Oh, He's a Winner

Are We Friends?, a slashfic in two parts

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairing: Graham Miller/Daniel Osbourne, Riley Finn/Xander Harris

Disclaimer: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," with its related characters and themes, belongs to Joss Whedon and others, not to me. I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and Bailey Chase. And for Riley Finn, for asking if Graham Miller wanted him naked and unconscious. (Did anyone else notice Graham totally checking out Riley's butt in that scene?)

Wherein Xander plays with Buffy's old toys, Graham donates blood, and no, it's not Riley's turn to clean the bathroom.

Notice: This story is set in Buffy's sophomore year at UC Sunnydale. Without Dawn. Also, yes, I named the demon that on purpose; I'm an M/O convert.

Adam

"Are We Friends?" Part One: Oh, He's a Winner

Oz stood in Giles' kitchen, watching across the bar into the living room. Giles, Buffy, Willow, and Xander, the core Scooby Gang, were busy talking. Not about demons or slaying or anything work-related, just about whatever. At that precise moment, the topic seemed to be the Austin Powers movies.

Angel and Cordelia, once part of the inner circle, were gone now, off fighting the good fight. With Wesley. Faith was in jail. Anya was off wherever newly single former demons went.

Tara was there, sitting beside Willow on the sofa. Willow wasn't into big talkers, apparently. She probably got enough chatter from Buffy and Xander.

And Oz was in the kitchen. Apparently that was the realm to which the former boyfriends were relegated, since Riley was at his side.

Some former love interests, like Angel, Cordelia and Anya, had the sense to go. Some, like Riley and, apparently, Oz himself, stayed. For the friendships? For the slaying?

Oz was glad that he didn't have serious body size issues. Standing beside Riley Finn was enough to make his short look shorter and his thin look thinner. Riley was about as large as Angel. Oz wondered about Buffy's size issues.

"Tea?"

Oz saw a glass of iced tea offered before him. He looked up to Riley's almost-smile and nodded. "Thanks." He accepted the glass.

"You looked lost in thought."

"Just wondering whether it's true. That size matters."

Riley almost frowned. "Oh." Not the expected statement, apparently. "Why?"

"You have very long legs."

Riley's expression cleared in a moment of amused understanding. "I could sit if you'd prefer."

"Standing's fine." He was pleased, though it was unlikely that his tone or face revealed his pleasure. Riley had bypassed the sexual possibilities and gone for what Oz really had meant. He liked that, that Riley saw the curves of a conversation and wasn't locked into immediate reactions.

"You guys bonding okay?" Buffy asked, leaning against the counter.

"Like Krazy Glue," Riley said.

"Great. You up for some patrolling?"

"Sure," Riley said. His face often had an earnest expression to it, whether he were happy or polite or in command. He was used to the Marines, Oz guessed; used to obeying and sacrificing, used to squelching personal interests and complaints for the sake of the common good. Riley might not be comfortable with spending an evening with his ex-girlfriend, but if it lowered the demon population, Riley would do it. Oz didn't respect blind following, but he respected sacrifice. He respected Riley.

"You coming?" Buffy asked Oz.

"Yeah," Oz said. His slaying skills were, to say the least, limited, but at least he could do some look-out sorts of things. Like yelling "Look out!" if a vampire appeared. Not a task to be underestimated.

Actually, since his return to Sunnydale, he'd been doing some training. Some training, mind you, but he was making an effort. He had some nice new muscle tone, and his ever-important grip on his stake was coming along rather well.

So Oz's life consisted of school, music, and slaying, not in that order. He had the Dingoes and the Scoobies and...that was all, right now. He'd been gone, and now he was back, and Devon had remained more faithful than Willow.

That wasn't fair. That wasn't fair and he knew it. He shouldn't have expected her to wait for him. He'd gone and he'd made no promises to return. She was happy now.

He didn't have anyone. No one to touch. No one to make him smile. No one to give him that warm feeling, either the one in his heart or the one in his groin.

But maybe that was cool. He'd had to get himself together before he could be there for anyone else. Maybe he was together now, and he'd find someone when the time was right. He could deal on his own. No sense searching for someone just because he felt a little empty.

Oz was fine by himself. Aloneness was not a problem for him. But when he'd been with Willow he'd shared something, and he wanted to share something again.

Giles, Buffy, Willow, and Tara were going slaying together that night, which left Oz with Riley and Xander. Their trio was not overly confident. Apparently Riley under the Initiative and Riley these days did not pack the same punch. Oz was pretty much amateur night when it came to slaying, and Xander's Scooby strength was not necessarily in the actual slaying area. Still, they set out together.

"So," Xander said. "Three jilted lovers. They should write songs for us. Do you write songs?"

"Lyrics are more Devon's area," Oz said. He decided that Xander's comment hadn't hurt. More the lingering soreness kind of ache than the stab-hard-and-twist-the-knife kind of pain. That was a good sign.

"Devon should write a song about us," Xander said. "Three jilted lovers. Kilted lovers. Quilted lovers."

"Do we have to talk about this?" Riley asked.

"Guilted lovers? Hilted. Lilted. Tilted. Stilted."

"I like kilted," Oz said. He was feeling verbose, now that he'd gotten a good sign.

"We're not Scottish," Xander said. "I know three Brits and an Irish guy, but no Scottish guys. Are the three of us the only American guys?"

"Doyle was Irish," Oz said.

"Who's Doyle?" Riley asked.

"The Powers That Be sent him to Angel. He got visions," Xander said. "Then he died, and now Cordelia gets visions."

