Title: More Than Words (SFA submission)
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Pairings: Giles/Oz, Xander/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All the characters and whatnots belong to J. Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, UPN, Kuzui Ent., and any other current rights holders. No infringement is intended.
Summary: Alternate to “Hush”. Giles gets a visitor, and Spike and Xander get curious.
Special Note: This is my entry for the Third Songfic Awards, in the new choose-your-own-song category. The song is “More Than Words” by Extreme.

Giles put down his guitar, smiling graciously in response to spattering of applause. It was a busy afternoon, and he was surprised and grateful that the coffee house crowd had taken time away from their various conversations to listen to him sing. He could think of no better therapy than using music to unload his emotional baggage on a bunch of strangers.

Today, however, they weren’t all strangers.

As Giles weaved his way through the tables to put his guitar away, a familiar face caught his eye. Oz was leaning casually against the far wall, his hands plunged deep in his pockets. With the tiniest of nods, Oz acknowledged Giles.

Giles smiled back at him uncertainly—he’d thought Oz had left town after his break-up with Willow. He deviated from his route and made his way over to the spiky-haired young man.

“Oz—this is a surprise,” said Giles by way of greeting.

“Nice song. You write it?” asked Oz.

“Yes, and it was dreadful, but thank-you just the same.”

“Don’t sell yourself short—it was good. I liked the lyrics. You’ve really got a way with words,” said Oz.

“Well, thank-you,” said Giles, flustered slightly by the compliment. “But I’m sure you didn’t come to hear me sing. Were you looking for Willow? Or-or Xander?”

“Actually, I did come to hear you sing, and it’s not the first time,” said Oz. “But I was also hoping we could talk.”

“Of course. I’ve got a table over there, if…”

“I was thinking something a little more private…where we can be alone.”

Giles looked at him with growing concern; “Is it something serious?” he asked.

“Not life and death, or anything, but yeah, to me it’s serious.”

“Then come by my flat around eight o’clock? I’d make it sooner, but if we want the place to ourselves, I’ve got to find a babysitter for my resident vampire.”

“Vampire?” asked Oz.

“Yes. Spike. It’s a long story, but essentially, he’s harmless now—and he’s a worse pain in the neck than when he was actively biting them. He natters on all day. And he watches soap operas. It’ll be a relief to get some peace and quiet for a change.”

Giles managed to get everyone out of his apartment, but not without raising a few suspicions (or, in Anya’s case, blunt speculations) as to who he was seeing and why. Judging from Oz’s behaviour earlier, Giles decided to keep his visit a secret from the others.

Eight o’clock rolled around with no sign of Oz. Then nine o’clock came and went. By ten-thirty, Giles started worrying that something had happened to him, and as he watched the minutes tick by, he wondered if he should get Buffy involved. He was about to pick up the phone, when there was a knock on the door.

“Where have you been?” asked Giles the second the door was open. “You had me worried.”

“Sorry, Giles,” said Oz. “To be honest, I nearly didn’t come at all. I had to stop along the way to find some courage.” He gave Giles a slanted grin, his heavy-lidded eyes looking slightly glazed and unfocused.

“You’re drunk,” said Giles, stating the obvious.

“Yes, I am,” he replied and stumbled past Giles into the apartment. “Can’t say I care much for the experience—I feel all out of control, and that’s a scary thing for a werewolf with control problems.”

Giles watched as Oz poured himself into a chair in the living room.

“Well, I’d offer you a drink, but…”

“Got any tequila?” asked Oz, jumping at the offer.

“No, I haven’t,” said Giles. “Oz—what’s wrong?”

“You know, it’s funny…I’ve been planning this conversation for so long, I had it all figured out. I knew exactly how it was supposed to go. But now that I’m here…and you’re here…and we’re here together alone… This is a bad idea. Maybe I should just go.” Oz tried to get out of the chair, but the alcohol in his system had turned his limbs to rubber. Helplessly, he looked up at Giles. “Can you help me up?”

Instead of helping him up, Giles sat down on the sofa facing him and said; “Take a deep breath and relax. Whatever it is you have to say, it can’t be all that bad. Remember who you’re talking to—there’s nothing you could tell me that would surprise me in the least.”

