Better Than
The first place Xander looked for Oz was Devon's house.
Not that he actually knew where Devon's house was, but he still had the address written in his much-abused 99-cent address book, under "Oz" and written in the thin narrow caps Oz liked to write in, from when Buffy and Willow had just moved into the dormitories and were obsessed with making sure he knew where they all were.
So he had an address, and he had Oz's offhanded comment that he was staying at Dev's (okay, he was staring at Willow the entire time, but he must've meant it for everyone, right?), and he figured that, yeah, Oz was a good friend, and it'd be good to see him, without the girls, kind of a mano-a-mano thing, right?
Right.
So he had an address. And a map. And some time to kill. And it was Oz, and Oz needed him.
Well, maybe it was that he needed Oz. And it was less need and more like "I've been without male companionship save for GI Joe there, vampire bastard here, and middle-aged British guy over there, and, to be honest, just not the same."
So, really, needed.
But all that was way too much thought. And, instead, he drove down one of those anonymous blocks over by the college, tried to figure out house numbers, and then realized that Devon's house was probably the one with the Christmas lights on. In April.
Which didn't really surprise him, from what he remembered of Devon. What with the glittery jeans. And eyeliner. And the groupies.
Man, did he remember the groupies.
But the address was right and he got out of the car and onto the porch and knocked on the door and stood there impatiently, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say. Aside from "Dude" and "Man" and "Oz", because he was sure that was what Devon had been saying to him. But while he was trying to think up something witty to say (maybe like "So how did the van hold up in your road trip?" or "Seen any movies lately?" or "When you get a chance, want to have another Star Wars fest?"), the door opened, and he was pulled into the house, which smelled like pizza and cheap incense.
"Yipe!" Xander squealed. He looked around. "Um."
The hand that had grabbed him fell away from his shirt, and the person who it was attached to leaned in close, staring at him. "Hey," the person said. "You ain't Ann."
Xander's eyes adjusted to the mood lighting (a couple of red scarves thrown over lamps, that sort of thing), and he looked at the person who had pulled him in. "Um. No." He sighed. "Um. Hi, Devon. Is Oz here?"
Devon scowled and fell into the nearest sofa, landing perfectly against the cushions to slouch like any major rock star would. If they were as drunk/stoned/whatever as Devon appeared to be. "Naw, man, he...um..." Devon waved his hand around distractedly. "Out."
Xander nodded. "Ah." He frowned slightly. "Anywhere in particular or just out in the greater universe?"
Devon laughed. "Greater universe! Yeah!" He stared at his hand for a few seconds, then looked up. "Oh. Yeah. He's at her place. Wanted to talk or some shit like that." Devon slumped back against the sofa. "'Oh no, Dev,'" he said in a flat monotone. "'I can't stay long. I have to talk to Willow.'"
"Oh," Xander said, slightly deflated. "At Willow's." He sighed. "Of course." He reached into his pocket for his keys. "Any idea when he'll be back?"
Devon waved his hand again, and was hypnotized by it. "Nope. Just went out. Like he did before. Bitch."
Xander frowned. "Right..." he said, very slowly. "I'll just...be going then." He nodded. "Nice seeing you." He took a step towards the door.
"Naw, man, naw!" Devon suddenly stood up, practically leaping from the couch. "Gotta stay! Have a beer! Chill out! Sit down!" Devon waved Xander into a chair, then strode over to the stereo. "Wanna hear some cool music or something? Because I've got, like, this CD of this new band from L.A., and they're tight." He hit "play" on the CD player, and there was a sudden deafening roar of guitars. "Want a beer?" he shouted over the music.
"What?" Xander shouted.
"A beer!"
"A deer?"
"Beer!"
"Near? Near what?"
"BEER!"
Xander looked at him really strangely. "Queer?"
"BEEEEEEEEEER!" The song suddenly ended and Devon's last "er" was shouted out into the silence.
"Um." Xander's voice was back to normal. "No, thanks."
Devon shrugged and, as the next song started up, walked into the kitchen and got himself a beer. He walked back with it in his hand, already half-empty, and looked at Xander, his head tilted sideways, as if it would change things. "Why're you looking for Oz anyways?" he asked.
Xander frowned. "What?"
Devon rolled his eyes and fished around on a nearby coffee table, knocking over ashtrays and empty cans until finding the remote. He turned down the volume on the stereo, then turned back to Xander. "Why're you looking for Oz anyways?" he repeated.
Xander continued frowning. "Huh?"
