Shacking Up, 12
By
EntreNous
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Chapter Twenty: Night Out (part one)
Oz set his guitar in the stand and walked off stage after Devon. The earlier set was never as interesting -- younger kids who either ignored them or stepped all over each other in their haste to get a closer view of Devon’s crotch. Devon ignored most of them, but for some reason that seemed to get them more cranked up. Oz could see Devon trying to back away from a persistent group of chirruping admirers right now. Hard to move fast in tight low-slung leather jeans, though.
The bassist, Tianhu, tossed Oz a water bottle and shook his head despairingly. “Seven o’clock shows, man. It ain’t right. And look at this! I’m all smudged.” He batted his eyelashes with a pitiful flutter as they headed for a table on the side of the club.
“Little early for you?” Oz observed.
“Goddamn right it is,” Tianhu said with a snarl made slightly less effective by his sweet face. “Fucking fourteen year olds out there, and I’m *still* drunk from last night.”
“An impressive feat,” Oz stated before tipping the water bottle back to drink.
Zack stumbled towards them with drumsticks still in hand.
“I just got up at sundown,” Tianhu shrugged as Zack joined them.
“Anyone ever tell you that you keep vampire hours?” Oz asked with a raised brow.
“Anyone ever tell you that you should shut the fuck up?” Tianhu said merrily, and flicked Oz’s green boa so that it wrapped around his shoulders again.
“Yeah, Osbourne,” Zack chimed in with glee. “You talk too much.”
Oz shrugged, and stole Tianhu’s half-full water bottle.
“Can’t keep his trap shut,” Devon agreed, coming up from behind them. He took off his rhinestone neck choker and tossed it at Tianhu, who put it on absently.
“And people wonder why I’m so reticent,” Oz commented, grabbing Devon’s water and hoarding it with his stash.
“Nice eye-shadow, by the way,” Tianhu complimented Zack.
“You like? MAC -- Pink Freeze.” Zack preened as they all nodded gravely at him.
“That was a great set.”
Oz shifted his gaze over to the newcomer, a thin guy with floppy dark hair and glasses. “Thanks,” he shrugged. “You should stick around for the next one.”
“Yeah, I probably will. Haven’t seen you guys play before.”
“Then you’ve gotta be new in town,” Zack said decidedly. “We’re one of three or four bands that make up the permanent ‘scene’ here. We get other ones coming through, but we’re Sunnydale born, bred, and based, man.”
“That explains it then. I just started at UC Sunnydale -- transferred here. I’m Nathan, by the way.”
Devon pointed around the table. “That’s Tianhu, there’s Zack, I’m Devon, and this charming creature is Oz.”
“Hey,” Oz said.
“Need any more water?” Nathan asked, a slight smile on his lips. He held out an unopened water bottle to Oz.
“It’s important to stay well-hydrated.” Oz explained, and accepted the offering.
“Why does he get to have all the water?” Tianhu murmured plaintively to Zack.
“Well, we’re headed out to the diner round the corner for burgers. We’ll be back a little before ten, okay?” Zack asked, and moved off with Tianhu when Oz nodded at them. “We’ll get you all the water you want there,” they heard him reassuring Tianhu as he pushed him towards the exit.
“You see that?” Devon griped. “I’m the lead singer, but everyone cops to Oz. He’s the real leader of the band.”
“Kind of like Michael Nesmith was with the Monkees,” Nathan offered.
“True,” Oz noted. “He was, though he rarely sang. Fine vocal stylings in the song ‘Sweet Young Thing’, however.”
“Always been partial to ‘You Just May be the One’ myself,” Nathan contributed.
“God, the Monkees sucked! What are you both going on about?” Devon asked in exasperation. “Listen, I’m going to find those annoying chicks and make them buy me dinner. I’ll be back, okay?” Devon waited expectantly for Oz’s nod, and then went off in search of his fans.
“You make a good noise,” Nathan commented.
“Joyful even,” Oz agreed.
There was a long pause, but neither one of them seemed uncomfortable.
Oz finished the already-opened water. He smirked a little when Nathan slid the one he’d brought over to him on the table. For some reason, the new bottle seemed to amuse him. He held it out and appraised it briefly.
“Do you always go around giving out bottled water to men you’ve never met before?” Oz asked.
“Nah. You’re a special case,” Nathan returned. He leaned back in his chair and waited openly for the reply.
Oz cocked his head to the side as he pondered this statement. “Staying for the next set?”
Oz held out the water bottle in Nathan’s direction, and Nathan took a swig before handing it over again.
“Should I?” Nathan asked smoothly. “What happens after the next set that makes sticking around worth it?”
Nonchalantly, Oz offered, “Well, for one thing you can meet my girlfriend.”
“Oh, okay,” Nathan nodded guardedly, an odd look on his face.
“And she can meet you,” Oz continued. He glanced at Nathan to catch his reaction.
“Right,” Nathan replied slowly. He squinted a little, studying Oz intently.