“That’s what you think,” said Oz, and after searching in Giles’ eyes for a nerve-wracking moment, he got up and started pacing.

Giles frowned inwardly. He had a feeling he knew what this was about. He just wasn’t sure what he should do if he was right.

Xander turned over in bed and glared daggers at the bleach-blond vampire tied to the chair. He hadn’t stopped gabbing since the lights went out, and Xander had managed (heroically, he felt) not to stake the undead menace. He’d been able to block out the annoying cadence of Spike’s voice…at least, until he’d started singing. Now he was on thirty-five bottles of beer, and Xander’s head was about to implode.

“Please…and I’m begging now…will you shut up?!” Xander shouted.

“What’s in it for me, then?” asked Spike, completely unruffled by the anger in Xander’s voice.

“You get to remain in an un-Hooverable state,” said Xander.

Spike just snorted; “That’s an empty threat, and we both know it. The Slayer would have your head if you staked a poor, defenceless vampire.” He batted his lashes at Xander innocently.

“I’ll take my chances,” said Xander. “How’d I end up on fang duty anyway? It’s highly irresponsible of Giles to leave you with me, knowing how much I want you dust.”

“Well, that’s what the promise of a good shag will do to you,” said Spike, emphasizing his meaning by running his tongue seductively over his teeth.

“You obviously don’t know Giles. It would take a lot more than a piece of a… action to make him shirk his duties.”

“Care to make a little wager?” asked Spike. “I happen to know your watcher better than you think—certainly better than you do—and I know for a fact that he’s just a man, with the same needs and desires as all other men. Plus on or two others he wouldn’t want the likes of you to know about.”

Xander smirked. “You’re on, Blondie. Ten bucks says Giles is strictly above board.”

“Fine,” Spike agreed. “So untie me and we’ll go have a look.”

“Yeah, right! Do you think I’m stupid?” asked Xander. “And don’t you dare answer that,’ he warned immediately.

“How else am I gonna to prove your stuffy old watcher is gettin’ his rocks off as we speak?”

Xander was about to suggest they could simply ask him in the morning, but he dismissed the idea as ridiculous. (Hey, Giles—just out of curiosity, did you get laid last night? No? Didn’t think so. Thanks.) Like it or not, Spike was right. But he’d be damned if he’d set the vampire loose while he was in charge.

Then a little cartoon light bulb went off over his head and he grinned wickedly at Spike.

“What?” asked Spike, warily.

Xander dug around in his dad’s tool chest, found a length of rope and made a slip knot at one end. He smiled proudly and approached the unwanted house-guest.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” asked Spike, dripping with sarcasm.

“No. You’re supposed to behave.”

“Or what? You’ll hang me?”

“Not exactly,” said Xander, freeing Spike’s torso from the chair and tying the rope around his chest so the knot was out of reach in the middle of his back. Then he took the noose end and slipped it over his own head.

“Bit kinky,” said Spike with a twinkle in his ice-blue eyes. “And here I thought you were strictly a missionary position man.”

“Shut-up, Spike,” he retorted. He was too tired to come up with a better come-back, and he decided he’d have to start filing a few premium barbs away for this kind of situation.

When he’d finished untying Spike from the chair, he headed for the door. Spike sat there, refusing to follow, and when Xander reached the end of the rope, the noose tightened painfully around his neck.

Spike yelled and fell to the floor, clawing at his head in an attempt to end the pain as his chip fired. Xander loosened the knot around his throat and stood over Spike triumphantly.

“I suggest you try to keep up,” he said. “And I wouldn’t wander too far away from me unless you enjoy these little migraines.”

Spike scowled at him, but he had to admire the ingenuity—the kid showed more balls than he would have anticipated.

Oz was sobering up. And losing his nerve. Maybe it was just the alcohol warping his perception of things, but Oz could swear Giles was looking at him differently. Not in a bad way, as such—but in a very un-Gilesy, whole-new-light kind of way. He supposed it should have made things easier, but instead it just made him more nervous. He got the impression the older man already knew how he felt about him and wasn’t saying anything, and Oz didn’t know what to make of that.

