The party at Brewer's house was still going full swing, even after the
Dingoes wrapped up the last song of their set. To compensate for the current
lack of live entertainment, Brewer threw in a random cycle on his stereo
system, keeping the party on track. "You guys kicked ass, Dev!" Brewer cried
over the loud bass, slapping a fifty dollar bill down in his hand. "Oh, and
Mike," the party's host said, turning to the bass player. "Thanks for the
loan. I'll get the fifty back to you asap."

Devon turned to the bass player as the drunken boy made his way across the
room, his eyes shooting darts. "You loaned Brewer the money for our fee?" he
asked incredulously. Mike nodded and shrugged, totally oblivious to the
reason Devon was upset. Grabbing Mike by the back of his neck, Devon rapped
his knuckles roughly against the other man's forehead. "Hello?! Are you
freakin' daft?"

"Dev," Oz said, laying a comforting but firm hand on his best friend's
shoulder. "Why worry about it? If Brewer doesn't pay up, it comes out of his
pocket. We'll still get our cut," Oz explained reasonably.

"It's the fucking principle, Oz! If we ever want to be taken seriously as a
group, we can't pull BULLSHIT! like that," Devon said, sending an icy glare
at Mike, who winced and hurried away. Devon turned back to Oz, his mouth open
and ready to spew forth a slew of profanities, but he was cut off by the
appearance of Buffy Summers at Oz's side.

Buffy seemed to take no notice of Devon as she crouched along with Oz, who
was placing his guitar in it's case. "Oz, let me ask you a question," Buffy
began, not giving him time to respond. "Is it just me or has Willow been
permantly pre menstral lately. I mean, I can say anything these days without
her giving me that damned "I'm not your sidekick" speech. I mean, I know
she's not my sidekick and she knows she's not my sidekick, so where's the
freakin' problem? It just made me so mad! I swear I could just..." Buffy
trailed off, punching the air.

Oz grabbed Buffy's wrist and held it tightly. "Please, no Mime Buffy anywhere
near the vicinity of my guitar," Oz said, releasing her wrist and dropping
the lid to his case. "But I sympathize with you, Buffy. Although, I'm glad to
say I don't feel your pain."

"I'm glad that she's not pulling the witchy Willow thing on you, but you seem
to be the only one. I mean, yesterday she even snapped at Giles. *Giles*,"
Buffy emphasized. "If I didn't know Giles so well, I'd say he was on the
verge of slapping her silly." Buffy took a moment to think that over,
laughing to herself at the image her words had created. Then frowning and
chastizing herself. "Oh!" she cried, as she felt someone's hand close around
her upper arm and drag her up into a standing position. Turning angrily
around, she came face to face with the lead singer of Oz's band.

"I'm sorry to interupt your little melodrama here, but we were talking
business before you so rudely interupted us," Devon said, leaning down so
that his face was just inches from hers. Oz blanched when he noticed both of
his friends faces had turned a bright shade of red, which meant ALERT! DANGER!

"Hey, guys," Oz said, forcefully pushing himself between the two of them, one
hand on Devon's chest the other on Buffy's. He blushed right away and
snatched his hand back, giving Buffy an apoligetic and embarrassed look that
she didn't even notice. She was still giving Devon a hard stare over Oz's
shoulder. "Look, why don't we compromise? We'll all go have a couple of beers
and you two can take turns bitching to me about your problems," Oz suggested,
looking to both Devon and Buffy for their approval, which neither of them
gave before he grabbed them both by an arm and started dragging them through
the party.

After finding the quietest corner in the party, located in the den where ten
or less other party goers were mingling, aka making out, Oz sent Devon off to
get them some beers, which he seemed more than willing, even eager, to do.
"I'm sorry, Oz, but for the life of me I can't understand why a cool guy like
you would choose to socialize with a pompous ass like him," Buffy griped,
sitting back huffily against the loveseat they were both seated on.

"It's funny," Oz said, looking out across the room at nothing, a small smile
on his lips.

"What?" Buffy asked.

Oz shook his head, turning his gaze to meet Buffy's. "That's exactly why I
hang with Devon. If I'm ice then he's fire. If I'm right then he's wrong. If
I'm Simon then he's Garfunkel. You know what I'm saying?"