"I guess we should feel lucky," Riley said, not sounding as though he felt lucky. "There have been very few casualties."

"Casualties," Xander repeated.

"Sorry," Riley said. He sounded sorry.

"Casualties. You never met Doyle, but Forrest was-"

"Forrest was one of the closest friends I've ever had," Riley said sharply. "Don't - - I didn't mean it like that." He deflated again. "I'm sorry." They walked in silence. "Doyle and Forrest are the only ones?"

"Jesse," Oz said.

"You know about Jesse?" Xander asked.

"Willow told me."

"Nobody ever talks about him," Xander said.

"Doesn't mean nobody's thinking about him," Oz said.

"I'd like to hear about him," Riley said.

Two hours later, Xander had talked about Jesse and Wesley and Cordelia; Riley had killed three vampires in between Xander's stories of Scooby history. Xander didn't talk about what were bound to be sore spots for Riley: Angel and Faith. But Cordelia always made for interesting conversation fodder. Then Xander remembered Amy, which started a whole new storyline.

When the trio of jilted, non-quilted lovers returned to Giles' house, the others were just leaving. Willow looked pleased that the three of them were getting along together, and Oz returned her tiny, hopeful smile. It didn't even hurt.

The following afternoon found Oz in the back room of Giles' new shop, trying to beat up a punching bag. The punching bag was unimpressed. Oz wondered why Riley was even bothering to hold it for him. Probably sensing his dissatisfaction, Riley switched over to holding up pads for him. He forgot what they were called, which annoyed him and made him hit them harder. Just as Riley was beginning to look pleased with his performance, the door opened. Oz stopped; Riley turned.

Jaw. Cheekbones. Eyes. Hair. Shoulders. Chest.

Oz felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach.

He remembered to inhale.

"Hey, Graham," Riley said, just a little defensive, a little wary.

"Hey." Blue eyes glancing at him, nervous, suspicious. "Mr. Giles said you were back here."

"You need something?"

"I can't just come see you? Hang out, talk?"

"When's the last time we spent time together just for the sake of spending time together?"

"Can we talk-"

"He's not going to bite you," Riley snapped.

Oz realized that Riley was talking about him. And any friend of Riley had to be from the Initiative. Which explained the suspicious looks. Riley's friend - - Graham, Graham, Graham - - knew what Oz was.

"I didn't mean that," Graham said. "I just want to talk to you."

"Okay. We can talk outside. Oz, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

Oz watched them go. Broad, strong shoulders tapering down a tight back to the sweetest round ass. Ooh.

He hadn't gotten hard over a guy since twelfth grade when he'd seen Devon having sex. He didn't remember the girl's face, name, or hair color, but he remembered every inch of Devon, every second of Devon. Even then, well, it had been Devon. It wasn't like that was going anywhere; a best friend was a best friend, and he wouldn't dare to tangle with that force. And that had been a gorgeous young man naked in the throes of passion. This was just a mistrustful soldier boy, fully clothed, dispassionate.

Usually Oz became intrigued by personality. He'd gone through a phase of being interested solely on the basis of appearance, which was a good way to waste time and energy. Willow was a beautiful person, but he hadn't been interested in her for her body. Not first, anyway. If Oz's mind wasn't engaged, his desire couldn't be, either. So why was he having an intense physical reaction to someone he didn't know?

He was standing behind the vault, wondering how many bones he'd break if he tried to jump it, when Riley returned.

"Sorry if that was awkward," Riley said.

"Awkward," Oz repeated.

"I know you can't be too fond of Graham. But he's going through the same thing I did. I hope. Sometimes I wish he were more expressive. And you're just staring at me."

"Why am I not too fond of him?"

"You do remember being - - you don't. I forgot. Stupid. You don't remember what happened."

"He was there?"

"Yeah."

Fuck. "Fuck."

"I know you might not believe this, but he's a good person."

Fuck.

"He's trying to get out. Out of the Initiative - - which doesn't exist anymore, not that it existed in the first place, of course. There were serious problems, obvious, serious problems. Not that that's a big shock to you. I could keep babbling at you all day as long as you just stand there."

"He's getting out?"

"Trying. It's hard to admit you were wrong. That what you lived for, fought for, killed for, would have died for, was wrong and twisted. We went into it thinking that we were on the side of goodness and rightness, and suddenly we find out that maybe we were on the other side without even knowing it. I learned to find another way, but Graham's taking a little longer. And it's not like they'll just let him go. I know they haven't even really let me go."

Graham had been there. Graham had...

When the Initiative had taken him, Oz had been a wolf. Then he'd been drugged and tortured. He hadn't really been himself. He understood, later, that his incarceration had been the backdrop for Riley's final moment of breaking from the Initiative, but that was only because he'd been told of it later. He didn't remember any of it himself.

Graham had been there. Captured him, caged him, experimented on him, locked him up, given him the scare of his life. He was glad that he didn't remember that day clearly. He wished that he'd never seen Riley's beautiful friend at all.

Two days later, the jilted trio was out patrolling again.

"I need somewhere to live," Xander said.

"A new place?" Riley asked.

"You don't have to spare my feelings," Xander said. "I live in my parents' basement. And not even in an okay way. In a pathetic loser way. In a way that leaves me with no pride. Hence the whole needing somewhere to live theme."

"I need a new place, too. I've been trying to find a good apartment. With Graham," Riley added, and Oz knew that Riley was looking at him.

"He's ex-Initiative boy now?" Xander asked.

