Author's Note: (pls see end)
Disclaimer: Josh Whedon
All Killer, No Filler
*
I'm watchin' you watch over me
And I've got
The greatest view from here
Silverchair
The Greatest View
*
Oz shot the television. They'd been in the store for nearly three hours and he couldn't count how many times he'd heard those stupid songs. It was becoming a little wearing.
"Loud much?"
Oz turned to Buffy, walking up the aisle behind him. "Last time you complained I was uncivilized."
"You picked up a hundred pound television and threw it all the way to the front door," she reminded him.
They turned to the wreck. Oz looked at Buffy and shrugged. "Seemed like a plan at the time."
"Well, it did get those nasty employees to listen to us," she admitted. "But tell the truth, you were showing off for me," she said playfully. There was a dark twinkle in her eye as she caressed Oz's arm.
"Maybe."
"Mmm," she purred, "you big hunk of a man!" she said in her best Blanche Deveraux impersonation. "Now go eat."
Oz loped off, changing as he went. Buffy ignored the wet popping sounds behind her, as she pried a cell phone out of a dead employees fingers. "You really shouldn't bite your nails," she admonished the dead girl. She punched in the number from memory. "Hey sweetie," she said brightly
"Buffy? Is Oz--"
"Just wanted to let you know: Tag, you're it! Muah!"
"Buffy? Buffy!" Willow stared at her cell phone and swore. The call had been less than thirty seconds long.
"Was that them?"
Willow turned to Angel and company. "Yeah."
"What'd she say?" he demanded.
"Tag. I'm it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Probably that you two are next."
They both turned to Spike who sat smoking in Giles' erstwhile chair. "Shut up, Spike!"
Buffy sat next to OzWolf. "Mmm, how's Buffy's puppy?"
Glazed-over, sated green eyes greeted her over the eviscerated body of an employee. Normal wolves didn't have green eyes, or ginger-colored fur. If he weren't so big, Oz might have looked like an exotic coyote. A contented sound rose from his throat.
Buffy cuffed him on the nose. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me."
He growled back a warning. Full did not mean sleepy. Actually it did, but that didn't give her the right to hit him. Rising to his full height on all four legs, Oz was something like a small pony. Buffy knew from experience that, even as a wolf, Oz was still small for his kind, but without other transformed werewolves to compare him to, a fat sleek Oz was something to behold.
"Oh, did Buffy hurt Ozzy?" she cooed. "Come, let Buffy kiss it and make it all better."
Oz delicately stepped over his meal, changing as he went. Sweat slick and naked, he cupped Buffy's face in his hands. "You call them?"
She nodded, nuzzling his hands.
"What they say?"
"Not much."
He nipped her jaw, growling softly. "Buffy."
"Okay. Nothing. I, uh . . .mmm, that feels really--"
"Buffy..."
"A little distracted here, Oz."
"Oh?"
Her hands, until that moment, still and stationary by her sides, slid into his hair, grasping and massaging. Scratching. Her fingers glided down Oz's neck, down his chest and sides, feeling the play of his muscles as Oz kisses moved down the column of her throat; as he slowly bent her backward.
"What did they say, Buffy?"
"Oz!" she complained.
His tongue found the valley of her breast. "Tell me Buffy."
"Nothing! Didn't...give them...the chance. Oz!"
He lifted her, pressing her against a large-screen, flat-paneled television. If she could have thought straight, Buffy would have been surprised by Oz's strength. But then, she always was. She wrapped her legs around his torso.
"Too many layers," Oz complained.
"Very uncomfortable," she complained back.
Oz hoisted her again, walking them back to the customer service desk as Buffy dropped quick biting kisses along his shoulder and collarbone. His hips jerked involuntarily when she drew blood. Growling he stopped and, with serpentine agility, caught her lips with his own.
They were still kissing when he pushed a dead customer service rep off the counter laid Buffy on it. With a gasp she broke the kiss and laughed, arching back until her head hung off the counter on the other side.
"You're laughing. Why?" Oz asked as she brought them back down, working at her top.
"You taste so good when you bleed Oz," she purred, looking him in the eye. She moaned as he pressed his hips into her still jean-clad groin. "Do it again," she whispered.
He did. And again when she wrapped her legs around his hips. And again when she licked her tiny wounds.
*
A/N: If you're used to reading my work you know that I'm pretty good w/finishing WIPs, but I'm not making any promises with this one guys. It's such an odd lil fic that I can't resist publishing it, but I'm also not sure if I can finish it. So you have been warned. And the title has nothing to do w/Sum 41's debut album title. I didn't even know until Karen of OzMIA told me. Crazed me.