A load of lumber had been late, and when it arrived it had turned out to be substandard material. The driver wasn't too happy when Xander had refused delivery. While the boss had been glad that Xander had caught the glitch, he'd still been generally pissed, and thus was not pleasant to be around. Then some sort of goof-off bug seemed to be making the rounds of his crew, and he'd ended up snapping at some of them--not something you felt comfortable with when the snapees carried hammers on their belts and had access to nail guns.

He could have been at one of the local bars, trying to have a drink while surrounded by men he'd been... well, not exactly bossing. Xander was a good crew leader, and he knew it. He was always fair, he got good results, but didn't have ridiculous expectations, and he made sure that his men knew whenever they'd done a good job. But still, he was the one in charge during the day, and the guys might not out-and-out say anything, but there was never a feel of welcoming warmth.

So here he was, back at his old high-school hangout. Why not? There was beer in the fridge at home if he really felt like he needed it, and he was comfortable here. It was one of his free nights from Oogie Patrol (the regular sweep that Buffy and the Scooby Gang made through Sunnydale to keep the demon population under control), and he just wanted to be somewhere familiar and not have to deal with any life or dimension threatening situations.

Dingos Ate My Baby had finished a set and the band members had wandered down off the dias to do their various relaxing bits. Devon headed out to Oz's van for his usual mid-gig toke, and Oz came over and sat with Xander.

Oz was wearing his hair a red about two shades more subdued than that of Ronald McDonald these days. "Hey Xand," he said, sprawling in a chair. Well, as much as someone his size could sprawl. "Wassup?"

"Nothin' much, Oz. Things are pretty slow. Anywhere else that would be a complaint, around here it's a sigh of relief."

Oz tugged at his left earlobe. "I heard ya. My last turn around the burg was, pardon the expression, dead. Not a vamp, demon, or what-have-you in sight. It's been so quiet lately that even the winos are starting to stay out again."

The after dark homeless population in Sunnydale had been sparse for the last few years, due to the predation of the undead. Now that a couple of months had passed without a death... well, a death that anyone was officially aware of--they were starting to move back out into the streets, out of the shelters.

Xander sipped his Coke. "Can't say I'm exactly happy about that. Some of those guys are almost as scary as the vamps, and not nearly so well groomed." Oz was tugging at his earlobe again. "What's wrong with your ear, man?"

"Nothin'. Just got a new one. Look." Oz turned the left side of his head toward Xander, and Xander leaned closer, squinting in the dim light.

"Wow, kewl!" Oz had a hoop and a plain stud in his lobe, and just above that, a tiny wolf's head set against a silvery circle that was obviously meant to be the full moon. "But tell me that isn't silver."

"Pewter." He rubbed at it again, grimacing.

Xander noticed that the skin around the new stud looked pinkish. "Quit picking at that. Have you cleaned it?"

"Duh, Xander. It isn't like this is my first piercing, ya know."

"Did you take the right care of the others?" Oz looked down at his hands, fidgeting. "Thought so. Put some peroxide or something on that when you get home."

"Yes, Mom."

Xander threw a piece of ice at him. "Wanker."

"Been peekin' in the van again, Xander?" Oz teased. Xander blushed, and Oz smirked. Xander was a lot of fun to tease. He'd only recently come to terms with his sexuality, and still wasn't entirely comfortable with the lifestyle choice he'd made. Oz, on the other hand, had known what he was for a long time. Being a werewolf had its advantages in that area--the beast didn't question such a basic necessity as sex. The wolf philosophy was if it looks good, do it--if it feels good, do it twice.

"Look, have a talk with Devon about his weed usage, wouldya?"

Oz frowned. "Look, I haven't been busted, so I'm not down for any public service 'just say no' messages."

"That isn't what I'm asking. It's more along the lines of 'just say whoa'. There's a new sheriff in town, and I thought Dev might want to cool it a little till he scopes the guy out."

"New sheriff, huh? Matt Dillon?"

Xander bit his lip. "You talking Gunsmoke or Little Darlings?"

"Duh."

"Just checking. Well, he's tall enough to look like James Arness, but I think he's better looking. And the deputy he brought along sure isn't a Festus clone."

Oz sat up a little straighter. "Xandman, I do believe I heard interest in that tone of voice. Spill it." Xander shrugged, but Oz noted a faint flush rising in his cheeks. "Oh, man, the blood is rising! If we had any vamps in here right now they'd be all over you. C'mon, Xand, is he that hot?"

"They're both pretty nice, but they're together." Oz shrugged. "Together, together." He shrugged again. "Damn it, Oz, doesn't anything deter you?"

"Guns. Knives. Really, really bad BO."