"Yeah. We figure that if we live together, they can save bombs by killing two traitors at once."

"Good. Save my tax dollars for what's really important."

"We're trying to find a cheap place. Not to mention he needs a job. And all of the people we would have used for references are..."

"Dead, missing, or trying to kill you?"

"Yeah."

"Use Giles. And Buffy's mom. And if you find a cheap place somewhere, let me know so I can steal it from you."

"Where are you living?" Riley asked Oz. "I can't believe I don't even know."

"Devon's sofa," Oz said. "When he's not using it."

"I'm still the most pathetic, though," Xander said.

"Congratulations," Riley said. "No contest."

Two days after that night, when Riley came to Giles' he said to Xander, "Are you still looking for a place?"

"Desperately. Not that I need one, since it's not like I have a girlfriend to impress. But someday..." Xander crossed the fingers of both hands.

"Would your future, potential girlfriend mind if you had roommates?"

"What's going on?" Buffy asked.

"Graham and I found a great apartment. It's huge. Cheap, but huge. We love it, but there's no way we can afford it by ourselves."

"That sounds great, Xan," Buffy said.

"'Cause my potential girlfriend's really going to want to stick with me when I take her home to the two of them," Xander said.

"It's cheap," Riley said. "It's big and beautiful."

"Size does matter," Buffy reminded Xander.

"Oz says it doesn't," Riley said. Oz decided not to be disturbed that Buffy and Xander glanced at his crotch. Riley smiled at him, good-natured. "At least come and look at the place," Riley said. "Oz, why don't you come, too? There's room for four, and it'll be cheap if we split it."

"You want Oz to live with Initiative guys?" Buffy said. "I know you aren't anymore, but Graham's one of-"

"Graham's out of that, now."

"You don't change overnight."

"I've changed."

"You were different from the start."

"I wasn't. You have no idea-"

"So," Xander said. "Why don't we go check out this nice new apartment? Come on, Oz, we can stop by on our way to dust vampires. Come on, Riley. Since you're the apartment guy, and you're pretty much the dusting guy, too."

The apartment was nice. Very very nice. It was large, with high ceilings and an open, airy feeling. The main room was the living room, with the kitchen and two small bedrooms to the left, and two larger bedrooms and a big bathroom to the right. They were on the third floor, with the washer and dryer just down the hall.

"This place has to be so incredibly expensive," Xander said.

"If we divide it between the four of us, it's only two fifty a month," Riley said.

Xander stared at Riley. "You're kidding. That's not possible."

"You like it?" Riley asked.

"Sign me up," Xander said. "Quick, before somebody else hears about this place."

"What about you, Oz?"

"I'll take that one," Oz said, gesturing to the second of the small rooms.

"Let's go track down our landlord," Riley suggested with a smile.

Oz moved in first. He and Devon made two trips with his van and got him settled into his room. Then he went to help Willow and Tara move Xander's belongings.

When they got in with Xander's first load, Oz felt his heartbeat falter a little. Graham was there. He could see the muscles in Graham's bared forearms.

"Hey," Graham said to them.

"Hey," Xander said. "We might as well do the official greeting. Willow, Tara, Oz, Xander, Graham."

"Graham what?" Willow asked.

"Miller," Graham said.

"Oz already took the room back there," Xander said. "So who gets the big rooms?"

"Riley and I," Graham said.

"What about Riley and I?" Xander asked.

"Why Riley?" Willow asked.

"Why Riley?" Xander agreed.

"I'm bigger than you are," Riley said, coming in from the hallway with a set of boxes.

"So should we flip for the other room?" Xander asked Graham.

"Why do you get one of the good rooms just because you're bigger?" Willow asked Riley.

Graham grinned at Xander. "I can kick your ass."

"We could flip for it," Xander suggested again, not willing to admit that Graham was right but not wanting to argue the point since he'd only lose.

With one booted foot, Graham pushed aside a crate. Then he executed a quick, one-handed backflip. "Your turn."

Xander turned and went to the room before Oz's.

"Wow," Willow said. "Can all Marines do that?"

"Graham's special," Riley said.

"I'm glad you're on our side now," Willow said to Graham. "Not that you are. Or not that you weren't before. I mean... We were on the same side, we just didn't... And now... I think that Xander needs this box." She left quickly, followed by Tara. Graham carried a box to his room.

Riley said to Oz, "He knows that you don't remember what happened. Maybe I shouldn't have told him, it's not my place. I just don't want any misunderstandings."

Oz wondered how Riley had convinced Graham to live with a werewolf.

The first day was unpacking, patrolling, and sleep. Then Oz was busy with classes and the Dingoes, not to mention working out and trying to slay. The band was so cool about his disappearance, plus his extracurricular activities (patrolling, saving the world, being a werewolf) that he tried to stay as committed as he could the rest of the time. Therefore, he didn't have much free time left just to hang around the apartment. And Graham's two new jobs - - teaching classes at a gym and working for the university on campus security - - kept Graham busy during Oz's off hours, so they didn't see each other often.

Although once they saw an awful lot of each other.

Or Oz saw a lot of Graham.

Because there was one bathroom for the four of them, they had to work around each other's schedules. Oz was on his way out for the usual Friday pre-performance Dingoes practice, and Graham had just come in from evening classes at the gym. Usually Graham showered at the gym, but apparently some days Graham just wanted to get out of there. Graham was coming from the shower as Oz was coming through the living room, and Oz got a heart-stopping view of damp spiky hair and glistening broad shoulders and strong naked pecs and an honest-to-god six-pack and rock-solid calves and hell he'd never get arms like that - - and then Graham was behind a closed bedroom door just as Oz's brain was settling on the line of dark hairs tracing below Graham's navel, and the drool-inducing possibilities of the small of Graham's back. And the sight of that towel wrapped tightly over that beautiful taut round ass...so close and yet so far...

