Chrome trim and freshly waxed paint jobs dazzled blindingly in the heated Indian summer sun. Xander winced behind his sunglasses, trying to keep up with his uncle. "C'mon, boy," the old man shouted. "Can't get the best spot if you're gonna dilly-dally!"
Greasers and rockers and middle-aged wannabes looked him over as he followed his uncle further and further into crowd. Girls with teased bangs and boys with perfect coifs nudged each other and laughed as he stumbled, foolishly, over a steel-toed boot.
"Sorry, sorry," he said, trying to right himself without ruining a single leather jacket or carefully pressed shirt. "SorryŠ"
A hand appeared seemingly out of nowhere, helping him up. Xander reached for it and smiled, wiping the dust from his face as he looked towards his benefactor. "Thanks for thatŠ" he said. He blinked. "As cliched as this is going to sound, don't I know you from somewhere?"
The boy nodded. "High school." He held out his other hand, offering it for a shake. "I'm Oz."
Xander shook it, pumping it away in gratitude. "Xander. And thanks." He looked towards the crowd, sighing. "You didn't see a fifty-something fat balding man smelling of peppermint and formaldehyde and wearing an orange leisure suit, did you?"
Oz raised an eyebrow and pointed towards a stage in the distance. "He was heading towards that, but then he veered off to the left. I think he's going over to the beer tent..." He gestured again, pointing at a bright white tent with a long line before it.
Xander looked, then sighed. "That figures. 'C'mon, Xander, let's celebrate you getting your license...' he said. Should've known he was just lookin' for someone to drive him home when he got plastered..." He looked back at Oz. "Thanks for the help," he said again. "Guess I better go get the keys from him before he starts trying to drag race or whatever it is they do here."
He started walking in that direction, and barely noticed Oz following him. "Hey," Oz said. "You drive?"
"If occasionally allowed behind the wheel of a station wagon that screams 'Hello, I'm a soccer mom' and carrying Uncle Rory's beer-sodden self home every once in a while counts as driving, then, yes, I can drive."
Oz smiled. "Then c'mon." He started walking off in the other direction.
Xander stared at him. "But Rory —" he said, gesturing ineffectually at the beer tent.
"They'll take his keys away when he gets his first beer — it's policy here." Oz looked back at Xander. "You can pick 'em up when he's ready to go home."
Xander frowned, looking between Oz and the beer tent, where he could just make out a man in bright orange. "Really?" he asked.
"Yeah. With the cars people bring here, no one wants to be the one to get too drunk and smash 'em up." He started walking again. "C'mon."
Xander paused, just to look again at Rory, then ran to catch up with Oz. "Where are we going?" he asked, looking around.
Oz gestured towards a few tents and a row of vans. "Shopping," he said.
Xander tilted his head slightly, looking at the vans. "But if you buy one here, how're you gonna get it home?"
"Sold the old one already. Need a new one to drive back."
Xander stopped and stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You came all the way out here, sold your van, and unless you buy a new one — today — you're not gonna be able to get home?"
Oz shrugged. "Pretty much covers it."
Xander gaped. "But...But what if you don't find a van?"
Oz shrugged again. "Don't know," he said. He looked towards the vans again. "Never happened before..." He resumed walking.
Xander stared at him, then, again, ran to catch up.
Oz had reached the van tent, and was currently shaking the hand of a large bearded and tattooed man, who, strangely, was holding in his other hand a large doll dressed in bright pink. When Xander reached them, breathing hard, the man looked up at him. "You with him?" he asked, gesturing at Oz.
"For reasons yet beyond my ken," he replied, gasping slightly.
"He's helping me pick out a new one," Oz said.
"Oh yeah?" The man looked Xander over. "You lookin' to buy one of your own?"
"Not unless you've got one for..." Xander reached into his pockets and counted his change. "Eighty-two cents and a button."
The man grinned at that and gestured towards the vans. "Go on, find which one you want, Oz. I've gotta fix Marybelle before Becky gets back," he held up the doll, which, Xander now saw, was missing an arm. "So just give me a holler when you find one you wanna try out."
"Sure thing," Oz replied, already heading off to the vans.
Xander followed him, lamely kicking dust with his sneakers. "So, uh..." Xander said, searching for conversation. "You do this a lot?"
Oz peered in the window of the nearest van. "Every once in awhile," he replied.
"Just can't stand to look at the same thing every day, huh?"
Oz looked back at him, smiling faintly. "Something like that."
Xander frowned. "You don't, like, have a crime spree right before you sell it off, knowing that people will be looking for your old van, which won't be your van anymore, do you?"
Oz actually grinned at that. "No, no crime sprees." He paused. "I just like passing on things that I like."
"Huh?"
Oz gestured at a van in front of him. "If I like it, then someone else will like it too. So why should I keep it?"
"I don't get it."
Oz opened up the side door of one and looked in. "Think of it this way," he said. "You find a doughnut shop that makes the best doughnuts in the world. Do you tell others, so that they can appreciate the best doughnuts in the world, or do you keep it to yourself?"
Xander frowned. "I tell others," he finally said.
"Exactly." Oz stepped into the van, moving towards one of the bench seats. "You give other people the opportunity to enjoy the doughnuts that you love, and I give other people the opportunity to enjoy the vans that I love." He sat on the bench seat, then patted the space next to him. "Climb in."
Xander carefully stepped in and sat down on the other side of the seat. "Is this when you test sit?"
Oz closed his eyes. "Shh," he said.
Xander opened his mouth, then closed it again. He sat there, looking at Oz for a few seconds, then shook his head. "I don't know, man. It kinda smells weird. And that weird stain on the wall looks like a duck."
"Shhh," Oz replied.
Xander fidgeted a little, waiting. He traced the duck stain on the wall with his eyes, then tried to find other creatures in the other stains on the walls. He had just decided that there was a pony, a dragon, and something that looked like half of an elephant when Oz opened his eyes and smiled.
"Well?" Xander said.
Oz nodded. "I think I'm going to take this one. But..."
Xander looked around at the van again. "But what?"
"I have one more test."
"Oh yeah? You gonna sit on top of the van and — mff!"
Oz's lips were pressed against Xander's suddenly, tasting of lip balm and Juicyfruit gum and Xander didn't know whether or not to flail or just fall into the kiss, and he didn't get a chance to figure it out either. As soon as he registered that it was Oz kissing him, the kiss was over, and Oz was nodding and looking at the van.
"Mm-hmm," Oz said. "I think this is the one."
This Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer story was written by Kate Bolin. If you liked it, there's plenty more at http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/. And you can feedback her at dymphna@dymphna.net.