"Uh uh."

"I'm just saying that whatever I lack, he has and vice versa. We're made for
each other, me and Dev," Oz finished with a shrug. "Anyway, for some reason,
you came to me with a problem. You should probably finish your vent before
Devon gets back and decides it's his turn to share."

Buffy sighed and a mopey look smeared her features. "I don't know really.
It's not really as bad as what I made it out to be. I just....well, ever
since that night you came on patrol with me, I feel like I can tell you
what's bothering me and you'll really listen. Sure, you'll make dry
wittisicms about shifty benches and stuff, but I thought it might just be
nice to talk to you. We don't talk enough, I don't think," she explained,
turning her body towards his and resting her elbow on the back of the
loveseat.

"So, did you come here to complain about my snarky girlfriend, or just to
talk to me?" Oz questioned.

"Little of both," Buffy answered with a small smile. "Guess I'm just lonely.
Xander's on a date with Anya and Willow is *forcing* Giles to help her work
on her conjuring. It was hang with you or with Mom and guess who won?"

"Mom, but she had Book Club," Oz said sarcastically.

"Close. The Art of Asian Cooking class," Buffy joked back. Or at least that's
the way Oz took it.

"Here." Oz and Buffy's conversation was interupted once again when Devon
thrust a dripping can of beer in Oz's face. He gratefully accepted, but
raised an eyebrow when Devon didn't offer one to Buffy. "Did you get
something for Buffy, Dev?"

"Yeah," Devon said, picking up a red plastic cup off of the coffee table and
handing it to Buffy before seating himself at Oz's feet. "Fruit punch," he
explained before popping the tab of his beer.

Buffy rolled her eyes as Devon perched his elbow across Oz's knees, watching
her very closely as she took a deep drink. "Mmm, yummy."

"It's spiked," Oz told her. "I'm sure whatever's in it will have you seeing
pretty colors after a couple of cups."

"It doesn't taste spiked," Buffy commented.

"It never does."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About an hour and four Tropical Tangos later, Buffy lay listlessly against
the side of the couch, looking poutingly at the bottom of her cup. "All gone.
Devon, can I have another one?" she asked with a sachrine sweet smile.

"No problem," Devon said, making a move to get up from his place on the
floor, but Oz's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"No, no more of that, Buffy," he told her giving her a firm look when she
turned her pouty expression on him. "Here, drink this instead," he said,
taking the can of beer from Devon's hand and giving it to Buffy.

"Oh, great. Now what am I supposed to drink?" Devon complained.

"I'll tell you what you can drink," Oz quipped crudely, causing Devon to
burst out in a fit of stifled laughter.

All three of them had consumed a fair amount of alcohol, more than Oz had
been planning to, but Devon could be so persuasive sometimes. The swimming
feeling in his head was a definite sign of drunkeness, which could be
considered as not cool, since he felt the strong obligation to keep cool
around Buffy. Speaking of Buffy, the poor girl was three sheets to the wind
after her second cup and he was going to have to remain sober enough to take
care of her. Unfortunately, sober enough to take care of her was three beers
ago.

"All right, people!" a loud drunken voice penetrated Oz's non thoughts.
Brewer was swaying in the doorway of the den, addressing them and the other
four people in the room. "Party's over. Ya ain't gotta go home, but you can't
stay here."

Devon groaned, but pushed himself up to his feet, giving Oz a helping hand.
It took the guitar player about two tries, but finally he was in something
that resembled a standing position. "Okay, Brewer. We'll see you later,"
Devon told their host as he and Oz both lifted Buffy off of the couch. "Don't
fall asleep in her toilet again," Devon warned, slapping the boy on his back
as the three swaggered out of the room.

After the were out of the house, Buffy made a whiney sound and let her head
fall onto Oz's shoulder. "I absolutely cannot walk all the way back to my
dorm," she informed them.

"No prob, Buffy. Oz has his van," Devon reassured her.

"If you think I can drive, you're even drunker than I thought you were," Oz
said, twisting his arm around Buffy's waist so that the girl was more
comfortable and his shoulder bone was no longer digging into her cheek.