Then it was that time of the month again. The day before the full moon.

Oz had his change pretty much under control now. Still, there was always going to be a risk. Willow had planned a three-night Oz party, where the Slayerettes would sit in the other back room of Giles' shop, the one with the cage and manacles, and talk, eat, keep a tranquilizer gun handy, that sort of thing.

The nights went well. Oz sat and hung out, and various friends hung out with him, and he didn't change. The second night was a little harder, since the moon was at its fullest and he could feel its pull. He appreciated everyone's concern and time. He got to know Tara a little better, and he appreciated that, too. No one needed his seal of approval, but he could see that Tara's love for Willow ran deep and strong, and he was glad.

Glad, too, that he'd made it through the hardest part of the month without turning, Oz sat in his room and meditated. He'd felt awfully ruffled lately. Calm was good. Calm. Peace. Acceptance. Ah. Much better. Now he was supposed to read Clarissa for his lit class. No thanks. Maybe he'd do something else first. His nail polish was almost chipped off completely; he could do a little paint job before studying.

The nail polish remover was in the bathroom, and once he'd left his room he was just as content to be out of it, so he sat on the living room sofa to get to work. A little remover, a little cotton ball, all clean and new. Naked-looking. He shook up the bottle of base coat. Nail polish - - and definitely nail polish remover - - were not pleasing to anyone with regular nose power, but were worse for someone with enhanced olfactory senses.

The front door opened.

Speaking of enhanced olfactory senses...and what was pleasing to them... Oz never could decide whether he preferred the smell of fresh-from-the-shower Graham or post-gym, pre-shower sweaty Graham. The first appealed to him for obvious reasons, and the second he liked on a baser level. Maybe a lupine level. Besides the way they smelled, they both looked...good.

"Hey."

Well, they'd used up their conversation quota for the day. Graham moved on, and Oz waited for his base coat to dry.

"Go!"

There was Agent Finn's voice. Not the Riley voice; the official command voice. Oz was curious but patient.

Graham reappeared. He was wearing workout clothes, sneakers and shorts and stuff. The sweatshirt must have disappeared around about Riley's yell, because now Graham was in a sweat-stained tank top. Oz waited. Graham stood by the sofa.

"I don't know any guys who paint their nails. Besides you."

"Spike does. Hostile 17," Oz said. "And Devon when he feels like a slut." He'd said "Hostile 17" just in case Graham wasn't updated on Spike's actual name. And his tone on the slut comment was affectionate.

"I know who Spike is." Someone was upset. Silence. "Devon's your friend. The singer."

"Yeah." Oz uncapped the bottle of polish. Graham sat on the sofa, at the other end. "You don't have to be afraid of me."

"Why not?"

"Well, at the moment, I'm just a short scrawny guy engaged in effeminate behavior. Which could be scary to some people, but you seem centered in your masculinity."

"That's at the moment. What about the other moments, when you're a...werewolf."

"A monster," Oz said, since Graham wouldn't. "I'm working on it."

"There's nothing effeminate about you."

Oz sent him a small smile. "That's good to know."

"Riley said I should go see your band."

"You're welcome."

"Thanks."

"They're playing at the Bronze on Friday," Riley said, coming from his bedroom with an earnest smile of hope. "The crowd's a little young, but the music's worth it. I'm going."

Oz smiled at Riley. "You don't have to try so hard. Not everyone is comfortable living with a werewolf."

"I'm fine," Graham said. "I'll be there. I need a shower." He left the room.

"I want everyone to get along," Riley said.

It was an admirable wish, but not a practical one. Most wishes weren't practical. "Polish?" Oz offered, holding up the bottle.

Riley laughed. "You want me to wear nail polish?"

"It's a possibility."

"No thanks. I don't think that I can pull it off."

"Pull what off?"

Riley turned red at the voice. "Xander."

"Hi, I'm Xander," Xander said, dropping his keys on the ledge by the door. "What are we pulling off?"

"Riley doesn't want to wear nail polish," Oz explained.

"It could be a new look," Xander said. "A whole new look. Because it really wouldn't go with the look you have now."

"I don't need a new look. This look is fine," Riley said.

"It works very well. It's you," Oz said.

"Thank you," Riley said.

"Commando guy doesn't do nail polish?" Xander asked. "Afraid to walk on the wild side?"

"Wearing nail polish is not walking on the wild side. And I'm not afraid."

"Ooh, that was convincing."

"I don't see you wearing any."

"I'm not cool enough. Oz is cool guy. Way cool. Oz has the essence of cool. Non-cool guys can't pull it off. And we're back to pulling."

"Am I cool?"

"If you have to ask, you're not," Xander said.

"Spike's cool?"

"It's a disturbing fact, but yes," Xander said.

"So Oz and Spike are cool. You and I are not. Giles..." The three smiled. "Graham?"

"Graham is cool," Xander said. "He has that inner...thing."

"So he should wear nail polish."

"Riley Finn and the wicked evil grin. You are absolutely right. Graham should wear nail polish. And he'll need a whole new look to go with it," Xander said.

"We're going to the Bronze on Friday."

"Oz, when you're finished with that, would you mind if I borrowed it?"

