coprime_writes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
coprime_writes) wrote2004-05-16 07:26 pm
coprime_writes) wrote2004-05-16 07:26 pm
Entry tags:
Buffy/Highlander: Electric (Daniel "Oz" Osbourne, Richie Ryan)
Title: Electric
Author:coprime
Fandom: Buffy/Highlander crossover
Characters: Daniel "Oz" Osbourne, Richie Ryan
Rating / Word Count: PG / 798 words
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, not me. Highlander belongs to Fox, not me.
Summary: The ride had been silent without even the radio to break it. Just the sound of tires on the road and that clunking noise he'd never managed to find the source of.
Notes: Originally written for the Story Seed VII challenge in![[deadjournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/dj-community.gif)
acropolis.
~Electric~
Oz briefly looked over at the guy sitting in his passenger seat. Richie was young, Oz's age or little below. His red hair was natural, and his coat bunched oddly. Oz knew what a concealed weapon looked like, but Richie didn't seem like the kind to use it without provocation. Instead, he stared out the window at the passing desert landscape. To Oz's wolf senses, the air around his passenger crackled.
He'd said his name was Richie, and Oz believed him. Though he couldn't have said why. Maybe his passenger looked too young to use a fake name, except given the right circumstances anyone would be willing to take a fake name. He'd found Richie hitchhiking through the Painted Desert, which certainly hinted that there was something going on. No one could hitchhike through the desert without supplies.
Oz trusted his instinct though; Richie hadn't been lying about his name.
~
~
Oz sees a figure trudging down the highway shoulder. As he nears, the figure slows and holds his hand out, thumb up. Oz stops, and the figure opens the door to talk, though he does not make a move to come in the van.
"Where are you headed?" Oz asks.
The figure—a male—smiles tiredly. "Anywhere you are."
"No kidding. Well, I'm not headed anywhere in particular, but you're welcome to come along for as long as you want."
The man climbs in, and Oz takes his foot off the brake.
"What if I stay forever?" the man asks.
"Then you'll have to help pay for gas." Oz pauses. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me your name?"
"Richie."
Oz nods, storing the information carefully. "I'm Oz."
~
~
The ride had been silent without even the radio to break it. Just the sound of tires on the road and that clunking noise he'd never managed to find the source of. Oz liked the silence. The colored rocks on either side of him were serene. Everlasting. He could see the waxing gibbous moon high above the ridge ahead and to his left.
Oz parked in a scenic turnoff that night. He had an extra sleeping bag, which he laid out next to his own in the back of the van while Richie worked on getting his old ministove lit. It was lit and Richie had stuck a can of chili on it by the time Oz joined him outside.
Dinner was just as quiet as the van drive. Richie huddled in his coat, but Oz reveled in the cool winds blowing across the desert. Even if they blew dirt in his food. A little dirt never hurt anyone, or else no one would have survived past childhood.
Richie finally decided to sleep while cleaning up dinner, with his face hidden by the ministove.
"Look. Oz. I really do appreciate you letting me ride with you. And I'm sorry I've been such a quiet passenger so far."
Oz hopped in the back of the van and held his hands out to take the ministove from Richie. "You're welcome. And there's no need to apologize."
"Oh."
Richie handed over the ministove then got in the van. He took off his coat and was carefully folding it when Oz shut the van's doors. The pair laid down on top the sleeping bags, and it was mostly quiet. Outside, Oz could hear the animals that had hibernated during the hot day waking up and coming out of their hidey-holes. He would have liked to have slept outside, under the stars, but it was too impractical.
Inside the van, he heard soft rustles from Richie trying to get to sleep. Oz wondered if Richie also felt the electricity that surrounded him or if it was something else. As an experiment, he let his hand hover just above Richie's arm. The electrical feel was more distinct, not just pricking his skin but passing through and radiating down his fingers.
Richie turned to look at him.
If life were a romance novel—like the respectable ones Willow kept on a shelf in her room or the less-respectable ones she kept hidden under her bed—the electricity would be the start of something. Richie would pour his heart out about whatever was bothering him or he'd simply lean over and kiss Oz, but either way the romance novel version of the scene would end in sex.
