That evening
Willow jumped up at the sound of the doorbell. She opened the door to find Oz, smiling a bit awkwardly.
"'Rents?"
"Nah, away again. Come on in."
"Thanks," he said, making his way into the still somewhat unfamiliar space of the Rosenberg living room. She followed and they sat on the sofa.
"So —" they both began at once, and simultaneously dissolved into giggles. In solemn mime, Oz gestured to Willow to roshambo. Her paper covered his rock and she spoke first.
"So I have really good news. I did a special divination and came up with a ritual to help you keep control while you're in werewolf form."
"Well good. I appreciate," he said, concern showing itself in his slightly knit brow.
"I met this lady at the magic shop and she said that I'd been going at it wrong, looking it up in books rather than going to the real source. So I did and a deity came forth to help me out."
"This isn't a deal with blood sacrifices and all that? Because, werewolf thing aside, I'm not so much into the blood thing."
"Well, there may be a little blood, which is why I bring this up. The goddess who helped me is Aphrodite and she was pretty specific about the ritual."
Oz swallowed.
"Details?"
"We'll need to find someplace on the coast, preferably right near the water. I'm thinking someplace kind of far away from Sunnydale, you know, to make it less likely that we'll be interrupted by things that go bump in the night."
"Fair enough."
"And it will have to have a pretty solid table with someplace for the chains and stuff."
"So, private."
"Well, we wouldn't want to disturb anybody."
"Right, what else?"
Willow tried to force herself to speak, but could not find words that did not make steam shoot from her ears at the very thought of saying them to her boyfriend. He smiled and stroked her hair, then whispered in her ear, "You're so cute when you're flustered."
She smiled back at him in gratitude, still blushing furiously.
"So I'm thinking this ritual will not involve Giles."
Willow had not though she could blush any deeper red, but found that she was managing just fine.
"Yes," she whispered. He nuzzled her and breathed her fragrance.
"If you can't tell me, maybe you should show me what you mean. A dry run." He lay back on the sofa, looking up at her. "Chains?" he asked, moving his hands up to the arm of the sofa. Willow nodded, then stood to let him stretch out.
"There's incense, and some words," she said very softly. "And —" she knelt on the couch and straddled him, still blushing hotly, but the feel of his body under hers and her desire to help him unite the two parts of himself drove her on.
Oz was looking at her with eyes wide, but refrained from speaking or moving. He had a feeling where this was going, and he wasn't sure yet if it was a good idea, but the intensity of her intention was impressing the hell out of him. And she felt incredibly good on top of him, the evidence of which she encountered as she shifted. A look halfway between pride and panic crossed her face, and she looked at him, reassured by the affection in his eyes.
She dropped her eyes, overwhelmed but coping, and continued, "Then I call on Aphrodite and we — we — you know... While the change happens. And then you should still be in control while you're the werewolf." She looked shyly back up at him.
Oz wrapped his arms around her and cradled her to his chest, kissing the top of her head and murmuring to her. "You're the best. I'm the luckiest guy ever."
She snuggled her cheek into his shoulder and marinated in bliss for a long time.