Picture This
by Amz

It wasn't that Giles was particularly fond of surprises, it's just that he didn't like making fusses as such. Of course it did make his heart beat that little bit faster, thinking of the look on Oz's face when he opened the door to find Giles standing in the dimly lit hallway outside the small flat they called home. Giles could never deny that he was a romantic at heart. He smiled as he pictured the face that he had so strangely come to cherish.

Some people sighed with relief as the lights of the airport came into view. Mothers told their children with some excitement that they were now home. The idea of 'home' seemed to warm the hearts of most, even the unsettled gentleman who had sat beside Giles for most of the flight and threatened to darken the watcher's spirits.

Giles turned away from the window and the sliver of moon that had guided him home and glanced at the gentleman who now nodded to himself with contentment.

"Thank god we're almost there," the man exhaled, scratching his beard. "I hate flying."

"Yes, long flights," Giles replied, pushing his bag under the seat in front of him with his right foot and fastening the seatbelt across his lap. "It's lovely to be home." He murmured.

There was a moment of silence before the man spoke again. "Tell you what, it sure makes you miss the wife an' kids, doesn' it?" And he started to tap on the arm rests with what Giles decided was anticipation.

"True. I'm looking forward to seeing my boy." Giles smiled slowly.

"Oh yeah? How old is he then?" The man stopped tapping.

"Almost twenty-two," Giles replied. "It's his birthday soon."

"An' what's he do for a livin'?" The gentleman was interested.

"He plays guitar in a club actually," Giles nodded. "He's very good."

The man nodded politely. "My kids are still in school." He said.

"Ah." Giles replied. "I don't have any children." He said, turning his attention back to the sliver of moon, thinking Oz thoughts as the plane descended.


There was no raven hair to greet him at the flat. No magenta either, as he had secretly hoped. Giles set his bags down in the hallway and immediately began to search through his luggage for the key.

The place was tidier than he had expected, save the records spilled over the coffee table in a careful, but definitely Oz, manner. His face warmed at the sight of clothes strewn over the couch and unmade bed in their room. His eyes then fell on a table in the corner of the room and his heart stopped beating.

Edging closer to the table, the watcher's eyes swept across a collection of photographs that were almost stacked in the one same pile. His fingers went out to caress a half finished collage that Oz had obviously been working on for some time. Tears sprang to Giles' eyes suddenly, as he pictured Oz cutting out each image and carefully sticking it down on the thin board.

He'd never seen some of these pictures before, but he remembered when all of them had been taken. A tear rolled down Giles' cheek and he quickly wiped at it, lest it descend from his chin and harm this beautiful creation in any way. His yearning for the younger man had doubled in an instant. The collection of images, in which Giles was so prominently featured, expressed a devotion that Giles had sometimes doubted in Oz.

He'd never been so touched in all his life.

Giles grabbed his coat and left the flat, walking briskly out onto the street.

He would find this boy he cherished so.