Give It To You

"Do you wanna do the movie date thing at my house this weekend?" Willow asked Oz as they walked through the halls of SHS, hand in hand.

"He can't," a voice said from behind them. Willow turned to face the invader just in time to see Devon force himself between her and her boyfriend, breaking their hold on each others hand.

"He can't?" Oz asked the lead singer of his band, trying to make an annoyed face but failing miserably.

"Don't look at me that way, man. We've been asked to play at a battle of the bands in Sacramento," Devon explained, pushing Oz over a little so that he could put some distance between himself and Willow.

"We have?" Oz asked.

"Yep, I heard it's going to be a pretty big event. WSAC is sponsering it. The winner will get a thousand bucks and one of their songs will be aired on their station," Devon said, throwing an annoyed look at Willow as if she were invading their personal conversation.

"Could be cool," Oz ammended. "You wanna go, baby?" Oz asked, looking passed Devon to Willow.

Willow smiled widely and opened her mouth to answer, but was quickly cut off. "She can't," Devon said, before a large smile spread across his face. "Unless she wants to wear that leather outfit again."

Willow's eyes widened. "Nope. No leather for me. I'm non-leather girl," she said.

"Ozman, I'm seriously hurt here. We haven't had any quality time of our own and you want to bring your girlfriend," Devon said with a mockingly sad look on his face.

"Oh, I don't have to go, Oz. I think Giles needs me to research this weekend anyway," Willow told him.

"Hey, what's up with you and that librarian anyway? You two spend too much time together. It's not normal," Devon sneered.

"I...I have to go. I'll see you at lunch," Willow told Oz and sped up her pace to join Xander at his Locker.

"Man, why do you still let her hang with that loser after you know about what happened between them?" Devon asked Oz.

"So, tell me more about this battle of the bands," Oz changed the subject.


"Man, can you believe this?" Devon asked Oz excitedly as he tuned his guitar.

"Yes," Oz answered blandly.

"But, man, Mark McGrath and Jordan Knight are judging. Dude, Jordan Knight," Devon said, practically bouncing in anticipation.

A small, almost non-existent smile curled on Oz's lips. "Yeah, I remember when we were nine, he was like your idol. You wanted to be just like him."

"Yeah, man. And he's here. Right out there. Do you think we'll get to meet him? That would be so phat!" Devon said.


"Man, I can't believe we didn't win," Devon said dejectedly as he wrapped up his mic cord. "It's all that fucker, Kid Roc's fault!"

"Not really. He gave everybody zeros," Oz said, packing his guitar away.

"Yeah, except that band that had the chick lead singer with big tits," Devon added grumpily. "Oh, shit!" Devon's eyes widened suddenly as they focused on something over Oz's shoulder.

"What?" Oz asked, looking himself up and down as if he had something on him.

"Jordan Knight. He's headed this way," Devon whispered. "Hey, be cool, man. Don't act all fan-like."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Oz said, laughing to himself.

"Hey." Oz turned around to see the former New Kid standing over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Devon repeated, jumping to his feet.

"I just wanted to tell you guys that I thought you were great. I voted for you anyway. You should have won," Jordan Knight said, glancing from Devon to Oz and back again.

"Uh, thanks," Devon said, smiling sheepishly and looking down at his feet.

"Look, I'm having a little party at my hotel and I thought you guys might want to show. Do a little mingling," Jordan offered.

"Hell yeah!" Devon said, noticing the flinch that Oz gave at his overly excited reaction to the proposal. "I mean, why not? Could be cool," he said, in a much calmer voice, but still unable to hold back his large grin.

"Great," Jordan said in a soft voice, giving a short smile. "My limo is waiting outside when you guys are ready to go." With that, the man-boy turned to leave, but thought about it and turned back. "And Devon, I wanted to let you know that your vocals were very moving. I'm interested in talking to you about that." Then he turned and walked away.

Oz had to fight the strong urge to puke when he saw his friend nearly swoon. "Okay, normally I'm not this crass, but that guy is such a flamer," Oz commented.

"He's not a flamer," Devon defended. "He's just sensitive and shit."


Ten minutes later Oz found himself being dragged through a crowd of screaming thirteen year old girls, to a stretch limo. Bouncers were busy prying the little teeny-boppers off of the hood, to make room for Devon and the rest of the band. "See, this is what I want!" Devon shouted at Oz over the screeches that was nearly blowing Oz's eardrums. His enhanced hearing wasn't helping matters at all.

"Your goal in life is to become a pediphile?!" Oz shouted back, but Devon wasn't paying attention, to focused on pushing his way to the open door that awaited them.

Finally, the band was able to make their way the screaming fan-girls and into the limo. Oz was about to let out a sigh of relief when his eyes fell on that of their host. A tremor of sudden fear suddenly ran through him, but he shook it off. Of course, he's entertained the idea that Jordan Knight may be evil, but he hadn't put him in the goulies category, but he was getting some seriously wicked vibes from him now.

He didn't have much time to process this new and scary sense as the limo screeched away from the curb. During the short ride to the hotel, which they were dropped off in the back of, Jordan spoke to them all about how disappointed he was that they hadn't won. Mike and Brian both seemed exceedingly amused by the fact that they were actually hanging out with Jordan Knight, confounding the singer when they'd suddenly burst into fits of laughter after every time he spoke.

After they'd left the limo and entered the hotel through the kitchen, Oz clutched onto Devon's shirt-tail, so as not to fall behind the quickly moving team of body guards that were rushing Jordan to the employees elevators.