"You're gonna get your fuzzy ass kicked one o' these days."

"Look, Xander, if you never try, then you die a virgin, and that is the true fate worse than death."

"I don't know how this conversation got around to this. Just tell Devon to be a little more discreet, huh? Like, not to have a joint parked behind his ear when he comes back onstage?"

"He only did that the last time because he was so stoned that he forgot he had it there. But I'll tell him."

"Great. I gotta go to the little boys room. Coke isn't quite as bad as beer, but you still rent it instead of owning it." He took a last gulp, getting a mouthful of ice, and walked to the men's room, crunching it.

Oz went out to his van to deliver Xander's warning. He caught Devon just lighting his second joint. "Hey, buddy. Harris gave us the heads up. There's some new dudes in the P.D. It might be cool to ease off just a little till you get to where you can sight them. There's no telling how tolerant they are."

"Yeah?" Devon took a deep toke. He didn't seem too very interested. Big surprise.

"Look, take another hit, then snuff it, okay? You're in my ride, and the last thing I need is having the damn thing impounded. On what we make, it'd take me a year to bail it out." Oz was concentrating on Devon, and didn't notice the pick-up that entered the lot and parked nearby.

Devon sucked in one more huge lungful, then carefully pinched out the spark on the roach while he held it in. His stamina never ceased to amaze Oz. The guy could hold his breath longer than Jaques Cousteau if he thought it would increase the buzz. Satisfied that the coal was dead, he carefully tucked the butt into a handkerchief, folded it, and put it in his pocket. Then he released the fragrant cloud of bluish smoke.

He climbed out with a mellow, peaceful grin on his face, patted Oz on the cheek, and began to meander back to The Bronze. Oz was fanning at the lingering cloud of smoke as the two men got out of the truck behind him. They exchanged glances, then came over.

"Hey."

Oz quickly slammed the van door shut, turning and leaning against it as casually as he could. He quickly assessed the two men, trying not to be too obvious about it, and failing miserably. Well, Short-and-Curly probably wasn't a problem, but Big-and-Buff looked like the authorotative type. This suspicion grew when he looked pointedly at the last few drifting wisps, sniffed, and said mildly, "Son, is your upholstery on fire?"

"Uh... no. I had some paper in the ashtray, and it caught on fire."

Shortstuff... Well, he was really about Oz's height, but more solidly built, put his hands in his pockets. "Did you set it on fire, or was it a friend?"

Uh-oh. Two of them, Xander had said--one of them tall, like Matt Dillon, and the other definitely not Festus, and together. With a sinking sensation, Oz said, "A friend, I swear."

The big one said, "You might want to ask your friend to be a little more careful."

"I will." It was beginning to look like his ass wasn't in a sling, at least not this time. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Oz." After a moment's hesitation, they both shook hands, introducing themselves. "You the guys Harris was telling me about? The cops?"

Blair's eyebrows crooked. "News travels fast."

"Yeah, well... Secrets travel fast in Sunnydale. You can keep them, but you gotta work at it. My band is gonna be doing its second set in a few minutes. Come on in and I'll have 'em set you two up with a free drink. Sort of a 'Welcome to Sunnydale'."

As they walked in, Jim remarked. "The people around here are real friendly. Xander helped us get moved in, now we have someone treating us on our first night out."

"Mm," Oz hummed. "Not everyone is so nice around here. Piece of advice? You see someone you don't know on the street after dark--don't talk to them, just go in the other direction as quick as you can. There's a table right up front for you. I'll go get 'em to set you up."

As he left, Blair said, "That's twice we've been warned about going around after dark. Jim, are you sure about this being a quiet little town?"

"I haven't seen anything to make me change my mind. I need to visit the can, Chief. I'll be right back."

Jim walked into the restroom, and stopped just inside the door. The urinals were around the corner, out of sight, and someone was talking.

"Come on, what do you think I brought you in here for? Dammit, just go ahead and do it! You can't tell me you don't want to, you sure as hell were sending me clear enough signals outside. Now we get a little privacy, and you pull this shit?"

Jim contemplated backing out and leaving whoever was in there to their privacy, but he really needed to pee, and he wasn't sure he could make it outside to a convenient bush, so he cleared his throat. The voice that had spoken said, "Oh, shit," quietly. He waited another second, then came around the corner.

Xander Harris was standing at one of the urinals, unzipped, a very nice cock in his hand, and totally alone. Surprised, Jim looked around. No one--not even any feet visible in the stalls. He upped his hearing a little and confirmed it: the place was empty except for the two of them. Then what the hell had he been hearing? Unable to resist, Jim looked at him questioningly.