And so far Oz had managed to say everything except the one thing he’d come there to say. He’d covered the painful subject of Willow and his reasons for leaving her. He’d explained that he’d become a different person than the Oz she’d started dating in high school, and he didn’t just mean the werewolf thing. He’d said that he loved Willow and always would, but he could never love her the way she wanted him to. He’d even hinted that there was a certain man he’d been thinking about a lot lately…but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to come out and say it.

And to make things worse, the whole time he was pouring out his soul, Giles sat there, listening patiently. And as he listened, he fixed Oz with a gaze so sweet and full of promise it made Oz’s heart pound. It seemed like all his blood was being redirected to a part of his body that was having no trouble expressing itself.

“Well?” asked Oz, after dropping enough hints to get his point across. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I think the question is…aren’t you?” Giles stood and gracefully sauntered over to Oz. “Why did you come here tonight, Oz?”

Oz squirmed minutely. This was it—the big moment. Oz was about to admit something to Giles that he’d only recently admitted to himself. Sweaty and trembling, Oz lifted his eyes to meet Giles’ and opened his mouth to say the words…

…and nothing came out.

He tried again, but there was nothing—not even a tiny peep where his voice should be.

Giles attempted to urge him on, but ran into the same problem. He frowned and tried again. Nothing. Great, he thought to himself. A few more seconds…the stupid Hellmouth couldn’t wait a few more bloody seconds!

Desperately wanting to salvage the moment, Oz held up his finger and rushed over to the stereo. Quickly flipping through Giles’ albums for an appropriate choice, his eyes lit up when he came across one that he’d thought looked out of place. A hard-rock album…but with one song that was perfect. He popped the vinyl onto the turntable and lined up that song.

Giles joined him, confused as to why Oz had decided to put on some heavy metal music. When the needle dropped and a gentle guitar strain filled the air, Giles grinned and would have laughed if he’d had the voice to do so. He recognised the song immediately—and he knew exactly why Oz had chosen to play it.

//Saying I Love You, is not the words I want to hear from you. It’s not that I want you not to say, but if you only knew how easy it would be to show me how you feel, More than words is all you have to do to make it real, then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me. I’d already know.//

Spike had finally stopped talking, and Xander sighed gratefully. He hadn’t really been listening, so he didn’t notice that Spike had stopped talking right in the middle of a word.

Spike tapped him on the shoulder, but Xander ignored him. So he tapped him on the shoulder again, and kept on tapping until Xander spun around and yelled at him to cut it out.

Or tried to, at least.

Xander’s eyes went wide and his hands flew to his throat as if the rope had somehow rendered him speechless. He glared at the blond vampire accusingly. Spike shrugged, and with an angelic expression mouthed the words: Don’t blame me.

Xander huffed noiselessly and dragged Spike double-time through the courtyard to Giles’ apartment. Giles would fix this. Hell—he was probably already elbow deep in research. He reached the door and was about to knock when Spike grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

Yanking himself free of the vampire’s grip, Xander shoved him away in annoyance. Spike, however, determinedly grabbed his arm again and steered him over to the window. With a smug look and a nod of his head, Spike gestured through the window to the two men inside.

Going along out of curiosity, Xander peeked into the window and saw Giles and Oz standing together by the stereo. Okay, he admitted, it was a little odd. But certainly nothing to lose his bet over…

Oz looked sidelong at Giles, knowing that he’d been forced to show his hand early, and petrified that he’d made a terrible mistake. He felt a flood of relief when he saw the smile on Giles’ face as the song spoke for him. Oz took a tentative step closer to Giles, less frightened of rejection than he had been at the start, but still unsure how to proceed. As if in answer, the song’s words offered up a suggestion:

//Now that I’ve tried to talk to you and make you understand. All you have to do is close your eyes and just reach out your hand and touch me. Hold me close, don’t ever let me go. More than words is all I ever needed you to show, then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me, ‘cause I’d already know.//

Oz tilted his head up and looked deep into Giles’ eyes for a long moment. He saw in those green eyes a sorely-tested restraint, a little fear …and an undeniable attraction. Trusting his actions to speak for him, Oz let his eyelids drop and blindly felt his way up Giles’ chest to wrap his arms around his neck.

