Fic: Reconnecting
Jan. 31st, 2010 09:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sinderella81Title: Reconnecting
Pairing: Giles/Oz
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cinderella81
Rating: G
Summary: Two years after the destruction, Giles is living Bath. He runs into someone he never expected to see again.
It was cold. Colder than he thought it’d be. Daniel Osbourne, otherwise known as Oz to those around him, wandered through the streets of Bath, England, looking for a place to rest his feet. He’d been wandering the world for years, bunking with other werewolves or finding hostels to crash for a while.
It had been an interesting few years. After Willow and Tara and the Initiative … Oz needed space … peace. He’d gone back to Tibet and studied with the monks. He’d also found packs around the world … studied with them as well, trying to find a way to be at peace with his inner demons.
He had received emails from Xander of all people, updating him on the goings on in Sunnydale. He’d heard about them blowing the city to hell and mentally congratulated them for a job well done. That place attracted evil like a … well, a Hellmouth.
Oz sighed and caught sight of a tea house and made his way across the road. He sighed as he stepped inside. It was warm, and Oz could feel the heat sink into his bones.
His eyes adjusted to the darkened room, and an old familiar figure caught his gaze. The man was older, more gray, but it was him.
“Mr. Giles?”
Rupert Giles sipped his tea quietly. His life had taken an interesting turn after the destruction of Sunnydale and the creation of a virtual army of Slayers. He’d assisted in the rebuilding of the Watchers, making sure that competent people were in charge. And then, he retired. He’d lived a long, and very exciting life … he deserved some peace.
“Mr. Giles?”
Giles knew that voice … hadn’t heard it in years. He turned around and smiled a bit. Oz hadn’t changed that much. He stood in the doorway, red hair standing up in random spikes as always. He was wearing worn hiking boots, well worn jeans, white t-shirt, flannel and a corduroy jacket with fleece collar. Over his shoulder was an army issue duffel bag, stuffed full.
“Oz,” Giles said. “How … I’m surprised to see you.”
Oz cracked a rare smile. “I’m surprised too,” he admitted.
“What are you doing in Bath?” Giles asked, motioning for Oz to join him.
“I arrived here purely by accident,” Oz said, sitting at the table next to the former Sunnydale High School librarian. “I’ve been traveling around the world, learning from different packs.”
“And you’re here now because?” Giles asked, taking a sip of tea.
“Just a stop on my way back to the States, actually,” Oz replied. “I stopped in here to get warm before finding a place to crash for the night.” Fingers with black nail polish mussed the red spikes and Oz shrugged a bit. “Figured there’s gotta be a hostel around that I can stay at.”
“Perish the thought,” Giles said. “I have a house just outside town with plenty of space. You can stay with me for as long as you need.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Oz murmured.
“No bother,” Giles said. “It’ll just be like when everyone used to camp out at my flat during one of our research sessions … although with less of the ear splitting noise that Buffy used to listen to.”
Oz chuckled softly and stretched. “Thank you,” he said.
* * *
A few hours later, Oz was comfortably resting in the spacious guest room in Giles’ home. The evening had been interesting; he and the former mentor/librarian had shared a few glasses of brandy and shared stories of their adventures.
Oz could admit to himself that Rupert Giles was an attractive man. The years had been kind to him, and there was an aura of … something alluring around the older man. Oz sighed to himself and sank under the covers, hoping for a peaceful sleep.
Down the hall, Rupert Giles lay in his own bed, trying (and failing) to sleep. Seeing Oz after so long had been a shock and a surprise. There had always been a quiet confidence around the young werewolf and a few years of traveling the work had done nothing but enhance it.
Giles closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The time passed; each tick of the clock felt like a lifetime. Just as he was finally starting to drift off, he heard a sound come from the guest room.
A whimper.
Giles was silent, ears strained to pick up any noise. He’d just about decided that it’d been his imagination … until he’d heard it again. The whimper was louder this time, more pained.
Giles tugged on a shirt and padded carefully down the hall. The closer he got to Oz’s room, the louder the whimpers became. Giles opened the door a crack and the sight that met his eyes nearly broke his heart.
Oz was curled up in a ball at the end of the bed. He was whining and jerking, as though trying to protect himself from attack.
Giles stepped inside and moved to the end of the bed. “Oz,” he said softly.
Oz jerked awake, sitting straight up. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was breathing hard. “Where … where am I?” he whispered.
