by Amz

The crowds thinned out as he walked, destination in mind, along one of the quieter streets in his town. Streetlights faded as he neared the club and footsteps became loud and distinct, until suddenly a door swung open and the sounds of late Saturday night celebrations spilled out onto the sidewalk.

Giles pushed easily through the swarm of generally cheery folk, greeting those he knew with a pat on the back as he passed them, heading for the stairs. He climbed them two at a time and the noise of the bar below him soon faded beneath his eager stomping.

The watcher pushed on the door at the top of the stairs and greeted Phil the doorman.

With a quick glance around at the loyal patrons who often visited and spared no expense on moderate meals and overly expensive drinks, Giles settled his wanting eyes finally on the picture they so eagerly sought out.

It was obvious why patrons spent such good money on shoddy meals.

His hair, magenta on a whim and what Giles now liked to think was intuition, shone under the overhead lights. The light then spilled onto the wolf's face and brought out paled perfection. He sat on a simple, carved wooden stool in the centre of the modest stage and strummed his guitar as he sang.

Giles smiled the tiniest smile, puffing his chest out with a great, big breath, complete. He slid into a chair in the back of the room, hushing Andora, his favourite waitress as she passed him by with a welcoming embrace.

Then the room was still and not a soul dared to exist or at least move as Oz sang a love song to the character who'd run away to help another soul. This strange liquid voice; thick and rough around the edges but ever so gentle, spilled out across the room and Giles leaned into his fist as though it was the only thing stopping him from leaping across the tables to interrupt this sweet melody.

And then people were applauding as Oz's hand fell away from the strings of the instrument and the feet of a wolf found the ground to allow him to stand as a look of sudden shock swept over his face.

"Giles?" Oz spoke into the microphone, shielding the light from his face with the hand that didn't hold his guitar up. He panned the room quickly, raising his nose a little as if to scent out the older man.

Giles stood and nodded once, proudly, and as Oz found him, he enriched his smile.

"Andie," Oz spoke quietly, locking his gaze on Giles. "Bring my old man a drink, would you?" And he descended the level of stage and passed the tables full of familiar people who knew of this strange, warm couple and wondered many things about them.

Giles adjusted his glasses and studied the face of the younger man before him. Really, he didn't like surprises after all. It would have been much simpler a reunion at the airport.

But Oz looked upon him with some disbelief and behind this, a large amount of happiness, Giles was now certain. Still, they both just stood there dumbly.

"Hey." Oz blinked, his nostrils flaring with emotion. "So what brings you here?"

The watcher's hand went out to caress the smooth skin. "I haven't the faintest idea," He murmured. He raised his eyebrows. "Certainly, it has nothing to do with a marvellously talented young man with," Giles stroked the locks, "Magenta spikes." He smiled.

Oz pulled Giles' neck down and crushed his lips against the older man's mouth. Giles melted instantly into the arms of the wolf and supported him at the same time. One firm hand pressed against Oz's back and drew their bodies together for this perfect moment.

When their lips parted, each pulled slowly away to gaze into the other's face. They had a beautiful, unspoken understanding.

"So what brings you here?" Oz asked again, forehead wrinkled in mock confusion, his arms firmly wrapped around his lover's waist.

Hands continued to comb through cherished hair. "This." Giles said, smiling. "This will always bring me here."