Late Night Stoner Party


Title: Late Night Stoner Party
Author: Perry
E-mail: icemulder@hotmail.com
Characters: Oz, Devon, Oz's mom
Rating: PG with drug use
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Joss Whedon does
Summary: Oz and Devon hang out late one night.
Author's notes: Not much plot, just Oz and Devon hanging out.
It was deadly silent in the house. The hourly chime of the grandfather clock and the random howl of a stray animal out in the street were the only distractions the guitarist faced, and he welcomed them gladly.
It was close to 4am, his parents and band mates had been asleep for hours, so it was during this time of serenity and aloneness that Oz took to write his music. He sat cross legged on his neatly made bed, a thick notebook nestled in his lap, a pencil in his hand and a tune developing in his head. The boy had been working for hours, and he knew Devon would be blown away by the sounds and lyrics scribbled over, so far, 3 notebook pages.
The boy attempted an amused expression as he glanced back at the unfinished homework occupying over half of his notebook. He didn't plan on doing any of it now, or perhaps ever, that night was all about the music.
"That's what it's all about," the boy whispered hoarsely with a voice that hadn't been used in all night.
"What is?" the sudden male voice coming from the doorway startled Oz, but he relaxed immediately upon seeing Devon.
"Mind if I…" Devon left the sentence unfinished, let the joint entwined in his fingers do the talking.
Oz shrugged, indifferent either way. Devon smirked, and closed the bedroom door behind him. He sat down in an overstuffed chair opposite the room from Oz, and cracked open the window.
As Devon carefully lit up, he noticed what Oz had been doing, "Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt--"
Oz raised his hand to halt Devon's attempted departure, "Just stay quiet, I'm almost done."
Devon nodded, and slid into the shadows of the room, only the smoke coming from his doobie showed any indication he was there.
Oz watched the bluish silhouette of Devon for a moment, then concentrated on recapturing the melody he had created. His pencil eraser tapped the edge of the notebook rhythmically as he read over the song, satisfied by his accomplishments that night. More work would be put into the song drafts, but he thought it was polite to wait until daylight before breaking out his guitar.
The dizzying scent of Devon's pot made Oz's nostrils flicker. Half of him wanted the light headed feeling it gave him. The other half wanted him to ignore the temptations that involved the pot, and to focus on his song.
His fingers itched to be holding one of the rolled up papers. He busied them with the hem of his blanket. Closing his eyes, trying to think of where to go with the song. There was something missing in it. It lacked the certain edge, the certain hook every song obtained, the thing that made listeners beg to hear it over and over.
Most of Oz's greatest ideas came to him while he was stoned. This thought, combined with the need to complete the song and the longing to smoke, made Oz reach for his hidden stash, taped underneath his nightstand.
"Knew you couldn't resist," Devon teased with a smirk, having been closely watching Oz's internal, ethical battle.
Oz released a sigh of contentment as he lit up and took his first puff. He leaned back against his headboard, all the worries and concerns drifting effortlessly out of his brain. Everything gradually slurred and blurred, and a grin curled Oz's lips as he once again picked up the pencil and notebook.
"What's the song about?" Devon asked, looking over at Oz, seemingly checking him over, seeing if he was okay. This obviously wasn’t the first time Dev and Oz had shared a late night stoner party. Devon read Oz's expressions (or lack thereof) with ease, knowing exactly when Oz became high for the first time in two months. He had vowed to be dry for the duration of his relationship with Willow, but sometimes kicking back with his two best friends; Devon and marijuana, was just the thing Oz needed to maintain his cooler than cool exterior.
As his pencil flew across the faded blue lines of the paper, Oz's eye lids grew heavy, and he was feeling pretty guilty for breaking his vow.
What was the song about?
That question from Devon was all Oz needed to persuade him away from the unplanned guilt. His smoking and breaking of inner promises was all in the sake of music.
"Stuff," was the only word Oz seemed to be able to form, as his lips were becoming too tired to form coherent sentences.
The song was about stuff. It had references to marijuana, beer, the state of being high, the sadness of being unexpectedly dry. There was talk of inner-demons, of fist fights, and the dwelling and repression of bad childhood feelings and experiences. The song dealt with heavy issues, all centered around a fairly catchy tune. There'd be a killer guitar solo, some really long notes for Devon to show off the extent of his singing abilities. Mainly, this song said and did it all. He wasn’t the bragging type, but Oz had to admit he had done fairly well.
"It's cool," Oz shrugged, setting the notebook aside, "We can check it out later."
Dev nodded, taking a long puff, "Later sounds great," he tried his hardest to make at least one smoke ring after that, but didn’t succeed.
Oz stretched, acknowledging how little of his joint was left. He was dead tired, but proud of all he had accomplished.
"We'll do everything later," Devon continued on with the 'later' ramble
"Putting a lot of stuff to do later," Oz smiled, "We really are a couple of classic stoners, aren't we?"
"You could say that. Fact, you could say that really well," slightly confused, Devon changed the subject, "This pot is good."
Oz found himself nodding enthusiastically.
The boys continued their conversation, mindlessly making small talk and chatting about nothing at all.
Both boys about jumped out of their skin when Mrs. Osborne entered her only son's bedroom.
"Jesus, Mom," Oz laid back, having sat forward in sudden fright, and brought the joint to his lips, not caring that his mom was there.
Devon waved to her, and gave his nuts a quick scratch before reaching for Oz's baggie.
"Daniel," his mother said accusingly, "I thought you were dry." She sat down on the edge of his bed, and picked up the notebook.
"Wrote some songs," Oz seemed to ignore his mother's disappointed tone, until he spoke up again.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted some clear-headedness. Plus, Devon was doing it!"
Mrs. Osborne smiled, knowing that Oz would do anything that Devon did and vice versa. She patted Oz on the knee, letting him know she wasn’t mad, "Just be sure it's all put away and you boys are sober by the time Jordy gets here."
"It's like 4am, he wont be here for a while!" protested Devon.
"Devon, it's 6am, and Jordy's coming at 7:30," Oz's mother said calmly, knowing the angry and defensive-ness was only coming from the pot.
"Shit," Oz put his out, and got out of bed, "I haven't even gone to sleep yet."
"Then where are you going?" Mrs. Osborne asked.
"Coffee," Oz threw over his shoulder as he stumbled into the hall.
His mom smiled knowingly, Oz would be asleep by noon. She tidied his room up a little, disregarding Devon.
As his mom left, Oz came back into his bedroom with a mug of coffee. He slouched down on the arm of Devon's chair.
Dev took the scalding hot coffee cup Oz was offering him, and passed the cigarette in exchange.
"So, you planning on sleeping?" Devon asked, taking a careful sip.
Oz shrugged, holding the smoke in his throat for a second before breathing it out, forming a perfect smoke ring, "I'll do it later."
With a laugh, Devon traded Oz the coffee for the joint, "Just like a couple of classic stoners, huh?"
A grin formed in Oz's normally expressionless features, 'You could say that."
"I can say that really well," Devon broke down into a giggle fit, Oz soon accompanying.
END

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