Giles sat down at the end of the bed. “You’re in my house,” he said soothingly, reaching out to touch Oz’s shoulder.
“Your house?” Oz asked, finally starting to calm down.
“That’s right,” Giles murmured. He rubbed Oz’s back for a few minutes, feeling Oz’s body shake under his hand. “Nightmare?”
Oz gulped and nodded, rubbing his hair. “Yeah,” he said. “They … they don’t happen often, but … “
“Do you … want to talk about it?” Giles asked.
Oz scooted back so he was leaning against the headboard. He pulled the covers around his waist and sighed. “I’m back … in the Initiative. I’m … strapped down in that … Pit and … “ The tears started again and Oz dropped his head.
Giles moved to sit next to Oz and took a chance. He wrapped his arms around Oz and pulled him close, rubbing his back. “It was a nightmare,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”
Oz sniffed and rested his cheek on Giles’ shoulder, his nose pressed against Giles’ neck. He breathed deep and enjoyed the dark, earthy scent that met his nose. Giles always smelled like … earth with a bit of something dark behind it. It was an intoxicating scent.
“You’re safe,” Giles breathed, a hand trailing up to entrench itself in Oz’s dark red locks. He gently caressed Oz’s hair, humming softly. Oz’s hair was soft, slightly textured, but silky, too. Giles sighed and continued to stroke Oz’s hair, smiling to himself as he felt Oz nuzzle in closer.
“Feel safe,” Oz murmured, leaning into Giles’ touch. He sighed and wrapped his arms around the older man, burrowing into Giles’ warmth.
Giles sighed and pulled Oz in closer, pressing his nose to Oz’s hair. “Good,” he murmured against Oz’s scalp. “Oh Daniel … “
Oz blinked. It had been a while since he’d heard his given name, so used to hearing people call him Oz. He looked up into Giles’ eyes.
“Forgive me,” Giles said, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Oz’s lips. He sighed when he felt the young man’s lips give under his. He deepened the kiss for a brief moment before pulling back.
“Forgiveness not necessary,” Oz said, his cheeks tinted pink.
Giles smiled and cupped Oz’s cheek. “That’s good,” he said, running his thumb along Oz’s cheekbone. “Where were you headed next? You‘d said something about the States?”
Oz leaned in, resting his head on Giles’ shoulder. “It’s not important."
Pairing: Giles/Oz
Author:
cinderella81Rating: G
Summary: Two years after the destruction, Giles is living Bath. He runs into someone he never expected to see again.
It was cold. Colder than he thought it’d be. Daniel Osbourne, otherwise known as Oz to those around him, wandered through the streets of Bath, England, looking for a place to rest his feet. He’d been wandering the world for years, bunking with other werewolves or finding hostels to crash for a while.
It had been an interesting few years. After Willow and Tara and the Initiative … Oz needed space … peace. He’d gone back to Tibet and studied with the monks. He’d also found packs around the world … studied with them as well, trying to find a way to be at peace with his inner demons.
He had received emails from Xander of all people, updating him on the goings on in Sunnydale. He’d heard about them blowing the city to hell and mentally congratulated them for a job well done. That place attracted evil like a … well, a Hellmouth.
Oz sighed and caught sight of a tea house and made his way across the road. He sighed as he stepped inside. It was warm, and Oz could feel the heat sink into his bones.
His eyes adjusted to the darkened room, and an old familiar figure caught his gaze. The man was older, more gray, but it was him.
“Mr. Giles?”
Rupert Giles sipped his tea quietly. His life had taken an interesting turn after the destruction of Sunnydale and the creation of a virtual army of Slayers. He’d assisted in the rebuilding of the Watchers, making sure that competent people were in charge. And then, he retired. He’d lived a long, and very exciting life … he deserved some peace.
“Mr. Giles?”
Giles knew that voice … hadn’t heard it in years. He turned around and smiled a bit. Oz hadn’t changed that much. He stood in the doorway, red hair standing up in random spikes as always. He was wearing worn hiking boots, well worn jeans, white t-shirt, flannel and a corduroy jacket with fleece collar. Over his shoulder was an army issue duffel bag, stuffed full.
“Oz,” Giles said. “How … I’m surprised to see you.”
Oz cracked a rare smile. “I’m surprised too,” he admitted.
“What are you doing in Bath?” Giles asked, motioning for Oz to join him.
“I arrived here purely by accident,” Oz said, sitting at the table next to the former Sunnydale High School librarian. “I’ve been traveling around the world, learning from different packs.”
