Oz Saves Xander from Evil Lemmings
No one expected an attack of evil lemmings. I mean, it's just not something you'd think of. Xander was pretty sure he must have once made a joke about it. It seemed the only possible explanation. He had made a lemming-related joke; those suicidal fuckers had got offended, and come to seek revenge. Giles had done a lot of research, but even he didn't have a better theory. Lemmings wanted Xander dead. Just saying it sounded stupid.
But there he was, in the back of Oz's van, hoping that the lemmings wouldn't get to him, and peering anxiously out the window. His only hope was to run. Even Buffy couldn't fight these. I mean, sure, singularly they're small and cute and can't put up much of a fight (even if they do carry knives) but there's strength in numbers, and that's totally what the lemmings had. Numbers. There were millions of them. It was worse than the bringers, or the borg.
"Are you scared?" Oz asked him, suprisingly breaking the uneasy silence.
"Only in the sense that I'm petrified," Xander replied.
"And they're so cute, too," said Oz. It was true. That was another way the lemmings were completely unlike anything they'd ever faced before. They were spherical, yellow, and had cute little squeaky voices, even if they did mostly talk about blades.
"I'll tell them that you said so, while they're chopping me into little pieces," Xander said.
Oz drove a little faster, just to make Xander feel better. Xander peered out the window again, into the murky night. There wasn't any sign of the spherical fuckers (as Xander so sweetly thought of them) but he was sure they were out there somewhere. Being small. And cute. And suicidal. And homicidal. He hoped things were okay in Sunnydale. He was glad that Oz had offered to drive him. Willow would have drove him nuts in a crisis like this, and Buffy's bad driving made him feel sick. Nah, Oz was definitely what he needed. He was all calm.and short and cute, much as Xander hated to admit he thought it.
"We'll stop here?" Oz said, slowing beside a small motel.
"Are you sure it's far enough away?" Xander asked, nervously gnawing his lip. Gnawing. Lemmings were gnawers. He shuddered involuntarily.
"These guys have really got you rattled," Oz said pulling in.
"They're just so.small and evil.and cute," Xander replied. "It's so wrong."
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Oz said. "I'm a wolf."
"Not now, you're not."
"Well, I'm strong and silent," Oz replied, chuckling. He locked the car as Xander grabbed his backpack and they headed for reception.
The owner eyed them for a few minuets and said that there was only one room, with a double bed, no less. After a few seconds deciding (and, of course, only a few seconds cos we already know Xander has a thing for Oz) they took their key and headed for the room.
"No lemmings," Oz said, quickly checking in likely lemming hiding spots. They were very fond of shower cubicles. They probably saw Psycho a few times too many.
Xander flopped down across the bed, saying "oh thank God." He heard Oz in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and moving around. Xander closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. He hadn't been able to relax in a lemming-free environment for days. He spread out further across the bed as he began to drift off.
"Hey," he distantly heard Oz say, "move over to your own side."
Xander forced his eyes open, noting that Oz was only wearing a pair of boxers. "Make me," he said, suddenly smiling.
Oz laughed. "I can see you've relaxed." He lay down onto the bed, half on top of Xander, and began to tickle him. Xander involuntarily squirmed away, writhing under Oz's hands, which seemed much practised. Xander lolled over the whole bed, stretching out his arms and giving Oz more space, but determined to take possession of the bed. Oz straddled Xander, getting him under his arms, and Xander convulsed under him, giggling helplessly.
Oz pressed his forehead against Xander's. "Give in?" he said.
"No," Xander tried to say, but somehow his lips ended up getting caught with Oz's. They melded together, their mouths hot against each other's. It was different to anything that Xander had felt before. Nicer. Oz groaned a little in the back of his throat, opening his mouth and allowing Xander's tongue to probe inside. They pressed their bodies against each other; both feeling unbelievably turned on.
Oz leant away after a few minuets of sweaty snogging. "Shit," he whispered.
Xander bit his lip nervously. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Oz said, "Let's just get some sleep."
Oz turned away from him, taking up a surprisingly small amount of room in the large bed. Xander lay next to him, trying to sleep. It was hard, now, even after his previous tiredness. He watched Oz's sleeping form, wanting to press himself up against Oz's back, but he lay still, and watched the moonlight. Oddly, he wasn't worrying about lemmings anymore.
