Title: Payment in Kind; or, Male Bonding
Author: meagan <nutmeg@serv.net>
Summary: Oz makes good use of Giles' vinyl collection. Not really slash, but it could possibly be interpreted that way. So theoretically, possible pre-slash.
Distribution: Please ask.
Spoiler: "Harsh Light of Day" (but no plot stuff. Just character detail. In case that makes a difference)
Rating: I don't know. No sex, violence, or swearing, but lots and lots of drug use. PG due to lack of sex/violence/swearing? R due to illegal activity not viewed/treated negatively?
Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. If they were mine, things would be different. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB, and anyone else I forgot.
Feedback: I save it and read it whenever I need a happy.
Note: The day I wrote this was apparently (if the radio can be believed) the thirtieth anniversary of the release of _Abbey Road_, so I had to toss that in. Also, *anyone* who owns _Loaded_ is automatically, ahem, fond of the weed (so says the chick with magenta hair and three versions of the album). And I can't believe that anyone who owns _Loaded_ would not also own _Velvet Underground & Nico_ or _Abbey Road_. Projecting here, but I don't care. Also, there's no way I will *ever* be convinced that Giles was smoking cigarettes in "Band Candy."
Dedicated to my mom who let me take her vinyl copy of _The Doors_ but is refusing to let me have _Cosmo's Factory_, _Willie & the Poor Boys_, _Abbey Road_, and a bunch of other vinyl that she didn't even realize she *owned* until my father found me raiding their collection a couple of years ago. The nerve.
Also dedicated to a couple of friends who will never, ever see this: Shamus, for hosting many semi-memorable evenings at his place, and Jason, for (albeit unknowingly) influencing how I deal with Oz (each one reminds me of the other).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as he opened the door, it hit him. The aroma he knew very well had not been hanging in the air when he had left earlier, leaving Oz behind to wait for the news that all was clear again.

"Oh, hey, you're back." Giles watched with amazement as Oz meandered into the living room, holding a bag of chips, a bottle of water, and a bong. "Don't worry. I didn't raid your stash."

"My stash?"

Oz smirked. "Oh, come on. You know what I'm talking about." He paused at the record player and dropped the needle before sitting down in the middle of the floor. "Anyway, my stuff's better." Giles could only continue to stare in shock as Oz flicked his lighter over the bowl and inhaled deeply. And then Oz held the tube up in offering to Giles. When Giles didn't take him up on the offer, Oz shrugged and placed it on a nearby low table before stretching out on the floor.

"Oz --"

"Shh." Oz bent one leg and propped the other on the bent knee, bobbing his foot in time to the music. "You know, as much as I like this album, I could really do without Nico."

Now Giles sat on the floor crosslegged, contemplating the green plastic between them. "Oz, why are you here?"

"Music." He closed his eyes. They remained in semi-comfortable silence, Oz contemplating the sounds coming out of the speakers, Giles considering the teen and his drugs, until the album ended. "Your pick now."

"No." Oz opened one eye and gazed at Giles as best he could. "I'm going to take a shower now. I'll reserve my pick until after." Giles turned his attention back to the bong. "Are you serious about sharing?"

"Of course." Oz closed his eyes again. "That is, as long as you flip the record before you go."

"I can do that." Task completed, he picked up the bong. "So, where's the hole?"

"Slide carb. Pull out the stem."

He reflected how very long it had been since he had held a bong. Joints just didn't have the same effect. For one thing, smoke not filtered through water was harsher. For another... Well, really that was the key difference. Mellower smoke was easier to underestimate. As he inhaled, he realized that, while he could *see* the smoke filling the tube and moving into his mouth, he couldn't *feel* anything. Specifically, no harsh burning sensation in his throat and lungs. He exhaled, observing the cloud of smoke emerging from mouth and nose. So the smoke had made it in his system. Just in case the non-feeling was accurate, he took another deep hit.

Halfway to the bathroom, the hits took effect in a big way. He wondered how much of it was because of the fact that he was back to a bong for the first time in years and how much was due to the quality of Oz's supply. Then he realized that he really didn't care. He briefly contemplated taking a bath rather than a shower (soaking while stoned was incredibly soothing, after all), but then he decided that a shower with the lights off would be like standing outside naked during a rainstorm. Very enticing at that particular moment.

Twenty minutes later, he was bathed and dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt -- perfect lounging clothing. To his utter and complete non-surprise, Oz was still sprawled on his living room floor. Giles smiled and turned his attention to the record player.

"Hey, side two. Good choice." So Oz was still alive. "I never did understand how a barefoot Paul McCartney meant a *dead* Paul McCartney. Even after someone explained that corpses are usually barefoot in their caskets, it doesn't make sense." He nodded in time to the music. "Hey, this could be our song."

Giles nodded, reaching for the bong once again. To his surprise, the bowl had a fresh load.

"Giles?"

"Hmm?"

"This is nice. Can we do this again?"

Giles didn't answer for a long moment. Oz finally sat up and turned to him in concern, but that evaporated when Oz realized the reason for Giles' silence. Finally, the older man exhaled slowly while speaking, aiming the smoke away from Oz's face. "Tell you what. Bring this stuff, and you can come over any time you want."

Oz returned to his prone position, gazing at the ceiling. "Payment in kind?"

Giles hadn't realized how harsh pot smoke was when forced through his nose by snorting laughter. He briefly thanked whatever forces had him not drinking root beer at that moment. "You've been hanging out with too many deadheads."

Oz sat up quickly. "Whoa. Head rush. Cool." Now he turned his attention to Giles. "And just who do you think I get this stuff from?"

"Ah. Point taken." He attempted to think clearly for one moment. "How about... male bonding?"

"Hmm." Oz mulled it over while he took another hit. "Okay."

Silence -- well, the absence of speech, since the sounds of the _Abbey Road_ medley prevented silence -- descended once again. Then, finally, Giles spoke again. "I want some chips. And maybe Jell-o."

Oz grinned. "Cheetos, Doritos, or potato? Cool ranch or nacho cheese? Barbecue, sour cream and onion, or rosemary? And raspberry, peach, or lime?"

Giles stared at him for a long moment. "Oz, I think I love you." Oz's lack of response made him uneasy, causing Giles to wonder if he had overstepped a boundary.

But Oz finally spoke, just as Giles was preparing to apologize. "Quoting the Partridge Family already? So, should I tell you about that box of Nutter Butters?"

~~~ the end ~~~