Devon leaned against the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, staring at Xander. "Like, I understand why that Willow chick kept on coming back, because, y'know, she was his girlfriend and all that, but...why you?" He stared even deeper at Xander. "Like, who're you? And who're you to Oz?"
Xander stared back at Devon, trying to find deep and meaningful explanations, but could only come up with "Um...."
Devon matched him, stare for stare, then started laughing. "Shit! I sound just like him!" He kept on laughing for a few minutes, then straightened up. "Hey, wait. I know you-- you're Willow's friend, aren't you?"
Xander nodded, glad for something that mildly made sense. "Yeah, yeah, Willow's friend. Oz's friend too, but Willow's friend first."
Devon nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I remember you..." He took another drink of his beer, finishing off the can, then threw it back into the kitchen. "Hey, I got a question for you," he said, walking over to Xander.
Xander blinked a few times, then nodded. "Um...yeah?"
Devon nodded and fell back down on the couch opposite Xander's chair. "Yeah." He smiled widely. "What's he see in her anyways?"
Xander blinked a few more times. "Excuse me?"
Devon shrugged. "Like, what does he see in her? Because, y'know, me and him, we were like that--" he said, crossing his fingers tightly. "And, then, like, she appears, and then, I'm just, y'know, the best friend or something." He sighed heavily and stretched out on the couch. "Is she, like, really really good in bed or something? 'Cause I thought that we were doin' really well, but..."
Xander blinked. Again. It was the only reaction he could have. "Um. Huh?"
"You know," Devon said, waving his hand. "What's she got that I don't?" He straightened up. "Is it the pussy? 'Cause, okay, yeah, I got a cock, but it's a fucking excellent cock. All the girls say so." He reached for his belt. "Hell, even Oz said so, and he has the fucking best cock I've ever seen." He undid his belt, and his fingers fumbled over his button and zipper. "Fucking huge, man. But you totally have to see mine, because, like, if you see it, then you can compare it to whatever that Willow chick has between her legs, and you'll totally find out that I'm so much better than she is."
Xander's mouth opened. Not in anticipation, but, instead, in terror. Because Devon had finally managed the zipper and had pulled down his pants, and there it was, semi-erect, bobbing gently against tan skin and crinkly brown hair.
"Um," Xander repeated, and some minor part of his brain noted that it had become his new favorite word-- the very very small part that wasn't currently screaming in giant billboard-sized "OH MY GOD".
"Yeah," Devon said, absent-mindedly scratching the little trail of hair that led from his belly button down to The Thing Xander Was NOT Thinking About. "Nice, isn't it?"
Xander swallowed. Xander tried to look away. Xander even tried the trick he always used when he was in bed with Anya and didn't want to come yet-- thinking about Giles wearing his mother's underwear.
None of it worked. He was drawn to staring at it, like a car wreck, but much less bloody, damaging, and, okay, yeah, he had to admit. It was a nice cock. Although Xander didn't have much to compare it to, his experience being, mostly, the occasional snuck glance at guys in the urinals, Larry strolling through the Sunnydale High showers like he was king of the world, and, y'know, his own. Which wasn't bad. And hadn't at all become half-erect itself, no, no, no, NO. Down, little Xander.
"Um," and the teeny-tiny part of his brain winced at the use of that word again. "I should go."
Devon shook his head. "No way, man. You gotta tell me what you think." He waddled over to Xander (his pants still around his ankles) and waved his...manliness? Manhood? A million other euphemisms that didn't make Xander think about cock? It didn't really matter what Xander called it at the moment, because it was waving back and forth directly in Xander's face, and Devon picked up his hand, setting it onto his cock before Xander even realized that his hand had moved.
"See? Feel that? It's fucking great, isn't it?" Devon panted softly and pressed himself against Xander's hand. "Kind of cock you wanna grab onto and never let go, y'know?"
"Um." Even the little part of Xander's brain that had remained sober and conscious had been drowned out by the sheer size of the "OH MY GOD" that appeared when Xander realized he was holding Devon's cock. And jerking it off. Like how he did at home. Well, when Anya let him. She occasionally had these issues about "preserving his seed", and...
He was jerking off Devon!
He snapped back into focus, and just as he was about to let go, Devon groaned, thrust hard against his hand, and came all over the place. On Xander's hand, down Xander's arm, even a bit on his shirt. And just as suddenly, Devon slumped back on the couch again, idly stroking his sticky cock, smiling and nodding at Xander. "See?" he said, proudly. "I told you it was a fucking great cock."
Xander blinked.
"Um..."