Oz was sure that Riley and Xander's plan would fail. Still, he hoped that Graham would come to the Bronze. Devon gave him weird looks backstage and finally said, "Oz, man, are you nervous? Oz is nervous. I need to mark my calendar and call the President." Oz was fairly certain that Devon didn't know who the President was.

"How can you tell?" Trevor asked.

"He scratched his chin," Devon said.

"Well, that's proof enough for me."

They went onstage and performed. Oz kept himself from looking over the crowd. He didn't want to see Graham. Or not see Graham. Between sets, he stayed backstage. Finally, their gig ended. They loaded up the equipment and Oz slipped back into the Bronze.

"Oz! The Dingoes were great!" Willow said, finding him by the entrance.

"You were very good," Tara said, and her eyes smiled.

"Thanks," he said, letting his eyes smile back at her.

"Buffy had to go, and we're on our way out, too, but Xander and Riley are here. And they," Willow smiled, "brought Graham." Tara blushed.

"Okay. I'll see you later," Oz said. Willow kept smiling. "Willow?"

She smiled some more. "We're going to go now." Tara was smiling, too. "You should maybe stop by the table. Say hi to Xander and Riley. And Graham." She burst into laughter and hurried out, pulling Tara with her.

Oz smiled. Flared his nostrils. There was the Willow smell, and the Tara smell. He sorted through the scents of strangers and found Graham. Then he saw the table, and went over, and smiled. "Hey."

Xander and Riley grinned. "Hi, Oz," Xander said. "Great show tonight. That was a great show. Don't you think so, Riley?"

"I do," Riley said. "The Dingoes were great. I just love coming to the Bronze. What about you, Graham?"

"I was a United States Marine, boy. Sitting in a teen hangout looking like a male prostitute is not going to humilate me."

"Clench that jaw any tighter and you'll pop something," Xander said.

"You don't look like a prostitute," Riley said. "You look like you'd do it for free."

"I think you look like Spike," Xander said.

"I think you look gay," Riley said.

"You two want to be wearing your blood on the outside?" Graham asked.

Graham was wearing black nail polish, but that was the least of it. He was wearing low black boots, a black T-shirt, and black leather pants. His clothes clung to his form, outlining each muscle. He was sitting up very straight, arms crossed over his chest. Of course that posture only drew attention to his upper body strength.

"You might want to relax," Oz said, taking a seat.

"Oz is the king of relaxation," Xander said. "Tips from the master."

"Master," Riley said. "That's it," he said to Graham. "You look like you belong in an S&M flick."

"Which role?" Xander asked.

"Hey, Xander. Oz."

"Hey," Oz said.

"Larry." Xander's eyes widened; he grinned, noticing the way Larry's gaze kept flickering towards someone in particular.

"Larry. Hey, Larry."

"I'm guessing you're Larry," Riley said. "I'm Riley Finn."

"This is Graham," Xander said, smiling broadly. "Graham, this is Larry. Graham's a friend of mine. He used to be in the Marines."

"Really," Larry said.

"Hey, sorry to break it up, but I have to get going. All the equipment's in my van. Anybody want a ride?" Oz asked.

"Sure, thanks," Graham said. "I have to be at work early in the morning."

"Graham's an aerobics instructor," Xander told Larry.

"I teach kick-boxing and self-defense," Graham said, leaning across the table toward Xander. When his butt lifted from the seat, Larry's eyes found a new target. "Want me to show you my moves, Harris?"

"Is it wrong that I want to say yes?" Xander asked. "Did I say that out loud?"

"No," Oz said.

"Good," Xander said.

Graham stood. "I will be taking my revenge. Wait for it."

"It was nice to meet you," Larry said.

"I am not gay and I am not interested," Graham said. "I am never showing my face in this place again."

"Don't worry about it," Xander said. "Nobody's looking at your face."

Oz started to leave, and Graham came with him. Plenty of people would have felt completely at ease in Graham's attire, but it wasn't typical Grahamwear, so Oz could see how Graham would be unhappy. In Graham's mind, at least, Graham's body was for work, not display.

Oz dropped off the equipment with Graham's help and returned to the apartment. A few minutes later, he went to Graham's bedroom. The door was open; Graham was sitting on the foot of the bed, still dressed, massaging his naked feet.

"Hey," Oz said from the doorway.

"Hey."

"Nail polish remover. Cotton balls."

"Thanks." Graham stood, accepted them. "You guys were good tonight."

"Thanks."

"Is Xander gay?"

"The official word is that he's straight. You didn't like the boots?"

"Too narrow. So how does this stuff work?"

Oz smiled. "Let me show you. You have to be careful or it'll eat through everything it touches."

"Does the government know about this stuff?"

"The men running the Pentagon are too busy to pay attention to nail polish remover. See how sexism and gender roles are ruining our military possibilities? We could take over the world if men would just bother to - - what?"

"You're talking."

"Is this quiet time?"

"You're funny, too." Graham seemed surprised yet pleased.

"Behold the amazing Oz." He sat on the bed, pulling a cottonball from the bag, uncapping the bottle. He set the bottle on the nightstand as Graham sat before him on the bed, then took Graham's hand in his and got to work. With a professional ease from long practice, Oz cleaned Graham's fingernails.

"Thank you. Thank god."

Oz recapped the bottle and stood, tossing cottonballs in the trash can. "You're welcome."

"You did have no part in this, right?"

"Xander did borrow my nail polish. But he didn't tell me what it was for."

"So I only have to kill two roommates, not three."

"How's everyone's favorite ex-Marine aerobics instructor bottom boy?"