Soon, Oz found himself and the rest of the band being led into a large suite, teaming with people waiting for their host's arrival. As they entered, many people swarmed around the former New Kid and Oz thought this might be his chance to pull Devon off to the side and let him know about his trepidation, but unfortunately, Jordan pulled Devon along with him to introduce him to a hoard of people.

With a sigh of resignation, Oz allowed himself to lose sight of his friend, deciding that his worries were probably unbased and far from realistic. Besides, Devon would have to be an incredible wuss to let Jordan Knight do anything to him that he didn't want. Seating himself on a couch, he turned to see a man at the other side. Much to his unobvious distress, he found himself looking into the eyes of Joey McIntyre. When the little girlie boy began talking to him, Oz was overcome with the sudden urge to throttle himself with his shirt collar, but surprisingly didn't let on.

Devon was on cloud nine, his natural giddiness mixing well with the three or four drinks he had consumed. Jordan was introducing him to a number of people, most of them with connections in the music industry. Oz, Mike and Curt were being way flippant about this. Didn't they realize what this could do for the Dingoes? Then his eyebrows furrowed together as the image of him and the other guys dressed in Tommy Hilfigher and dancing to an electrified beat as they crooned obnoxiously about 'love' flashed before his eyes. Some time before the night was over, he was going to have to dicern whether these were the kind of connections that the Dingoes wanted.

Giving one last smile to the pretty woman that he was talking to, Jordan gave her a quick apology before excusing himself and gently pulling Devon along with him. The two of them weaved around the many people until they came upon a door that Jordan opened and gestured for Devon to enter before him.

Devon walked into the room, finding it to be spacious with a huge bed. He turned to find Jordan leaning casually against the door with a faint smile on his lips. Lifting the glass in his hand, to his lips, Devon took a big gulp of his 7 and 7 without breaking eye contact.

"Ya know, Devon," Jordan said, pushing himself away from the door and walking in a slow, wide circle around him. "I think it was probably fate that I was judging at that contest tonight."

"You mean it wasn't for publicity or lack of a better offer?" Devon asked, seriously looking confused.

"No, I think the two of us were meant to meet. You are so talented Devon and I can help you bring that talent to the world," Jordan said, flashing a bright smile.

"Thanks, dude, about introing me to all of those people," Devon said, suddenly feeling very nervous.

Jordan shook his head. "We've only known each other for just a few short hours, but I feel really close to you, Devon. And I want to give you something."

Devon's brows furrowed, but he didn't speak as Jordan walked to the other side of room. The other man continued to fiddle with something that Devon couldn't see since his view was blocked. Suddenly the sound of carnie music filled the room, followed by an up beat. When Jordan turned back around, he held a microphone in one hand and wore an attempt at a sexy smile on his face.

Devon's eyebrows shot up as Jordan opened his mouth to belt out a line of high pitched lyrics.

"It's creeping around in my holding you down in my don't have to say a word...I'm convinced you want, you know that I'll give it to you...your body needs a man like me..."

By now, Devon was fully aware that he had once again put himself in a sticky situation. The horror of what was coming from the other man's lips was making Devon's limbs go limp with fear. He, at that moment, realized that he was in the presence of true evil. Forcing, his body to respond to his thoughts, he turned to make a bee line for the door.

Unfortunately, the alcohol that he had consumed had made his movements slow and uncordinated and he was easily caught. Two arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and with a strength that could only be discribed as inhuman, he was tossed across the room, landing in the middle of the large bed with an 'ooomph'.

"Just let me know, and I'll give it to you....tell me where...I'll taste you there."

Devon's flesh crawled as the creature moved towards him, dancing quickly along to the beat. "No! Please!" he cried, but there was no way to prevent the attack.


"Oz, you're a beautiful person. There's no other person in the world that you could be better at being you."

Duh, you fairy asshole. Oz thought as the wide-eyed man child spoke to him, seeming to repeat the same sentence over and over again, only using different words each time. Sniffing distainfully, Oz was now fully prepared to be rude and walk away from this bullshit, but a strong scent hit his nostrils. It was heady and fear laden. That was all it took before he bolted off of the couch with superhuman speed. It's Devon. He's afraid.

After pushing his way through the crowds in the room, Oz twisted the knob of the door. He knew Devon was in there. The knob refused to twist at first, but stepping back a few feet, Oz ran into the door with full force, causing the wood to crack and give way.

The sight that he found put a tremor of fear in him, yet the anger he felt was overpowering. His best friend was pinned to the bed with their host over him, covering his face in slobbery kisses.

"Take your filthy boyband hands off of my buddy, you high-pitched jag off!!" he yelled, his finger pointed accusingly.

Jordan Knight turned away from a sobbing Devon, pinning Oz with a hateful stare. Oz nearly backed away when he saw the man's eyes glow a florescent pink as he let out a hiss. Out of the corner of his eye, Oz spotted the discarded microphone and swooped it up before jumping onto the bed.

Jordan screamed like a girl and tried to back away from the testosterone-filled, yet secure, boy. Pulling back with the microphone, Oz cut off the glass shattering wail by shoving the mic so far down his throat it burst through the other side of his head.

Oz pulled back as the former singer began to melt into a huge puddle of liquid pink goo, covering a still-quivering Devon in the remains. "Now, that's what I call the 'right stuff'," Oz monotoned the pun as any good Slayerette would do.

"Oz!" Devon cried in relief and sat up to throw his arms around the waist of his best friend. "I was so scared."

Oz stroked Devon's hair. "Just let that be a reminder whenever you nod your head to an N' Sync song. Or mouth the words to a BSB song. They are all evil, Devon."

Wrapping an arm around Devon, Oz began leading his friend out of the room. "Does Savage Garden count?" Devon questioned.

"Yes, Devon. Yes, they do."