Buffy unlocked the door to her place and felt butterflies dance in her stomach. Riding to her home in Oz's van had been quiet. He was always so still. She looked behind her and blushed when he raised one eyebrow. She had offered him the room without thinking about it. It had seemed right to have him close. He would find it harder to leave again if he had a stable home life. She grimaced at the thought and pushed the door in spreading her arms wide. "Welcome to Shangri La."
He stepped into her space and all of the tension seemed to flee his body. There were the required college apartment furnishings, a huge futon, a funky floor lamp, even a beanbag on steroids, but the walls were a soothing blue the colors all muted. The punching bag hanging in the corner and the weapons locker on the wall next to the door even seemed to blend in. H could smell the lemon scent of cleanser and the waft of her perfume.
"The kitchen is on the other side of the breakfast bar. It's tiny, but well stocked. Use whatever you need." She walked toward a small hall and pointed to the first door. "Bathroom, spacious, great tub, but we might need to add some storage for your things. The next door is your room." He watched her hips sway as she walked down the hall and opened the door.
"Mom dumped my old furniture off a couple of weeks ago. I set it up, but do what you want with the room." She smiled at him. "It's nice to have you home."
The butterflies were back as she watched him walk around the room.
"It's a good place, Buffy. Thanks." His voice filled the space.
"It's our place now." She looked him straight in the eyes and handed him her spare key. "I want you to be here. You'll be my roomie." Again it wasn't a question. Oz grinned and nodded his head.
"I want to be here. I won't run again. My life is here. I left it, but it never left me." His voice was pitched low and Buffy watched him carefully.
"I remember what that's like. It's all Kansas and Oz."
His lips twisted to the side fighting the smile. Buffy and the word play, he shook his head. "That makes you Kansas, Buffy."
"So, call me Kansas, but remember there's no place like home." She grinned at him and touched his shoulder, feeling the heat radiate off him through his soft cotton tee shirt. "Only short trips from now on, Oz. I want return dates circled on my calendar. Don't disappoint me." She growled playfully.
"I won't." He leaned back into her touch, rocking on his heels.
"Are we going to need to put in a cage?" She stroked his back as she looked around the room trying to imagine it.
"I don't have to change all the time. I have some control, but I think we can reinforce the closet and not make it obvious. I won't need it for clothes since I have the girly dresser."
"I'll call Xander tomorrow." She dropped her hand from him and looked around the room. "He might be able to help with the furniture as well. Sand it down or paint it. I don't know."
He dropped his duffle bag and watched her dither about. He smiled and tilted his head. She always surprised him. She was a fierce fighter, beautiful in battle. She was wily and smarter than she let on. She had been bold dancing at The Bronze, but here in her own home she faltered. He could smell her arousal. The scent of warm honey mixing with her cinnamon scent was pushing at him. He wanted to grab her, kiss her, and throw her down on the bed she'd used as a little girl. He thought of her hair spread across the pillow as he followed her down, pressing himself into her.
She drew a sharp breath and turned around the room. "You'll be okay. Right? I've gotta patrol." She ran across the hall and he stood pulling the scent of her into his lungs.
He smiled and felt something ease within him. He wouldn't have turned her away, but he was glad she had fled. There were things to settle, and he wanted her to be sure of him before he took her to bed. He opened his duffle and pulled the letters she had written to him on his journey and placed them in the one drawer of the nightstand. He closed the drawer and let the feeling of belonging sweep through him. He was home.