Graham closed the door and locked it. "Xander Harris is a dead man."

Oz sat on the bed again.

"Oh Graham!" Xander called. "Larry loved meeting you. He wants to get to know you better!"

"Where's Oz?" Riley's voice asked.

"His light's on."

"He's not in there."

"Bathroom."

"Not in there."

"He's not that short, Riley. We can't have lost him. Graham, are you in there?"

"Maybe Oz is in there."

"Why would..." Xander chuckled.

"I didn't mean it like that. Xander! Xander!"

Graham sat beside Oz on the bed. "Definitely going to kill him." He laid down, on his back, hands behind his head. "Riley said you're working on your fighting skills."

"They come in handy around here."

"Yeah. Love Sunnydale. People are grateful when the shadowy figure in the alley is just a mugger with a gun. I know you're working on your own regimen, but you're welcome to come to my self-defense classes. Or even the kick-boxing. You can pick your own level, beginner, intermediate, advanced."

"I'm pretty much the novice," Oz said. "Public humiliation isn't my thing, though."

Graham plucked at his tight black T-shirt. "Happens to the best of us. You can come just to observe if you want before you commit."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's good. I'll be running classes all day. Do you mind if I change?"

"It's your room." He kept his eyes carefully averted through extreme self-will. He'd thought that keeping himself from turning under a full moon was difficult, but that had nothing on not watching Graham Miller get naked mere feet from his side.

Then Graham was back, sitting on the bed in shorts and a T-shirt. "Much better."

Graham had legs. Naked legs. Lots of muscle, tight skin, dark hairs. Better, well, that was debatable. Just as drool-inducing, definitely.

Knock at the door. "Graham?"

"Riley?"

"Do you know where Oz is?"

"Vampires got him on the way home. Didn't you see the note I left on the fridge?"

Oz knew that that shouldn't be funny, but he found it hysterical anyway. Graham flashed him a smile and his giggling fit worsened.

"Don't make me break down this door, Miller."

"Don't make me kick your ass, Finn."

"You stand no chance."

"Try me."

"Oh, oh, macho posturing, can I play too?" Xander's voice asked.

"I'm voting him off the island first," Graham said.

"I heard that," Xander said.

"You were supposed to," Graham called.

"Riley, can you kick his ass?" Xander asked.

"In a heartbeat," Riley said.

"Good. Go ahead."

Oz collected his polish remover and cotton balls and left the bed, unlocking and opening the door.

"There you are," Xander said.

Oz nodded and went to his room.

Monday afternoon, Oz went to the Graham's gym instead of Giles' shop. When he went to the front desk, expecting to have to sign in or even join, he was given a visitors' pass in Graham's name. That was pretty cool. He changed into his T-shirt and sweatpants in the locker room and went to find Graham. He checked the direction board and found that Graham's classes seemed to be right down this hallway, around this corner, and...woah.

He hoped that this mirror were one-way, so no one could see him drooling.

Graham Miller. Spandex. Had to be seen to be believed.

All right, so Graham had on a blue tank top and red shorts over the black spandex shorts. Still impressive.

Graham was standing on one foot, perfectly balanced, the other foot up, leg extended save for the graceful bend of knee. His muscles were bared in their glory, from shoulder to wrist, from mid-thigh to ankle. He was beautiful. Masculine.

Then he saw Oz. He gave the briefest nod, resumed both feet, and spoke to his class. A woman in the front row came forward as Graham started music on a boom box, and the woman started the first exercise as Graham came toward Oz.

Oz came to the doorway. "Hey."

"Hey. You wanna come in and watch? You wanna try it?"

"Watching's good."

"You'd better sit in the back. If you're in the front they'll get self-conscious." The implication was that Graham wouldn't be self-conscious. Oz decided not to ask about it. Instead, he came in and sat on the floor in the back. Graham took over in front again, and Oz was treated to half an hour of advanced kick-boxing. After that came an hour of intermediate self-defense. Then there was beginner kick-boxing and Graham was finished for the day. They returned to the locker room. Oz, who hadn't actually done anything, changed into his street clothes while Graham took a quick shower. He kept his eyes to himself while Graham dressed. Kept his hands to himself, too.

Oz wasn't sure how Graham managed to teach all of those classes. They weren't every day, but it seemed like such a long day. Maybe it was an after-effect of whatever the Initiative had done to its soldiers. Maybe it was just Marine training. Maybe it was just Graham.

"You want to sign up for something?" Graham asked, clean and dressed, spiky hair damp and dark.

"Self-defense looks good."

"You probably qualify for intermediate, but I'd have to give you the beginner test to make sure. Legalities." Oz put on his agreement face. "If you want to start now, the next class is Mondays and Thursdays. Tomorrow or Wednesday I could give you the beginner test and you could start Thursday." Oz put on his other agreement face. "You can join the gym on our way out. They'll waive the fee - - I'm allowed to recommend three people for free. Then once you pass the beginner self-defense test, there's some paperwork and you're good to go."

Good to go.

Oz spent Tuesday practicing with Riley for the self-defense test. He wanted to pass. He didn't want to look like a total pansy in front of Graham. Why did his self-image depend on what Graham thought of him? Oz was Oz, and he knew himself. Graham's opinion shouldn't matter - - or it shouldn't matter as much as it did.

He kicked Riley's butt. Riley seemed happier than he did about it. Someone was proud of him. See, he could have sunny feelings after Willow. And maybe tomorrow he'd get some more.

