Author: Thranduilion
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Setting: The alternate universe created in BtVS season 3, episode 9: The Wish.
Type: Larry/Oz semi-explicit slash (something like a PG-13 rating, really). A short, self-contained, one-shot ficlet.
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction site. Obviously, I own none of these characters or the situations created. They belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Though if anyone's selling, I'll take Oz. :)
Author's Note: Thanks to MG for editing help on this, my first slashy story. *Muah!*
A World Apart
Humans have an extraordinary ability to adapt. It took some conscious thinking, sometimes, for Larry to remember that the world hadn't always been like this, that only a couple of years ago anyone claiming that vampires walked the streets of Sunnydale would have been laughed at. Now the humans stayed inside after sunset, afraid of their own shadows and hiding behind bunches of garlic and a bible of flimsy superstitions. The new way of life had settled around Sunnydale's residents like a blanket, and hardly anyone dared suggest that humans could take back the town, take back the night. The ones who had a shred of courage and stubborn spirit left gathered in the high school library and patrolled the streets in a beat-up blue van, trying to believe they were making a difference. Larry had been one of these, one of the 'white hats' of a doomed town, almost from the beginning of the nightmare. He'd survived being a witness to the Harvest, when it had all begun — one of the dwindling few humans who could claim that distinction. Myths had come to bloody life that night, horrors made, hopes destroyed.
Anyone growing up in Sunnydale had always known there was something weird about the town. It had a ridiculously high death rate for such a small, friendly place; mysterious disappearances were so commonplace as to lose their mystery. Gruesome legends walked under the surface, but mankind's stubborn ability to adapt to his surroundings cast a wide-reaching veil over the eyes of Sunnydale's cheerful residents. Or had, before the darkness came, before the horror grew so powerful it blotted out all hope of normality and laughed at subterfuge. The demons held their version of a rollicking celebration on the anniversary of the Harvest each year, and had since . . . Larry frowned in his reverie. There had only been two. The second had happened just last week. He rubbed his temples. It seemed like a lifetime.
"Got a headache, Lar?"
He started at the sudden melody of Oz's voice, his train of thought derailing and vanishing into the thin air that was his brain these days. He grinned tiredly up from his seat by the library table at the red-haired boy.
"Just thinking about human adaptability," he quipped. "It was really deep and meaningful, I think. Eh, it's gone now. What's up? Is there trouble?"
Oz made one of his trademark wry looks: #7, indicating The world sucks and we probably can't do anything about it, but despair is for those depressive, angsty suicidal types. There was a hint of a grin in the look, a whisper of what might elsewhere be called madness. Here, it was just Oz. It was just life.
"There's always trouble. Actually, I just came to see if you were up for some training. Giles is on this medieval-weapons kick. Wants us all to learn the quarterstaff. You game?"
Larry raised his eyebrows at the two five-foot long wooden sticks Oz was clutching. A chance to get hot and sweaty with the gorgeousness that is you? How could I refuse? Externalizing the thought, Larry changed a few words and added a tinge of sarcasm. "A chance to get hot and sweaty with an over-the-hill librarian and a scrawny little toothpick like you? How could I refuse?"
Oz rolled his eyes and tossed one of the weapons to his much larger friend. "Nancy's meeting us in the courtyard. I think she's looking to kick your ass today -- did you two have another tiff?"
Larry made a vague, noncommittal grunt, and followed Oz out of the library. When they reached the courtyard, which was filled with the crimson glow of sunset, Nancy and Giles were already facing each other, holding their own long wooden staves. As expected, Giles held his weapon with an intense surety that had seemed so out of place on the middle-aged school librarian the first time Larry had seen it, back when the vampires had started taking over. Obviously, a dark past lay under the surface there, the disguise that hid it from the present world growing thinner with every student he couldn't save, every life the Master and his minions sucked dry. Now the once tweed-clad librarian had become a reluctant battle leader in black jeans, holding together the few humans who dared to stand strong. Nancy, a tall, broad-shouldered girl of eighteen, held her own staff somewhat hesitantly. The look in her eyes was just as determined as her elder's, though, and contained the tale of a lifetime of aging in two horrendous years. It was a familiar look.