In real life, Oz said, "Huh," and retracted his hand. Richie turned back over, and both were soon asleep. By late afternoon the next day, they had reached a small town. Richie decided that he wanted to walk a bit more, so Oz left him at the gas station. And the only testament to Richie's trip with Oz was an echo of electricity in Oz's hand.
Author:
coprimeFandom: Buffy/Highlander crossover
Characters: Daniel "Oz" Osbourne, Richie Ryan
Rating / Word Count: PG / 798 words
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, not me. Highlander belongs to Fox, not me.
Summary: The ride had been silent without even the radio to break it. Just the sound of tires on the road and that clunking noise he'd never managed to find the source of.
Notes: Originally written for the Story Seed VII challenge in
acropolis.~Electric~
Oz briefly looked over at the guy sitting in his passenger seat. Richie was young, Oz's age or little below. His red hair was natural, and his coat bunched oddly. Oz knew what a concealed weapon looked like, but Richie didn't seem like the kind to use it without provocation. Instead, he stared out the window at the passing desert landscape. To Oz's wolf senses, the air around his passenger crackled.
He'd said his name was Richie, and Oz believed him. Though he couldn't have said why. Maybe his passenger looked too young to use a fake name, except given the right circumstances anyone would be willing to take a fake name. He'd found Richie hitchhiking through the Painted Desert, which certainly hinted that there was something going on. No one could hitchhike through the desert without supplies.
Oz trusted his instinct though; Richie hadn't been lying about his name.
Oz sees a figure trudging down the highway shoulder. As he nears, the figure slows and holds his hand out, thumb up. Oz stops, and the figure opens the door to talk, though he does not make a move to come in the van.
"Where are you headed?" Oz asks.
The figure—a male—smiles tiredly. "Anywhere you are."
"No kidding. Well, I'm not headed anywhere in particular, but you're welcome to come along for as long as you want."
The man climbs in, and Oz takes his foot off the brake.
"What if I stay forever?" the man asks.
"Then you'll have to help pay for gas." Oz pauses. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me your name?"
"Richie."
Oz nods, storing the information carefully. "I'm Oz."
The ride had been silent without even the radio to break it. Just the sound of tires on the road and that clunking noise he'd never managed to find the source of. Oz liked the silence. The colored rocks on either side of him were serene. Everlasting. He could see the waxing gibbous moon high above the ridge ahead and to his left.
Oz parked in a scenic turnoff that night. He had an extra sleeping bag, which he laid out next to his own in the back of the van while Richie worked on getting his old ministove lit. It was lit and Richie had stuck a can of chili on it by the time Oz joined him outside.
Dinner was just as quiet as the van drive. Richie huddled in his coat, but Oz reveled in the cool winds blowing across the desert. Even if they blew dirt in his food. A little dirt never hurt anyone, or else no one would have survived past childhood.
Richie finally decided to sleep while cleaning up dinner, with his face hidden by the ministove.
"Look. Oz. I really do appreciate you letting me ride with you. And I'm sorry I've been such a quiet passenger so far."
Oz hopped in the back of the van and held his hands out to take the ministove from Richie. "You're welcome. And there's no need to apologize."
"Oh."
Richie handed over the ministove then got in the van. He took off his coat and was carefully folding it when Oz shut the van's doors. The pair laid down on top the sleeping bags, and it was mostly quiet. Outside, Oz could hear the animals that had hibernated during the hot day waking up and coming out of their hidey-holes. He would have liked to have slept outside, under the stars, but it was too impractical.
Inside the van, he heard soft rustles from Richie trying to get to sleep. Oz wondered if Richie also felt the electricity that surrounded him or if it was something else. As an experiment, he let his hand hover just above Richie's arm. The electrical feel was more distinct, not just pricking his skin but passing through and radiating down his fingers.
Richie turned to look at him.
If life were a romance novel—like the respectable ones Willow kept on a shelf in her room or the less-respectable ones she kept hidden under her bed—the electricity would be the start of something. Richie would pour his heart out about whatever was bothering him or he'd simply lean over and kiss Oz, but either way the romance novel version of the scene would end in sex.
In real life, Oz said, "Huh," and retracted his hand. Richie turned back over, and both were soon asleep. By late afternoon the next day, they had reached a small town. Richie decided that he wanted to walk a bit more, so Oz left him at the gas station. And the only testament to Richie's trip with Oz was an echo of electricity in Oz's hand.