Wednesday, he faced Graham. This time it wasn't a friend in Giles' back room; this was professional, and they were in serious protective gear, and no punches were to be pulled. An aerobics instructor who helped with Graham's self-defense classes was in the room with them to make sure they were safe.

Oz kicked Graham's butt.

He pulled off his helmet, dropped to his knees. "You okay?"

"Wow. Help me up." He helped Graham to stand, and they shed their protective gear. "I love this job. Seeing people come in off the street and learn to defend themselves. Anybody can do it."

"Even short skinny guys."

Graham smiled. "I wasn't going to say it. You did great, though. Knocked me on my ass. A few of your moves aren't exactly regulation for this course, but a lot of that was straight from the standard text."

"Giles teaches the classics with some innovative twists."

"I figured. You want to start tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Great."

Oz liked Graham's self-defense class. Graham was a good teacher, taking the time to explain everything thoroughly, making sure that every last student could master each technique.

A lot of the self-defense was up close and personal. This was Sunnydale, where the attackers, rapists and vampires alike, were in close contact with their victims. Graham liked to have demonstrations of the techniques, so he needed a partner. Graham wanted a male volunteer, since the females were uncomfortable having the situations intimately played out on them, and the aerobics instructor was busy a lot of the time. Since Graham knew Oz, Oz became the official volunteer.

Which meant that Oz got to spend snatches of time lying on his back underneath Graham's body, or pinned to a wall by Graham's weight, or being held with Graham's heat and strength all along his back. He knew that Graham also liked to use him for the demonstrations because he was small and it gave the women confidence that not only big tough males could kick some bad guy butt. But Oz knew that he wasn't large and strapping, and he didn't care.

One night, the jilted trio was out on the slaying prowl once more. They seemed to have become an official subset of the Scoobies, and Buffy often sent them out together. That night they'd been told to check the university campus, so they did.

"You didn't clean the bathroom."

"That's right, I didn't."

"You were supposed to."

"I'm next week. This week is Graham's turn."

"Graham did it last week."

"He did not."

"Then who did?"

"You did."

"I...I did. Oh. Never mind."

"Apology accepted."

"I didn't apologize."

"You should have."

"For what?"

"Accusing me of shirking my duties."

"Oh, now you're going to get all...like that."

"Like what?"

"Like that!"

"Hold on." Riley whirled around and slammed a stake home into a vampire's chest. Xander ducked and spun; Oz automatically did a block-block-parry. Riley dusted a second and Oz shocked himself by staking his. He was so shocked that he didn't realize that the fourth was behind him.

Xander shouted, and Oz felt someone grab him from behind. Startled, he dropped his stake. He had the presence of mind to ram his elbow up and back, then down and back. Suddenly, the vampire turned to dust and he fell on the ground.

"Where'd you come from?" Xander asked.

"I work here," Graham's voice said. "Oz, you okay?"

"Fine, thanks." He took Riley's hand and got to his feet, then dusted himself off a bit. He didn't like Graham's campus security uniform. It didn't have Graham's understated masculine edge; it was just so...uniformy. "Thanks," he said again, meeting Graham's eyes.

Graham nodded. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"Working," Riley said.

"It's not your job."

"We're volunteers," Riley said.

"So does the stake come with your official equipment?" Xander asked. "Do they hand out a little badge and flashlight and stake?"

"No," Graham said.

"Graham, I do work here, and Oz is a student," Riley said. "This is a public university campus."

"Then I'll escort you around campus until you leave," Graham said.

"Can I carry your flashlight?" Xander asked. "You do have one, don't you?"

"We don't want to attract attention to ourselves," Graham said.

"Why not? The more attention we attract, the more bad things come to attack us, the more bad things we can kill," Xander said.

"Xander attracts the attention of bad things all on his own, anyway," Riley said.

"I...well, I do, but not on purpose," Xander said.

Graham flicked on his flashlight and found Oz's stake in the grass. Oz picked it up, and Graham handed the flashlight to Xander. "Let's go."

The four of them walked around the campus some more. Riley and Xander carried most of the conversation; Riley and Graham did most of the slaying.

Graham's next class concentrated on being grabbed from the back.

Oz was up late one night, sitting in the living room in a quiet pool of light, reading about the history of Britain. Xander and Riley had come back from slaying and gone straight to bed. Graham was in the bathroom brushing his teeth.

Graham came out from the bathroom. Oz gave him a surreptitious under-the-lashes glance: boxers, T-shirt. Nice. Instead of going to his room, Graham went back to Xander's room. Oz waited for this odd behavior to explain itself. Graham emerged momentarily, carrying Xander.

Xander was dead asleep. Xander could snore through anything. Even, apparently, being carried through the living room. Through the living room and into Riley's room.

Graham left Riley's room, closed the door, and stuck something in the lock.

Graham's revenge. Oz approved.

In the morning, there were fifteen minutes of pounding and screaming, followed by ten minutes of periodic cursing and threatening, followed by five minutes of silence, followed by an hour of...well, that was between Xander and Riley. At any rate, Graham unlocked the door but they didn't leave the room for a while.

Riley wanted Graham to join the Scoobies, help the Slayer. Graham wanted Riley to back off or loose a few teeth. There were some loud arguments, angry cold silences, and muted eruptions of violence before Graham agreed to come to Giles' house. The four of them went over together one night when Graham wasn't working.

They rang the doorbell and entered. Giles met them at the front door. "Graham."

"Mr. Giles."

"Graham."

"Buffy."

"You've met Willow and Tara?" Giles said.

"Hi."

