Part Last - Birthday Present for Kate
Can you teach me how to fight? Show me what it's like, to give back pain.
Oz/Andrew slash, post-ftvs
Oz and Andrew belong to Monseuir Whedon
Lyrics by The Junior Boys
They were all entangled, tangled up on both the inside and the outside.
Andrew had to pee really badly, but the last thing he wanted to do was to get up. The boy sex smell was everywhere and Oz was dozing quietly on his shoulder, barely making a sound. The tangled sleeping bag had woven them together while day had turned to night outside the van. He could see the door to the shop only a sidewalk's length away from them. And he knew, like Luke, he must leave this dead planet and adventure forth. Not for revenge (he didn't want to become a sith lord after all!) but to create a better world. Trading the peace inside himself to others without peace. He thought he better write that down before he forgot it. He could totally say that in a triumphant hero moment. Unable to hold back nature's call any longer, he began the terrifying detangle process.
Oz was not asleep. Meditation was more the state he was in. Holding the moment, the calm, the boy, letting it wash over him. The future would be as it always was, uncertain and difficult, but for now the heavy weight has been lifted for a moment. He both wanted to push Andrew away and draw him close. It was almost as though he did not deserve such peace and he certainly had not really expected it to feel like this. He had done it for Andrew, for human contact, not to ease his burden of death.
He began to feel Andrew stir beneath him.
"Oz?" Andrew breathed into his hair, "I totally have to pee. Um, will you be here when I get back?"
Oz nodded.
Andrew pulled his pants up over his hips, running a hand through his hair, always conscious of his looks. Oz liked the look of him, shirtless and messy. The temptation to draw him back into the makeshift bed was difficult to resist. But, then Oz was good at resisting.
Andrew pulled the door of the van open, padded across the sidewalk to the store to pee. It seemed to hold none of the energy and promise that it once had, when Faith was there. Especially in comparison with the van, with Oz. He went downstairs, used the toilet and grabbed the few things that mattered to him: clothes, dice, notebook and pictures. Questions were swirling around his brain: Would Oz let him go with him? Should he just go off by himself, like a lonely hero? Was he going to poop funny later? Shaking his head, the thoughts only got louder and he knew he was faced with one of the biggest choices of his life.
Oz waited in the van, contemplating some of the same things. He shrugged to himself, dismissing the cloud of thoughts. To begin together will be good, to leave later, comes later. He knew the best way to live was to worry about the future when it comes. For right now, their paths away from Cleveland seemed to lay in the same direction. Andrew was a follower, but Oz never wanted to be the leader. To fill Andrew's needed role of boss. He decided to let him make his own choice, force Andrew to tell Oz what he wanted.
Andrew stumbled back upstairs, pulled the door to the shop closed, hoping to never see it again. Resolve in his heart, he opened the door to the van. He saw Oz laying on his back, eyes wide open to the ceiling of the van.
"I can't follow for the rest of my life," Andrew said,
Oz sat up on little on his elbows and turned torwards Andrew. How was this going to turn out? Life, pretty much unknowable, was at it again. To follow was easy, an easy pattern to fall into. To be partners, to be equal was not something that Oz was sure Andrew could actually put into practice. But Oz wanted to see him try.
"But I don't know how to lead either."
Oz/Andrew slash, post-ftvs
Oz and Andrew belong to Monseuir Whedon
Lyrics by The Junior Boys
They were all entangled, tangled up on both the inside and the outside.
Andrew had to pee really badly, but the last thing he wanted to do was to get up. The boy sex smell was everywhere and Oz was dozing quietly on his shoulder, barely making a sound. The tangled sleeping bag had woven them together while day had turned to night outside the van. He could see the door to the shop only a sidewalk's length away from them. And he knew, like Luke, he must leave this dead planet and adventure forth. Not for revenge (he didn't want to become a sith lord after all!) but to create a better world. Trading the peace inside himself to others without peace. He thought he better write that down before he forgot it. He could totally say that in a triumphant hero moment. Unable to hold back nature's call any longer, he began the terrifying detangle process.
Oz was not asleep. Meditation was more the state he was in. Holding the moment, the calm, the boy, letting it wash over him. The future would be as it always was, uncertain and difficult, but for now the heavy weight has been lifted for a moment. He both wanted to push Andrew away and draw him close. It was almost as though he did not deserve such peace and he certainly had not really expected it to feel like this. He had done it for Andrew, for human contact, not to ease his burden of death.
He began to feel Andrew stir beneath him.
"Oz?" Andrew breathed into his hair, "I totally have to pee. Um, will you be here when I get back?"
Oz nodded.
Andrew pulled his pants up over his hips, running a hand through his hair, always conscious of his looks. Oz liked the look of him, shirtless and messy. The temptation to draw him back into the makeshift bed was difficult to resist. But, then Oz was good at resisting.
Andrew pulled the door of the van open, padded across the sidewalk to the store to pee. It seemed to hold none of the energy and promise that it once had, when Faith was there. Especially in comparison with the van, with Oz. He went downstairs, used the toilet and grabbed the few things that mattered to him: clothes, dice, notebook and pictures. Questions were swirling around his brain: Would Oz let him go with him? Should he just go off by himself, like a lonely hero? Was he going to poop funny later? Shaking his head, the thoughts only got louder and he knew he was faced with one of the biggest choices of his life.
Oz waited in the van, contemplating some of the same things. He shrugged to himself, dismissing the cloud of thoughts. To begin together will be good, to leave later, comes later. He knew the best way to live was to worry about the future when it comes. For right now, their paths away from Cleveland seemed to lay in the same direction. Andrew was a follower, but Oz never wanted to be the leader. To fill Andrew's needed role of boss. He decided to let him make his own choice, force Andrew to tell Oz what he wanted.
Andrew stumbled back upstairs, pulled the door to the shop closed, hoping to never see it again. Resolve in his heart, he opened the door to the van. He saw Oz laying on his back, eyes wide open to the ceiling of the van.
"I can't follow for the rest of my life," Andrew said,
Oz sat up on little on his elbows and turned torwards Andrew. How was this going to turn out? Life, pretty much unknowable, was at it again. To follow was easy, an easy pattern to fall into. To be partners, to be equal was not something that Oz was sure Andrew could actually put into practice. But Oz wanted to see him try.
"But I don't know how to lead either."