Email: dragonydreams @ yahoo.com
Characters/Pairing: Oz, Spike (some Oz/Willow)
Word Count: 1122
Summary: Oz runs into someone familiar while running an errand.
Timeline: BtVS Season 4, sometime between 'Harsh Light of Day' and 'Initiative'.
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Joss et al.
Distribution: My site, the usual lists, anyone with previous permission. Anyone else - just ask.
Feedback: Yes please! It makes me happy and keeps me writing.
Betas: angelskuuipo & velvetwhip
Author's Note: This was written for the Full Moon Ficathon at trdmarkstoicism.
Prompt 1: Spike and Oz picking up hair dye (or nail polish).
Prompt 2: hair dye
Morning light filtered through the blinds, silently encouraging the occupants of the room to rise. Oz shifted and buried his face deeper into Willow's neck, trying to block the light from his eyes.
Unfortunately, this caused Willow to giggle, waking them both more than the sunlight ever could. Oz tightened his arm around Willow’s waist, rubbing his stubbled cheek against her neck until Willow pushed him away.
"Stop, that tickles." She rolled over so that she was facing him. "'Morning."
"So it seems," he agreed.
"What were you doing when I woke up?"
"Trying not to," Oz admitted. "Really need to get something to cover those blinds."
Sliding down the bed a bit, Oz rested his head on Willow's belly and tried to pull the covers over his head. This only caused Willow to laugh again, which was hindered a bit by her boyfriend's head resting over her diaphragm. She tossed the covers way from them but Oz didn't move from his comfortable position.
Not really wanting him off of her, Willow began to run her fingers through Oz's hair. He let out a contented sigh.
They lay together in comfortable silence, glad that it was a weekend so they didn't have anywhere to be for a while yet.
"Your roots are showing," Willow quietly said, countless minutes later.
"Mmm-hmm," Oz acknowledged. With a reluctant sigh, he turned so that he was looking up her face. "Been meaning to take care of that for a while now. Maybe after practice tonight I'll get supplies."
Oz blinked a couple of times, pausing just inside the drug store doors; the bright fluorescent lights virtually blinding him after the evening darkness he'd just come from. Shaking his head once to clear the spots, he ambled towards aisle three. Despite knowing where he was going, he glanced at the sign above the aisle: hair color, shampoo, shaving. Check.
He was a bit surprised to see a familiar face as he neared the hair dyes. Not that you would know he was surprised by looking at him. He worked hard to maintain his mask of nonchalance at all times.
"I never thought about it before," he said in lieu of a greeting.
Spike frowned slightly and asked, "Never thought about what?"
"How do you color your hair without a mirror?"
"Don't see how that's any business of yours."
Oz shrugged, turning to the boxes of dye before him. He was thinking of going with something more subtle this time. Willow liked it when his hair was a more natural color and he liked to make Willow happy. That thought almost brought a smile to his face. Almost.
"It's not. Just wonderin'," he agreed.
Roughly grabbing a box of platinum blond color, Spike quietly admitted in a tone that was in conflict with his abrupt action, "Dru used to do it."
Oz thought about that for a second. "Makes sense."
"Of course it makes sense. 'S the truth."
"Not calling you a liar. So, uh, what do you do now?" Oz carefully asked. He contemplated choosing a color that would match Willow's, but decided that would be sort of creepy, dyeing his hair to match his girlfriend's. He grabbed a box that was a little lighter than her color, but should be complementary.
"Just kinda do it by feel. Not like I'm doing highlights or anythin' poufy like that. Just taking care of my roots, 's all."
Spike stuffed the box of hair color in his duster pocket, daring Oz to say something. The smaller man wisely kept his mouth shut and looked the other way.
Oz trailed behind Spike as he weaved his way through the make-up department, snatching a bottle of black nail polish and depositing it in his other pocket.
Oz headed towards the register at the front of the store, not surprised that Spike continued towards the exit. The alarm started to beep when Spike pushed towards the door.
"Hey, you didn't pay for anything," the clerk called out.
Spike flashed his game face, grinning wickedly. "Pay for what?" he asked, showing empty hands.
"N-nothing. It must be acting up," the clerk stammered.
"That's what I thought you said." Spinning on his heel, Spike left.
Looking at the small number of bills in his wallet, Oz sighed and told the clerk, "He pinched a box of hair color, same brand, and a bottle of black nail polish. I'll pay for them."
The clerk stared at Oz with his mouth open. "You'd do that for a stranger?"
"He's not exactly a stranger," Oz admitted.
"No, I meant me. That would have come out of my paycheck. Thank you," the clerk gushed.
"Don't worry about it…Andrew," Oz said, reading the kid's name tag.
"No, really, I barely make enough to pay for my com-- um, books, I need, for school," Andrew babbled.
"It's fine. So how much is it?" Oz pressed. The boy's enthusiasm was starting to annoy him.
"Right. That's $23.85."
Oz paid quickly and left before the kid could thank him again.
A lighter flared to life, lighting a cigarette before extinguishing as he approached the street corner.
"You shouldn't have done that," Spike said after taking a drag off the cigarette.
Oz shrugged. "It comes out of the kid's paycheck otherwise."
"So? You think I care about his paycheck?"
"Of course you don't. You’re a vampire. You've never had to work a day in your unlife. Some of us don't have that luxury."
"Since when have you ever held a job that didn't involve helping the Slayer?"
"Okay, so I've never done retail, but I'm in a band. We sometimes get paid for gigs. More now that we're not in high school."
"Oh yeah, Kangaroos Stole My Dolly or some rot like that."
Oz had to work hard not to laugh. "Dingoes Ate My Baby, actually."
Spike flicked ash from his cigarette. "Whatever."
"Look, if you're not going to try to bite me, I'm gonna go."
Spike grimaced. "Werewolves taste bloody awful."
Oz raised an eyebrow. "Good to know."
He briefly thought about offering to do Spike's hair for him, but quickly shook it off. The way Spike had mentioned Dru told him the act was far more intimate than either of them would be comfortable with. Besides, there was no sense tempting fate by spending more time with the vampire than he absolutely had to.
Keeping a wary eye on the vampire, Oz continued on to where the van was parked a couple of cars down from where they'd been standing. He tossed the shopping bag on the passenger seat and started the van. Willow was waiting for him.