The young man flushed. "I... uh... Well, some people get stagefright when they have to pee in public. Sometimes my dick doesn't like it even when there isn't anyone else around. I needed to pee when I came in. I still need to, but the damn thing isn't cooperating, and I know if I pack it away and go back out I'll just have to turn around and..." He trailed off, the blush deepening. "you know?"

"I can understand, but I was in the military for awhile. You get over that, or you ruin your kidneys." Jim stepped up beside him, unzipped, and leaned over the basin. "Maybe the sound of running water will help."

He started peeing. Xander listened to the splash of urine, then looked down with a surprised expressing when he started to pee also. "I'll be damned. If I knew that was what it took, I'd have turned on the taps a long time ago."

"A lot of it is psychological."

There was a companionable silence, broken only by the soft patter of fluid. Xander wondered if women shared the same sort of bathroom cameradery. They should, as much time as they spent in the powder room together. Then...

Damn it, he couldn't help it--he checked out Ellison's equipment... casually, he hoped. Getting caught staring in a situation like this usually led to one of two conclusions: sex or battery, and he knew Ellison was in a realtionship...

But he couldn't help looking. He hadn't acknowleged his own interest in men for long, and he was just starting to explore it. He wasn't a virgin, but he wasn't really experienced by any stretch of the imagination, and it would be a long time, if it ever happened, before he ceased to be fascinated by the sheer diversity and beauty of the male anatomy.

*Oh, wow.* He swallowed as quietly as he could. *You know you're gay when you look at another guy's prick and your mouth starts to water.* He looked away quickly. *If I start to get hard, I'm in deep shit.*

Jim shook off, fighting down a smile as he tucked himself away. *Pulse up, temperature up, couple of drops of sweat, and a nice whiff of pheromones. Someone is interested. Well, helloooo, Mr. Harris.* He went to wash his hands. "Blair's out at a table near the band. Why don't you join us when you're through?"

"Yeah, okay. That would be nice." *Whew--he didn't notice. I get to keep my head attached for a few more hours.*

Jim went back to find Blair sipping a Coke, watching the band as it tuned up on the dias. Jim checked them out quickly as he sat down. Judging from the fumes coming off the one with long, dark hair, and his red-rimmed eyes, this was Oz's 'friend'. He made note. Hopefully the kid would listen to his friend, and at least keep his weed intake limited to his house, or private residences.

Jim sat beside his partner. "Guess who I met in the bathroom?"

Blair eyed him in surprise. "You weren't gone that long."

"I said 'met'."

Blair frowned lightly. "Since this hardly seems like the hang-out for anyone from work, and since we've only really met one other person, I'd say Xander."

"We need to get you your own psychic friends hotline, Sandburg. He'll be here in a minute, after he shakes off and hopefully washes his hands."

Blair grinned. "The only time you really worry about someone's hygeine is if they're in charge of your food, or you're thinking about sleeping with them. Is Xander working part-time in the kitchen here?"

"No, he is not."

"Outstanding!"

Xander came out just as Dingos Ate My Baby were going into their first number He pulled out a chair across from Blair and raised his voice a little to be heard over the music. "Hey. How's the unpacking going?"

"Not bad." Blair jerked a thumb at Jim. "It helps to have Captain Anal Retentive here. There's only a couple of boxes left to go, and I had to practically tie him to the bed to make him go to sleep last night without finishing up."

"Don't listen to him." Jim stretched his legs out under the table. "He's always looking for an excuse to tie me to the bed." Jim watched the band, smiling as the pheremones kicked up another notch. He noticed the rapt attention Blair was giving to the red-headed guitarist. "You gonna be a groupie now, Sandburg?"

Blair didn't take his eyes off Oz. The boy's hands were small, but he had a musician's long fingers, and they moved fluidly. "What can I say, man? It's in my blood. I was born in '69. It's entirely possible I was conceived at Woodstock or Monterey."

"Your Mom and Dad don't know for sure?" Xander asked. It was more to make conversation than anything else. He figured that if you were doing it on a regular basis, it was pretty impossible to pinpoint conception.

"Mom isn't sure. Mom isn't sure about Dad, either. I never met the man--that I know of, anyway." Blair said casually. When Xander was silent Blair added. "I'm okay with that, though."

"Yeah. Why not? Sometimes knowing your old man isn't all that terrific."

There was such bitterness in the young man's voice that both Jim and Blair looked over at him in surprise. Xander was staring into his glass, scowling, but there was something almost wistful about his expression. The two older men exchanged glances. There was some history behind that statement. Maybe they'd find out later.

