Summary: Basic W/O fluff. Willow thinks about the life that she and Oz have
built together.
Spoilers: Minor through the fourth season of Buffy.
Disclaimer: Joss.
Rating: PG13
This is for Karen and Superpixie, because I promised. I'm an evil tease;
sorry I took so long. ;)

* * * * * * *

I only call him Oz when we're alone now. It's been a long time since anyone
has called him anything but Daniel or Dan. But sometimes, when I'm lying in
his arms, wrapped in the cool quiet of night, tangled in the whisper of
intimacy, I murmur his old nickname. Because I have to.

Because that's who I fell in love with.

He smiles when I do and I'm grateful that we have that small word between us.
Love drew us to each other and children have bound our lives together
forever, but that word-- that almost inconsequential secret-- is something
that only we share, something that no one but us knows about.

I was never really sure why he started going by his real name... I always
suspected that it had something to do with the pain of Devon's death, as Oz
once told me that Devon was the first to ever call him that. But he doesn't
talk about it, and I don't push to hear. Whatever emotion or instinct or
thought that made him make that decision isn't going to be questioned by me.

We share other secrets, too, of course. We share the secrets of our wild and
dangerous youth, we share the knowledge of what can really happen in the
dark. Sometimes we talk about these things, our voices soft and reverent as
we talk about the friends that we lost too young, but those memories don't
have the same significance in our relationship his name does. It's odd,
because those memories are the precise thing that brought us together again
and again.

But his name...

I don't think of him as Daniel. When I speak it, in front of our children or
friends, it sticks in my throat for a moment before I can get it past my
lips. Even after seven years of marriage. And I have the quiet yearning to
set everything right, to let everyone know who he really is. I want people
to see the part of him that I do, to see that warm half-smile, to know how
tender he can be, how thoughtful.

People think that you know someone after days or months or even years. But
there are very few people in this world who know Oz as I do. I feel as
though I'm split in two-- one half of me cherishes that fact, and the other
despises it. I want to share his heart with everyone around and I want to
keep it all to myself.

So while I long to reveal the name he went by for so many years to others, I
never do. It's not simply respect for him that keeps my wishes at bay,
though, although respect has always been a huge part of our relationship.
It's the fact that if I did tell someone, or utter his name in anyone's
presence, those rare moments where the world narrows down to just him and me
would disappear forever.

And I wouldn't risk that for anything.
* * * * * *

I often wonder what would have happened if our friends hadn't died eight
years ago. I think of them like stars, when I allow myself to think of them
at all. Stars, shooting through the sky, too beautiful and brilliant to last
as long as people want them to. Would we still be fighting the forces of
darkness? I still do the occasional spell, though usually only to ward off
evil from our home and lives. Would we still be as close as we all had been
before we met?

I like to think so. I like to imagine that Angel and Buffy would have found
some way to be together, and that Angel hadn't left for places unknown after
Buffy's death. I like to think that Xander would be living next door or
across the street, and that his life would be as rich and wonderful as he
never knew it could be, even though everyone around him did. I like to think
that Giles would have walked me down the aisle with a fond smile on his face
and maybe a few tears in his eyes, and then acted as grandfather to Tyler and
James, as he acted like a father to me. I like to think all of these things
happening in their lives and ours.

When it doesn't hurt too much to think of them.

And when we're alone and my eyes are steady on the wall and distant from our
home, Oz knows that I'm thinking about all of this, and he lays his hand over
mine, rubbing it gently, waiting for me to turn to him. When I do, our eyes
pass the knowledge that is too rarely spoken of, the knowledge of our
friends, the memory. He and I knew them as no one else in the world did, so
it's a comfort that he's a part of my life now-- one of the biggest parts,
other than my children-- and can help carry the burden of the pain, can laugh
softly with me at things long since over, can hold me when I cry.

I still cry over them, sometimes.

And when we're alone, Oz puts his arms around me and holds me tight, as tight
as he knows I need to be held. I'll sob silently, missing the people I knew
with an astonishing intensity and loving my husband even more than that.
Loving him for who he is, for how well he knows me... For all we've been
through.

For the fact that we went through it together.
* * * * * *

I find myself daydreaming about him when he's not around. I guess it's a
good thing, when spouses fantasize about each other. I think about the way
his eyes lock on me when he's getting ready for bed, and the twinkle that
lights up his gaze when he catches me watching. I think of the way he
touches my hair every morning, sliding it through his fingers before we get
up, when he thinks I'm still asleep. I think of the way he tosses James in
the air to make him laugh. I think of the way he talks to Tyler as he wants
to be talked to; five years old going on forty, Tyler is certain he's already
an adult and Oz lets him think so.