"Hi," Willow said, echoed quietly by Tara. Willow's face was hopeful. She smiled at Oz. He wondered if she knew.

Xander pushed everyone in and closed the door. "Can we keep him?"

"That's up to Graham," Giles said.

"I don't get it. It's supposed to be the Slayer and her Watcher. Why do you need all of these other people?" Graham asked.

"You're determined to make a bad impression, aren't you?" Riley asked.

"Oh, he's a winner," Buffy said. "Bad impression made."

"Graham is combat-trained. He knows how to fight demons. We can always use that help," Riley said.

"It's like we have the nice educated research people, and the fighting force," Xander said.

"And where do you fall into those categories?" Graham asked.

"I have my own category," Xander said.

"You can be in my category," Oz invited.

"Which category is that?" Xander asked.

"The one where we're useful but label-free."

"The cool category," Xander said. "I'm in the cool category."

"Classic case of guilt by association," Giles said. "Yes, sorry," he said, when Riley looked at him a little too hard. "Graham, are you at all interested in helping us?"

"Yes," Riley answered for him. "Graham, this is what we've been gearing up for. Fighting actual evil. We don't have all of the cool technology, but the moral issues are a lot clearer."

"It's a lot more dangerous," Buffy said.

"We get doughnuts sometimes," Willow said.

"Sometimes there's assigned reading, but we try to leave that for the brain people," Xander said.

"You won't have the same strength and endurance and healing power from when you were with the Initiative," Buffy said.

"I'm not going to say anything dirty," Xander said.

"Thanks," Riley said.

"Sometimes there are cream-filled doughnuts," Willow said.

"What dirty thing are you not saying?" Buffy asked.

"You know, about Riley's stamina," Xander said.

"Sometimes there are jelly-filled," Willow said.

"What would you know about Riley's stamina?" Buffy asked.

"I'm afraid that you're used to a bit more structure than...this," Giles told Graham. "I must warn you that they're like this all of the time."

"You didn't tell Buffy?" Willow asked Xander.

"Tell Buffy what?" Buffy asked.

"You didn't tell Buffy?" Riley asked Xander.

"I thought that you were going to tell her," Xander told Riley.

"She's your best friend," Riley said.

"She's your ex-girlfriend."

"You've known her longer."

"She can kick my ass faster."

"Tell Buffy what?" Buffy repeated. "You know?" she asked Willow.

"For heaven's sake, I know," Giles said.

"Giles knows and I don't know?" Buffy asked. "Oz, do you know?"

"Even Graham knows," Willow said. "I can't believe that no one told you."

"Told me what?!"

"Now, Buffy," Xander said, "remember that you dumped him. You got rid of him. I know you don't like other people playing with your toys, but you were finished with this one."

"Thanks," Riley said.

"I've been living with Riley, and doing slayer stuff with Riley, and spending a lot of time with him. And we sort of...it's Graham's fault."

"What?" Willow asked.

"How?" Giles asked.

"What's Graham's fault?" Buffy demanded.

"He put us in bed together and locked the door," Xander said. "So we're lovers or boyfriends or whatever, but it's his fault, he made us."

"You're having sex with Riley?" Buffy's eyes were going to pop out of her face.

"Yeah, but it's Graham's fault."

"Xander, I'm going to kill you. But you've been a good friend, so I'll make it quick and painless."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Xander said.

"You're not killing anyone," Giles said.

"I'm the Slayer. That's my job," Buffy said.

"You're the Vampire Slayer."

"Giles, when your close friend starts dating your recent ex, that's higher on the evil scale than sucking blood."

"You broke up with Riley. That left him - - what am I saying? You all go out and kill demons, not each other."

"But-"

"Go. As you said, it is your job."

"It's not like I'm being paid for it or anything," she grumbled.

"Willow and Tara, why don't you go with Riley and Xander. Buffy, take Oz and Graham with you."

"Sure, stick the gays and lesbians together," Xander said. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes," Willow said.

"I said that I'm gay. Out loud. Where people can hear me."

"Xander, it's okay. We know you're gay. And we know you're seeing Riley."

"I don't know if seeing is the right word," Riley said.

"Seeing naked," Xander suggested. "I really have to leave now."

"That might be for the best," Giles agreed.

Oz walked with Buffy and Graham. The two of them were having grim time, complete with grim faces and grim silences. He was surprised that anyone would have the nerve to attack them. No one had claimed that vampires were smart, however. When the attack came, Oz watched in surprise as Buffy and Graham worked beautifully. Buffy was, as always, power and grace in one. Graham wasn't as polished, sheerly for lack of Buffy's intense experience. When they were attacked again later, Oz decided that they had to keep Graham.

Buffy was of the same opinion, and she told everyone so when they returned to Giles's.

"Can't back out now," Riley told Graham.

"With enough experience, we could set up three teams," Giles said. "For simple patrols, that would cover much more ground."

"I'm guessing that the team captains are Buffy, Riley, and Graham," Xander said.

"I'm guessing that, too," Buffy said.

"Can I be on Riley's team?" Xander asked.

"Are you guys serious?" Buffy asked. "Is this a real thing?"

"I think that Xander deserves a real thing," Willow said. "It's about time he had one."

Buffy nodded slowly. "You're right." She turned to Riley and stabbed a finger in his chest. "You hurt him and I'll have someone turn you just so I can stake you, got it?"

"Got it," Riley said. "Got it."

"Good." She turned to Graham next. "Welcome aboard."

matthew@matthewtime.com
"Are We Friends?" Part Two: That Wasn't in the Brochure, Was It?
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