Giles and Nancy both looked up as the two boys approached, relaxing out of their fighting stances. Nancy glowed a little bit as her eyes landed on Oz, and she greeted him with a flirtatious simper that seemed out of place on someone so butch. Then she flashed a quick glare at Larry. He sighed. It was amazing how immaturely jealous the girl got at every spare moment Larry spent alone with her beloved little redhead. Like Oz would ever even notice her. He shook his head a little. Okay, so maybe he got a little immature himself. Sometimes.
"Oh, good, you're here," Giles said briskly. "Oz, I showed you a few moves last week. Will you go through those drills with Larry? I'd like to work with Nancy a bit longer."
Oz nodded and pulled Larry into another area of the courtyard. A cement-bound miniature garden blocked the other two from view. Larry grinned. Perfect. Oz was all business, but clearly enjoying his moment in charge.
"Okay. Giles showed me three attacks and the basic defenses against them. The first one is like this. I come in . . ."
Larry was barely concentrating enough to get the moves right, but he followed along as well as he could as the sun sank slowly below the horizon. The time of the night creatures was approaching. A shudder ran through Larry's body in anticipation of the coming nightly danger. Or maybe it was Oz panting with effort two feet from his face. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the smooth scent of sweat and concentrated intensity. Then Larry showed that he really had been paying attention; without warning, he swept his staff across the shorter boy's legs, tumbling him onto his back. He quickly knelt over Oz's trembling shoulders and tossed aside his weapon with a wicked grin. Oz started to glare at his attacker, but couldn't stop the escape of a giggle that melted into a moan as Larry smoothly ground his hips against the other boy's pelvis. Pinning his wrists above his head, Larry dipped his head down for a sloppy, wet kiss. It only took a second or so for Oz to give in completely, attacking Larry's mouth just as fiercely as his was being attacked. Their breath came in gasps as they broke the kiss momentarily, trying desperately to keep their activities silent. The clack of quarterstaffs was still clearly audible from across the courtyard.
Larry released the other boy's hands and tangled his fingers in the spiky russet hair below him. Oz's callused hands roamed freely without pause, slipping roughly beneath Larry's shirt and raking across his thick back. Oz shifted his weight, and the larger boy allowed himself to be rolled over onto his back. Oz pulled his mouth away for a moment and sat upright, straddling Larry's hips and creating the most delicious pressure. For a moment Larry could just catch his lower lip in his teeth, begging himself not to squeal and give them away; then those delicious lips were on his again, tongues slipping around each other wetly. Oz's deft musician fingers had found Larry's crotch and were working their way teasingly over the bulge that lay underneath, playing it like an instrument.
"Dammit, Osbourne, what are you waiting for?" Larry hissed breathlessly, eliciting a throaty chuckle from the boy on top of him. The hand on his erection gripped gently through the thick denim and then started attacking the zipper. Larry squeezed a handful of red hair as Oz worked his mouth teasingly down to his neck, softly licking up the pool of sweat in the hollow of his shoulder. Larry arched his back in pleasure, pressing his pelvis against Oz's hand. Moaning silently was really hard work.
"Larry? Oz? Are you two finished yet?"
Giles' shout cut the mood in an instant, and Oz was on his feet and miraculously composed in seconds. Footsteps approaching spurred Larry to do the same. He was still quite dazed, though, and was unbelievably grateful when the shorter boy answered in a beautifully together tone.
"Yeah, we're good. I think Lar knows everything I do now."
Larry stifled a snort at the comment. Giles was still coming closer. Just out of sight behind the potted tree and shaded in the evening gloom, he spoke again.
"It's about time to start the patrol. The sun will be down in a few minutes. I think that's enough training for one day, all right?"
Oz smirked widely at Larry in the dimness. He called back, "Okay, Giles. We're just going to shower first. Tough workout today -- we'll meet you out front in ten."
A grunt of agreement issued from somewhere in the direction of where Giles probably was, and then Larry was following Oz back into the school building and running towards the men's locker rooms to finish what they had started.
Entering the dimly lit shower rooms, Larry pulled his fellow survivor in for another passionate kiss, this time with complete freedom, careless of the noise they would make. In a world like this one, consequences were pretty damn meaningless. The world was a living nightmare, they could both die tonight, yet these fleeting moments still made life worth living. Amazing what humans could adapt to.