Giles wanted to protest. He knew it was wrong—Oz was hurting, and turned to him for comfort. But this was not the kind of comfort Oz needed right now. He needed a friend, not a lover. And had he been able to speak, Giles would have told him as much. But he couldn’t speak, and without his words to hide behind, Giles’ feelings for the young man were all too obvious. As Oz drew himself closer, Giles fought to slow his breathing, fought to reign in his desires before it was too late.

But it was already too late—Oz’s lips somehow managed to find his own, and with a gentle but incessant pressure, were pleading with him to return the kiss. Giles rationalized that turning him down at this point would be cruel. Certainly one chaste kiss, just to let him know someone understood and cared for him, wouldn’t do any harm. Giles allowed his arm to encircle the small man’s waist and kissed back.

Oz smiled against Giles’ lips when he felt him responding at last. It had taken so long he was starting to think he’d made a disastrous error in judgement. But here he was, doing what he’d only dreamt of doing for so long. Feeling a bit bolder, Oz slid his tongue along Giles’ mouth, and was immediately rewarded with an answering tongue.

Giles wasn’t sure how it had gotten so far out of control. The little, chaste kiss had grown all out of proportion and he was powerless to stop it. Their mouths clashed with mutual greed, battling to express in this one embrace all the feelings they’d never allowed themselves to voice aloud.

Spike had seen enough to feel secure in his victory over Xander Harris. Now it was time to get his voice back. He tapped Xander on the shoulder, then turned and headed for the door. Xander didn’t go with him, however, and for the second time that night Spike’s head rocked with an explosion of pain. When his vision finally cleared enough to see again, he shot Xander a murderous glare.

Completely oblivious, Xander absently loosened the rope around his throat and kept gawking through the window. It couldn’t be real, he thought. He couldn’t be seeing what he thought he was seeing. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was too bizarre a sight to be dismissed so quickly. He watched, thinking that if he watched long enough it would start to make sense…either that or he’d wake up, scratch himself, turn over and go back to sleep. Because this had to be a dream—why else would the sight of Giles and Oz kissing be turning him on?

Spike snuck up on Xander, his mind racing to come up with an appropriate revenge. He thought of pounding on the window, announcing their presence to the two men inside. Giles would be furious with Xander for spying on him. But then, he’d also be furious with Spike, and the last thing he needed right now was a brassed-off watcher on his case.

Xander still hadn’t noticed Spike standing right next to him. It was like he was entranced. And Spike realized with no end of glee that Xander’s loose-fitting chinos were starting to fit a lot less loosely. Revenge was at hand.

Literally.

Xander shifted uncomfortably, trying to relieve the building pressure in his pants. The world had narrowed down to just him and the Mystical Window of Porn. Gay porn, perhaps, but porn nonetheless, and that meant Xander was obligated to watch. And wonder. And drool…

The pressure down below suddenly and unexpectedly disappeared, replaced by a cool draftiness that intrigued him. It wasn’t enough to pry his eyes away from the MWoP, but it did at least register in his mind as something unusual that he should look into…eventually.

It took him a while to realize it wasn’t just his vivid imagination—he actually could feel the hand-job Oz was receiving. At last he looked down and gasped inaudibly at the sight that awaited him: Spike, kneeling in front of him, intently focused on bringing him off.

Xander waited for the revulsion and fury to take hold of him, but his body had an entirely different agenda. His cock stood proud, basking in the caresses of Spike’s experienced hands. Xander swallowed frantically and looked away, but that only brought him back to the sight of Giles slowly stripping Oz of his clothing, leaving him naked and unmistakeably rigid and throbbing.

Ohgod,ohgod,ohgod… the words echoed in his head.

He looked down again, his eyes glued to the meticulously-painted fingernails of Spike’s right hand as they trailed up and down his straining erection. He decided it would be best if he closed his eyes entirely. Maybe it would all go away. Maybe if he tapped his red shoes together and said ‘There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home’.

