him as he stepped into the hall, still feeling Oz's gaze on his back and started the walk back to his parent's house.

Maybe when he was sober and the joint had worn off things would start to make sense again.

Yeah, and maybe pigs would fly and the undead would all head for retirement villas in Florida.
 

***************************************


Willow looked from Oz to Xander and back again.

Oz was staring fixedly at the ground.  Xander was staring fixedly at passing cars.

Willow sighed.  "So, I guess there weren't any miracles Friday night," she said regretfully.

"No!"  Xander said hastily, just as Oz said, "No, no miracles, nothing like that.  Uh, no.  Nope.  Uh huh."

Willow frowned.  "Is something wrong?  Did something happen?"

"No!"  Xander exclaimed.  "I mean, nothing out of the ordinary," he added, looking desperate.  "Uh, alcohol, y'know, a few drinks, and really nothing exciting, nothing to write home about, just another boring night, good thing I left the tux in the closet - "  he froze, looking suddenly mortified.

Oz raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, the cupboard,"  Xander amended hastily.  "The cupboard, not the closet, there's nothing in the closet, nothing at all, or at least nothing that's coming out, *nothing* is coming out, not at all, not at any point, because there's nothing to come out.  Nothing.  No closeted things.  No sirree Bob."

Willow stared.

Oz cleared his throat.  "So, uh, Willow, how was the chem test?"

Willow gave her head a little shake.  "Well, it went really well, I think, except maybe for the last question - look, really, did something happen?  On Friday, I mean.  You two are acting weird.  Well, weird*er*, anyway."

"Nothing happened," Oz said, blinking rapidly.  "Nothing."  He gave Xander an inscrutable look.  "Nothing at all.  Nada, zip, zero, nothing.  Less than nothing."

"Okay," Willow said doubtfully.  "If you say so."

"We do," Xander said.  "Uh, well, he does, and I do too, but we don't - well, not together, not in any way other than maybe a brotherly kind of way, because let's face it -"

"Xander?"  Oz interrupted.

Xander closed his mouth and looked at Oz.

"Shut up," Oz said mildly.

Willow looked from Xander to Oz, and back again.

The school bell rang.

***************************************

It was the last period of the day - study hall - and, for no apparent reason, Xander was spending it staring out of the library window, absently rolling a pencil between his thumb and forefinger.  Normally he would've snuck out by now and been halfway home, or else waiting for Cordelia in the little grove of trees by the gates -

Funny, it didn't hurt quite so much as it used to, thinking about her.  He'd been convinced that he wouldn't be able to go on without her, but here he was, doing fine.

Well, mostly fine, anyway.  There was the whole thing with Oz - weird, seriously weird, probably something to do with the fact that they were living on a hellmouth, or maybe a spell gone wrong or something, but apart from that, he was doing okay.  Pretty okay.

"Hey -"  A quiet voice said from somewhere behind him.

Xander snapped the pencil he'd been holding and jerked around in his seat.  "Oz!"

Oz smiled and sat down beside him.  "How's it going?"

"Um, okay," Xander replied hesitantly.  "You?"

"I'm alright," Oz said, nodding.  "I'm good.  Very good, actually."

"Great," Xander said, feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't want Willow to know about this," Oz said softly.

Xander started.  "I -"

"I care about her.  I *really* care about her.  I think maybe we might get back together."  Oz shrugged, looking down at the table.  "What we did - "

"Oz!" Xander couldn't control the note of panic in his voice.

Oz made a placatory gesture.  "It didn't mean anything."

Xander said nothing.

"I just, I just wanted it," Oz paused, then corrected himself.  "I wanted you.  Maybe this was because we haven't been talking.  Maybe it was the joint.  Maybe it's about the Willow thing, I don't know - "

"So, you're not - " Xander shrugged nervously.  "You know -"

"Gay?" Oz's voice was barely a whisper, but he was smiling.

Xander bit his lip.  "Because, you know, I'm not -"  he looked over to the next table, where three students were making paper planes out of their study guide sheets, and lowered his voice, "I'm not gay."  He looked up at Oz, uncertain as to what he'd find.

Oz was smiling his usual enigmatic half smile.  "Yeah.  I know."  He met Xander's eyes.  "Me either."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Xander frowned.  "So, Friday -?"

Oz stared out the window.  "What about Friday?"

Xander fidgited nervousely.  "It's just, I don't know - "

"Relax," Oz said softly, "chill out, okay?"  Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "Friday night was just two guys doing what it is guys sometimes do.  For whatever reason.  Okay?  Nothing sinister or life changing, just a little tension release, a little fun.  Right?"

Xander took a deep breath.  "Right."  He looked down at his notes.

"You going to be okay with this?"  Oz asked softly.

"Yeah," Xander said, "I mean, there are issues, you know, but I'll work through them.  And hey," he added lightly, "I've already bought myself about fifty years of counseling so far, what's another four or five?"

Oz nodded, thoughtfully.

"Just -"  Xander stopped, face red, as he realised what he'd been about to say.

"What?"

"Nothing," Xander said firmly.  "Nothing."

Oz shrugged.

"I'm uh, feeling a little, uh -"  Xander took a deep breath.  "A little tense."  He looked at Oz.

"Yeah," Oz said thoughtfully.  "Me too."

They both stared out the window for a moment.

"So, my mom's going to be out again tonight," Oz offered.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Cool," Xander said.

The last bell rang.
 
 

The End.


 
 
 
 

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