No one expected an attack of evil lemmings. I mean, it's just not something you'd think of. Xander was pretty sure he must have once made a joke about it. It seemed the only possible explanation. He had made a lemming-related joke; those suicidal fuckers had got offended, and come to seek revenge. Giles had done a lot of research, but even he didn't have a better theory. Lemmings wanted Xander dead. Just saying it sounded stupid.
But there he was, in the back of Oz's van, hoping that the lemmings wouldn't get to him, and peering anxiously out the window. His only hope was to run. Even Buffy couldn't fight these. I mean, sure, singularly they're small and cute and can't put up much of a fight (even if they do carry knives) but there's strength in numbers, and that's totally what the lemmings had. Numbers. There were millions of them. It was worse than the bringers, or the borg.
"Are you scared?" Oz asked him, suprisingly breaking the uneasy silence.
"Only in the sense that I'm petrified," Xander replied.
"And they're so cute, too," said Oz. It was true. That was another way the lemmings were completely unlike anything they'd ever faced before. They were spherical, yellow, and had cute little squeaky voices, even if they did mostly talk about blades.
"I'll tell them that you said so, while they're chopping me into little pieces," Xander said.
Oz drove a little faster, just to make Xander feel better. Xander peered out the window again, into the murky night. There wasn't any sign of the spherical fuckers (as Xander so sweetly thought of them) but he was sure they were out there somewhere. Being small. And cute. And suicidal. And homicidal. He hoped things were okay in Sunnydale. He was glad that Oz had offered to drive him. Willow would have drove him nuts in a crisis like this, and Buffy's bad driving made him feel sick. Nah, Oz was definitely what he needed. He was all calm.and short and cute, much as Xander hated to admit he thought it.
"We'll stop here?" Oz said, slowing beside a small motel.
"Are you sure it's far enough away?" Xander asked, nervously gnawing his lip. Gnawing. Lemmings were gnawers. He shuddered involuntarily.
"These guys have really got you rattled," Oz said pulling in.
"They're just so.small and evil.and cute," Xander replied. "It's so wrong."
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Oz said. "I'm a wolf."
"Not now, you're not."
"Well, I'm strong and silent," Oz replied, chuckling. He locked the car as Xander grabbed his backpack and they headed for reception.
The owner eyed them for a few minuets and said that there was only one room, with a double bed, no less. After a few seconds deciding (and, of course, only a few seconds cos we already know Xander has a thing for Oz) they took their key and headed for the room.
"No lemmings," Oz said, quickly checking in likely lemming hiding spots. They were very fond of shower cubicles. They probably saw Psycho a few times too many.
Xander flopped down across the bed, saying "oh thank God." He heard Oz in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and moving around. Xander closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. He hadn't been able to relax in a lemming-free environment for days. He spread out further across the bed as he began to drift off.
"Hey," he distantly heard Oz say, "move over to your own side."
Xander forced his eyes open, noting that Oz was only wearing a pair of boxers. "Make me," he said, suddenly smiling.
Oz laughed. "I can see you've relaxed." He lay down onto the bed, half on top of Xander, and began to tickle him. Xander involuntarily squirmed away, writhing under Oz's hands, which seemed much practised. Xander lolled over the whole bed, stretching out his arms and giving Oz more space, but determined to take possession of the bed. Oz straddled Xander, getting him under his arms, and Xander convulsed under him, giggling helplessly.
Oz pressed his forehead against Xander's. "Give in?" he said.
"No," Xander tried to say, but somehow his lips ended up getting caught with Oz's. They melded together, their mouths hot against each other's. It was different to anything that Xander had felt before. Nicer. Oz groaned a little in the back of his throat, opening his mouth and allowing Xander's tongue to probe inside. They pressed their bodies against each other; both feeling unbelievably turned on.
Oz leant away after a few minuets of sweaty snogging. "Shit," he whispered.
Xander bit his lip nervously. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Oz said, "Let's just get some sleep."
Oz turned away from him, taking up a surprisingly small amount of room in the large bed. Xander lay next to him, trying to sleep. It was hard, now, even after his previous tiredness. He watched Oz's sleeping form, wanting to press himself up against Oz's back, but he lay still, and watched the moonlight. Oddly, he wasn't worrying about lemmings anymore.