The band was pretty good for a bunch of local boys. In a larger city, with more exposure, they might even have the chance of getting an agent, even a record deal. Blair told Oz as much when he joined them after the band finished. Oz shrugged. "We've talked about goin' to Seattle, but hell. Every grunge band in America makes a pilgrimage there, right? Maybe some day." He dug an elbow into Xander's ribs and stage whispered. "You were right, man. They're cool."

"Shut up," Xander mumbled.

"He's shy," volunteered Oz.

"That's it! I'm walkin' home tonight."

"You don't wanna do that," Oz countered.

"You're right, I don't wanna do that. But if I stay in close proximity to you and your mouth, I might end up with these guys having to arrest me for assault or something."

"Damn, man, don't be so touchy."

"We can give you a ride home," volunteered Blair.

"I don't want to put you out," Xander demured.

"It's not like it's out of our way." Jim countered.

"Yeah, but you have a truck. Wouldn't it be kind of crowded?"

"Xander, a couple of months ago we fit Jim and myself, a pint sized Chicago cop, and a Mountie," Blair stretched a hand far up over his head, "this big in the cab."

Oz's forehead crinkled. "A Mountie? Okay, that's a story I wanta hear."

Blair winked. "Maybe someday when you're older."

Oz's grin broadened. "Oh, now I gotta hear it!"

"Some other time." Jim pulled out his keys and jingled them. "You two ready to go? I want a long, hot shower before I go to bed." Xander had a mental image of Jim, stripped and soaped. Jim noticed that Xander's pulse kicked up another notch. He couldn't resist teasing a little. He rubbed Blair's shoulder and said, "Think I could talk you into one of you famous back rubs?"

"You know it, Big Guy."

The kid was blinking a little too often for it to be casual, and the pheromones were thickening. His imagination must be working overtime. Sure enough, when they stood up to go, he turned away for a moment and made a quick adjustment, tugging at his waistband and wiggling his hips in a vain effort to loosen his now tight fly.

In the parking lot, Oz loaded a sleepy Devon into the van before waving and taking off. Jim got behind the wheel, and Xander stood back as Blair opened the door. Blair motioned him in. "Uh uh. I ride shotgun--always."

*Crap. I'm gonna be right next to Ellison. Please don't let him look down, please don't let him look down. Why the hell did I sit that close to him? Now Sandburg is in on the other side, and he's so close I can't scoot away without ending up in his lap. And his leg is rubbing against mine every time we hit a pothole or take a curve. Crap, crap, crap! I'm gonna have the worst set of blue-balls in the world when I get home.*

Jim thought that Xander was going to hyperventilate before they got back to the apartment. *Damn, how long has this boy been celibate? Too long, from the way he's reacting.*

At the complex, Xander got out of the truck, moving more carefully than he had when he got in, and walked to the apartment in kind of a sideways sidle. "Well, it's been real. We must do this again sometime."

"Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night?" Jim asked.

Blair regarded Jim in surprised, but said, "Yeah. We'd love to have you."

Xander didn't notice the warning nudge Jim gave Blair. "Sounds great, but I have something I have to do tomorrow night. How about the next?"

"It's set, then." said Blair. "Any allergies or major hates we should know about?"

"Well, I'm not much on fish, due to an incident in my past which we won't discuss right now, and I think too many green vegetables make me break out in hives. Other than that, I'm pretty much your basic garbage disposal." He blushed. "Uh, not that I'm implying that your cooking... I think I'd better go home now. Fumble mouth, and I can't even blame it on being drunk."

They watched him enter his apartment, then went into their own. Once inside, Blair crossed his arms, watching as a cheerfully whistling Sentinel tossed his keys in the basket that had made the trip from Cascade with them. "What are you up to, Ellison?"

"Me? What makes you think I'm up to something?"

"Give it up, you can't do innocent nearly as well as I can. Yesterday you were all hesitant about Xander. 'He's awful young, Blair. Just because he doesn't have a problem with us being together doesn't mean he wants to join in, Blair.' And that tone of voice when you talked about the shower, and the back rub. What changed your mind all of a sudden? Because you are thinking about him that way. I can tell."

"So can I. That's why I'm thinking about him that way."

Understanding dawned. "Ohhh." He smiled slyly. "Smelled good?"

Jim sighed. "Ripe. I'd be really surprised if he isn't beating off right now. It's a shame there won't be anyone to enjoy it with him, but I think he might have freaked if we moved this soon."

"Day after tomorrow will be soon enough. This town is just thick with possibilities."

"Don't tell me, let me guess. Oz?"

"Jim, he has a wolf earring."

"Oh, well then."

"Quit teasing me or I won't give you that back rub."

"How about a front rub?"

"That's usually included, isn't it?"

"I love you, Darwin."