I think of the way he laughs. I think of the way he plays his guitar for me
when I'm sick, singing whatever tune that's most recently popped into his
mind. I think of the way he kisses me, slowly; like a promise that he's
going to stay with me forever.

I think of the way he touches me so tenderly that it makes my heart ache when
we're alone. The way his fingers slip down my shoulder, play with my
collarbone, trace the curve of my breast. I think of the way he looks in
that moment of complete silence before we make love, when he's poised over
me, his gaze hot and so full of love that it's beyond comprehension. I think
about how graceful he is in the way he moves and speaks and smiles. I think
of his hands. I think of the way he places them in mine when we're falling
asleep, coiled around each other.

I've always loved his hands.

Calloused and still strangely soft.

Sort of like Oz himself.
* * * * * *

The door opens and I walk out of the kitchen, eager to see my family. James
runs forward, stumbling a little on his third step, and then jumps into my
arms, completely certain that I'll catch him. And I do. I hug him tightly.
"I've missed you, baby!"

"Me too, Mommy. We caught fish. We put 'em back, doe." He smiles proudly
at me before promptly sticking his thumb in his mouth. I'm too pleased to
see them that I don't even reprimand him for it, although Oz and I have been
trying to break him of the habit for two years.

"Wow," I respond, batting my eyes with enough satisfaction so that he'll know
I'm impressed. "You guys must be the best fishermen in the whole world. See
any sharks?" He giggles at my silliness and then squirms, a signal that he
wants down. Gently I lower him to the ground and he darts into the kitchen to
see what I'm cooking.

Tyler comes to me next, hugging me briefly. "Hi, Mommy."

I bend down to hold onto him more firmly for a moment-- I know one day
there'll come a time when I find myself missing his hugs, and I want to make
every one of them last. "Hey, Ty. Did you have a good time?"

He tilts his head thoughtfully, as though he needs a second to consider my
question. Finally he smiles, broadly, and I feel a wave of embarrassing
mother's delight over seeing the gap in the front of his teeth, from where he
lost his first tooth a month ago. "Yeah. It was neat. Dad says that we
might hafta take you next year, though, because he missed you too much."

I pretend to pout. "Didn't you miss me?"

He shakes his head matter-of-factly. "No, 'cause I knew you'd be here when
we came home. But it's okay if you want to come next time."

I laugh, ruffling his hair slightly. "Thanks."

He moves off to join his little brother and I hear Oz clear his throat. I
look up.

He holds out his arms and I move into them so quickly it seems like I'm
flying through the seconds to get into the waiting hug. I reach him and wrap
my arms around his warm body, burying my face in his shoulder, his neck. He
sighs a little as he holds me back just as tightly, and a tingle fills my
stomach when I feel his breath.

I pull back slightly and look him in the eyes. "Good weekend?" I ask,
realizing that I'm absurdly breathless with joy to see my husband.

"Could have been better," he says softly, a smile tugging at the corner of
his mouth. He pauses for a moment and when he speaks next, his voice is
lower, softer. A private voice. "I missed you."

I feel a moan of agreement in my chest but don't release it. "Oh, God, I
missed you too."

"One Halloween as the guy and you're going to call me that forever?" he
teases playfully.

I start to smirk but his mouth covers mine before I can. I don't mind. The
kiss is tender and sweet and firm and filled with eagerness formed out of
time apart. I press my body closer to his as his tongue slips tantalizingly
into my mouth, caressing my own the way he knows drives me crazy. I love
moments like these; crushed against him, melting in his kiss.

A feel a tug on my leg and break-- with no small amount of disappointment--
to look down. James and Tyler stand there with small smiles, exchanging 'our
parents are so humiliating' looks with each other. "Um, yes?" I finally
prompt with a grin.

"When's dinner?" Tyler asks hopefully. "Soon?" I hear the slight pleading
quality and realize that they probably haven't had anything but sandwiches in
two days.

"Yes, soon. Fifteen minutes," I tell them and then turn to Oz. "How hungry
are you?"

He doesn't even glance at the kitchen, doesn't move his eyes from mine. His
gaze his steady and warm and I recognize the beginnings of a blush stirring
in my cheeks because I know what he's thinking. "I'm ravenous."

He kisses me again then and we ignore the groans of our children as we lose
ourselves in our embrace. I love this man, I think to myself. I love
everything about this man. The kiss goes on and on, even though we both know
we'll have to stop soon so that the kids can eat. I don't want to pull away
from him. I don't want a single inch to separate us. He smiles against my
mouth like he understands.

And suddenly I'm filled with excitement for later tonight.

When we're alone.


The End


Send some feedback
More W/O fic
Something else