“And you’re here now because?” Giles asked, taking a sip of tea.
“Just a stop on my way back to the States, actually,” Oz replied. “I stopped in here to get warm before finding a place to crash for the night.” Fingers with black nail polish mussed the red spikes and Oz shrugged a bit. “Figured there’s gotta be a hostel around that I can stay at.”
“Perish the thought,” Giles said. “I have a house just outside town with plenty of space. You can stay with me for as long as you need.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Oz murmured.
“No bother,” Giles said. “It’ll just be like when everyone used to camp out at my flat during one of our research sessions … although with less of the ear splitting noise that Buffy used to listen to.”
Oz chuckled softly and stretched. “Thank you,” he said.
* * *
A few hours later, Oz was comfortably resting in the spacious guest room in Giles’ home. The evening had been interesting; he and the former mentor/librarian had shared a few glasses of brandy and shared stories of their adventures.
Oz could admit to himself that Rupert Giles was an attractive man. The years had been kind to him, and there was an aura of … something alluring around the older man. Oz sighed to himself and sank under the covers, hoping for a peaceful sleep.
Down the hall, Rupert Giles lay in his own bed, trying (and failing) to sleep. Seeing Oz after so long had been a shock and a surprise. There had always been a quiet confidence around the young werewolf and a few years of traveling the work had done nothing but enhance it.
Giles closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The time passed; each tick of the clock felt like a lifetime. Just as he was finally starting to drift off, he heard a sound come from the guest room.
A whimper.
Giles was silent, ears strained to pick up any noise. He’d just about decided that it’d been his imagination … until he’d heard it again. The whimper was louder this time, more pained.
Giles tugged on a shirt and padded carefully down the hall. The closer he got to Oz’s room, the louder the whimpers became. Giles opened the door a crack and the sight that met his eyes nearly broke his heart.
Oz was curled up in a ball at the end of the bed. He was whining and jerking, as though trying to protect himself from attack.
Giles stepped inside and moved to the end of the bed. “Oz,” he said softly.
Oz jerked awake, sitting straight up. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was breathing hard. “Where … where am I?” he whispered.
Giles sat down at the end of the bed. “You’re in my house,” he said soothingly, reaching out to touch Oz’s shoulder.
“Your house?” Oz asked, finally starting to calm down.
“That’s right,” Giles murmured. He rubbed Oz’s back for a few minutes, feeling Oz’s body shake under his hand. “Nightmare?”
Oz gulped and nodded, rubbing his hair. “Yeah,” he said. “They … they don’t happen often, but … “
“Do you … want to talk about it?” Giles asked.
Oz scooted back so he was leaning against the headboard. He pulled the covers around his waist and sighed. “I’m back … in the Initiative. I’m … strapped down in that … Pit and … “ The tears started again and Oz dropped his head.
Giles moved to sit next to Oz and took a chance. He wrapped his arms around Oz and pulled him close, rubbing his back. “It was a nightmare,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”
Oz sniffed and rested his cheek on Giles’ shoulder, his nose pressed against Giles’ neck. He breathed deep and enjoyed the dark, earthy scent that met his nose. Giles always smelled like … earth with a bit of something dark behind it. It was an intoxicating scent.
“You’re safe,” Giles breathed, a hand trailing up to entrench itself in Oz’s dark red locks. He gently caressed Oz’s hair, humming softly. Oz’s hair was soft, slightly textured, but silky, too. Giles sighed and continued to stroke Oz’s hair, smiling to himself as he felt Oz nuzzle in closer.
“Feel safe,” Oz murmured, leaning into Giles’ touch. He sighed and wrapped his arms around the older man, burrowing into Giles’ warmth.
Giles sighed and pulled Oz in closer, pressing his nose to Oz’s hair. “Good,” he murmured against Oz’s scalp. “Oh Daniel … “
Oz blinked. It had been a while since he’d heard his given name, so used to hearing people call him Oz. He looked up into Giles’ eyes.
“Forgive me,” Giles said, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Oz’s lips. He sighed when he felt the young man’s lips give under his. He deepened the kiss for a brief moment before pulling back.
“Forgiveness not necessary,” Oz said, his cheeks tinted pink.
Giles smiled and cupped Oz’s cheek. “That’s good,” he said, running his thumb along Oz’s cheekbone. “Where were you headed next? You‘d said something about the States?”
Oz leaned in, resting his head on Giles’ shoulder. “It’s not important."
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