Not that he was into The Wizard of Oz; Judy Garland held no fascination for him. Nope, not at all. It’s not like he had gay thoughts, or anything…not like he’d imagined innumerable times what it would feel like to have another man’s mouth wrapped around his…

Ohgod,ohgod,ohgod… Xander’s eyes flew open in time to see Spike taking the head of his penis into his mouth. A cool tongue swirled over and over around his tip, then his whole length disappeared into the vampire’s mouth. Xander felt his legs giving out on him, and he had to grab hold of the window sill to steady himself.

Once again he found himself looking through the MWoP, not surprised to find the scene inside was keeping pace with the scene outside. Xander was captivated by the look of ecstasy on Oz’s face as Giles engulfed the younger man’s erection in his mouth. Oz’s impossibly long lashes fluttered restlessly against his cheekbones until the onset of his orgasm shook him to the core. His fingers clenched and unclenched in Giles’ hair as his eyes flew to the ceiling and his mouth opened in a silent howl of pleasure.

Xander’s fingers dug painfully into the weathered wood of the window sill as he felt his body give way to the orgasm-to-end-all-orgasms. He was immensely grateful that the Hellmouth had stolen his voice, because if it hadn’t, his bellows would have awakened the entire city.

As Spike pumped the last drop of semen from his flagging member, Xander felt hot tears well up in his eyes. Why did this always happen to him? Why was he always the last one in on the secret? Why did he want to pull Spike’s smug face into a deep, blow-your-mind snog?

Spike stood and faced Xander, feeling smug and showing it. It had been donkey’s years since he’d gone to church, and he was pleased to see he hadn’t lost his touch. Xander was on the verge of tears, no doubt mentally whipping himself for enjoying the ride. So when Harris grabbed him by the lapels of his duster and kissed him within an inch of his un-life, it came as a real shock. What shocked him even more was the fact that he was giving just as much as he was receiving, and it wasn’t half bad.

When they came to their senses and pushed each other away, there was no denying that what they’d felt was the genuine article. Spike sized-up the Slayer’s minion with new eyes, and for the first time really saw the beauty in those bottomless brown eyes and never-ending lashes. Mutual desire crackled in the air between them. Xander, flushed and loosened-up from the whole experience, made no attempt to hide the lust he was feeling, and he grabbed hold of Spike’s hand, propelling them both in the direction of home.

Oz sank to his knees next to Giles, his breath coming in short, jagged spurts as he recuperated from what was, without question, the most freeing orgasm he’d ever experienced.

Their eyes met, and they shared a conversation that needed no words. Giles’ eyes betrayed his feelings of guilt while at the same time conveying how much he loved and respected him. Oz’s eyes answered with loving gratitude and a wisdom that understood and accepted the fact that this was a relationship that couldn’t happen.

At least not now.

Giles ran his hands through Oz’s spiky red hair and breathed a sigh of regret. Oz could handle it, but he wasn’t so sure he could. He held Oz in a tight embrace, as if squeezing as many memories out of their sole night together as he could. When he finally let him go, he kissed Oz gently on the forehead and slowly got to his feet.

Oz watched the transformation from lover to Watcher occur before his eyes, and he held back the tears he felt coming. As he dressed himself with Giles modestly averting his eyes, he understood the futility of what he’d done. Sure he’d got it out of his system—he’d finally admitted his feeling for Giles, and had them returned—but where did that get them? Oz still had to leave. He still had to find his own way in the world; to conquer the wolf within and embrace the man he’d become. And now he had the added pain of leaving Giles, on top of the pain of leaving Willow.

Giles turned to face Oz, once he was certain the young man was decent again. He could see the anguish Oz was going through, no matter how hard he tried to mask it. Picking up his jacket, Oz approached Giles and held out his hand in friendship. It nearly broke Giles’ heart. He took his hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his chest and placed it over his heart, holding it there so Oz could feel it beating. Then he brought his hand up to Oz’s face and stroked his cheek softly.

This wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. Only it was the beginning of a long journey that would, by necessity, keep them apart for a while.

An infinitesimal smile played across Oz’s face. As he stepped out into the unknown world beyond Giles’ doorstep, he felt the first indications of hope creep into his soul.

END