Oz met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. Then he shifted his attention to the entrance of the club. “In fact . . . ”
Nathan turned to the left a little and saw Willow darting around the tables, obviously in search of someone. She spotted Oz, and gave a little wave as she began to head over to them. He swiveled back to Oz and shook his head in amusement.
“Yeah. That I’ll stay for.”
***
Spike scanned the dance floor with a scowl. Too many heartbeats, too many scents of young people and their overcomplicated emotions. Sometimes coming to the Bronze entertained him precisely because of these stimulants, but tonight they were a distraction.
He needed to keep his head on straight about this, after all. Xander would clearly jump ship if he knew right now if he even suspected that Spike could want more out of their interactions than just friendship. The boy fancied himself straight, after all, and had probably never harbored a single fantasy about sex with a man.
It had been over a month since the Twinkie-tossing incident. Spike had had plenty of time since then to think about his furious reactions to Xander’s care-taking gestures. Of course, at the time he’d assumed he’d been in the right to throw whatever he’d wanted to at Xander. What was the boy after, treating him like that, without even talking about it?
It was the unspokenness of it all that had unnerved him, the way they’d both slipped so easily into a rhythm without figuring out what it was first off. When Spike had realized where his bath oil and smokes were coming from, he’d worked himself up into a fit over the assumptions that the gifts announced to him. He’d only gradually realized that he was angry about the half-assed deal he’d somehow acquiesced to with Xander. They had lived together, treated each other like they *were* together, without any of the real benefits of shacking up with someone. If he was expected to go on like he was half of a married couple, then where the hell was the sex?
But when he’d reacted in his muddled state, of course not getting the full picture yet, he’d never figured for setting off the chain of events that followed. And now Spike held his beer morosely and questioned why he’d let that daft Slayer and her minions wrestle him and the boy out of what had been a very nice living arrangement, thank you very much.
Maybe there was some hope of recovery after all. Xander’s lingering questions about why Spike had left without protest had hinted that. So what if Xander had never thought of men in that way -- he’d just have to convince him eventually. Spike had nothing if not plenty of time, and, despite what everyone thought of him, a hoard of patience when there was something he knew he wanted.
The only problem was that berk, Davy.
Spike hadn’t trusted the git -- he needed no more than a moment with Xander’s new roommate to figure that out. Davy might have seemed friendly, but Spike could sense a predator from a mile off. And despite his Big Bad status and long list of mortal victims, Spike had never been one to manipulate another into sex or a relationship. He preferred his comers eager and willing, agreeing to things on their own terms. Davy, however, he thought with fierce revulsion, struck him as the king of using a mind fuck to get a fuck.
He turned his gaze to the dance floor, watching the crowd with frank interest for a particular person.
***
Xander paced around the outside of the Bronze a few more times.
He didn’t want to seem like an overeager geek, getting there so early. But waiting at home had been torture, what with hoping that Davy wouldn’t get back and sense something weird before Xander left, and praying that Spike wouldn’t pick up on any odd vibes when they finally met for their date.
Date? No, not date, more like . . . something else. Something between two guys, two friends who definitely weren’t sleeping together, even if Xander couldn’t remember having any wet dreams about his male friends before.
Was there a word for that? For a pre-arranged, non-sexual friendly meeting with a guy you’d dreamed wanted to get you off?
Xander choked on nothing at all, bracing himself against the brick wall for stability.
He’d had enough twinges, buzzes, and rushes of sensation during the day when he remembered his dream to at least acknowledge that somehow, out of nowhere, he had become attracted to Spike. And Davy too, but that was a separate issue, or at least he hoped it was. The main thing tonight was not to let Spike know about Xander’s sudden lusty thoughts. They’d just begun to fix up their friendship recently, and Xander didn’t want to mess it up.
How could he want to mess around with Spike?!? Did the dream prove that he did want to get up close and personal with the vampire for sure, or was it some kind of fluke?
Maybe it was a spell. Or a curse. Or a dream-world from which he couldn’t wake? Crap!
Or what if he’d been whapped with some demon blood that made him get turned on by vampires? He had been feeling suspiciously itchy lately.
Or could Willow have messed with his mind mistakenly, getting him all hot for guys as she tried to cure her sniffles with a potent mix of lavender and iguana spleen?
Oh! Maybe he was trapped in an alternate dimension, a dimension where he was really, really, really gay?
Hang on! If this was an alternate dimension or part of a spell, then maybe he now had superpowers as well! Did he have x-ray vision? Staring at the brick wall in front of him revealed nothing. Or telekinetic powers? He flung his hand out in a precise motion, but the quarter he saw on the ground stayed put. Or . . . maybe he could fly?
Xander gave an experimental leap into the air, and almost crashed into the dumpster in the alley.
Finally, he just gave up and went inside.
Much to Xander’s surprise, Spike was there a little ahead of schedule as well. He could see him seated at the bar, surveying the room with a proprietary gaze. Xander took a deep breath, momentarily caught up in the sight of Spike holding his beer bottle loosely and leaning against the bar. Stupid alternate reality lust! Think unsexy thoughts, he admonished himself, unable to move from the spot he’d rooted himself to on the edge of the dance floor.
***