Jessica (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sparkysparky) wrote2006-01-12 11:35 pm
sparkysparky) wrote2006-01-12 11:35 pm
Sitcom Fantasy: Beat It R Ep. 1.2
This episode was also written way back in November '03, by the very lovely and talented Mantis St Mantis aka MantyPants She rocks my world. Really. This episode features Oz in an apron. Woot!
Hi everyone! Well, I'm being an evil, unapologetic cross-poster. *waggles booty* Anyway, this is my (short) episode for SitcomFantasy, but I figured other folk might enjoy a little piece of Oz/Devon silliness. So here it is. Hope you like! And you know how feedback feeds the muses and all.... :-)
Loven mitts,
Manty
Title: Beat It
Author: Mantis St. Mantis
Summary: Oz and Devon eat brownies and get silly.
Rating: PG-13
Clever disclaimer: You know this isn't mine.
Notes: This is for the SitcomFantasy list. Here’s Episode II.
Feedback: I love it like a fat kid loves cake.
Scene one: The Best Way to a Man’s Heart . . .
Devon came out of the bathroom, lured by the luscious smell of brownies. Oz-brownies. His favorite brownies.
"Oh dude," he called to Oz. "You sure know how to make a guy’s day perk right up!"
Oz came out of the kitchen wearing the usual Oz-uniform: jeans, T-shirt, and chunky shoes. But since he was baking, of course, he had some extra accouterments, namely an apron and the rooster-shaped oven mitts. It was such a delicious picture by itself that Devon wanted to say "fuck the brownies" and fuck his petite boyfriend instead. He decided on best of both worlds, though, so he kissed Oz and waited for the brownies.
"So, what’s the occasion?"
"I’m going to drug you and make you my sex slave," Oz said. A smirk tugged one corner of his mouth.
"But I already am," teased Devon.
"Oh, yeah, huh?" Oz shrugged. "No, really though, I just got into the weird baking groove. So, remember the librarian from high school?"
"Tweedy British guy?" Devon asked, his brow doing that cute furrowing thing that he got when he was contemplating.
"One and the same. He and his . . . boyfriend, I guess, live in this building. Along with, like, everyone from high school. Weird, huh?" Oz told Devon.
"Giles lives here now? With a guy?"
"Yeah, kinky British dude," remarked Oz.
"Weird. I always thought he had some fucked up Thornbirds thing happening with that Buffy girl," Devon mused as if that thought kinda turned him on.
Oz shrugged. "Well, bear in mind– even Richard Chamberlain came out eventually."
"Too true, too true. Wow. It’s like a high school reunion or something," Devon mused.
"Or some wacky sitcom written by people on crack," Oz offered.
The timer buzzed, signaling that the brownies were ready. Oz pulled them out of the oven and the apartment filled with the tasty scent of brownies. And weed. Wait? Weed?! Devon bent over the brownies with his nose almost falling into one and inhaled deeply.
"These aren’t just brownies!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "They’re Special Brownies– "
"– From the Land of Oz," Oz finished for him. "Good detective work, Dev."
"Wow. You don’t just bake the special brownies for no reason. Really, dude, what’s up?"
Oz shrugged. "What can I say? I’m the best boyfriend ever."
Devon leaned over and kissed Oz. A chocolate-laced kiss, deep and moist. "You know what would make you an even better boyfriend?"
"No, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me."
"Eyeliner."
"Ooh, you liked that huh?" Oz asked, a slutty little grin on his face. Devon nodded. "It’s in the van. I’ll be back in a few. Do not go anywhere."
He headed downstairs, humming the "I’m Gonna Get Laid" chant all the while.
Scene two: Loose Ends (Much later that day . . . )
Xander and Andrew could hardly keep their hands off each other as they raced back home from the sex shop. They had invested in enough lube to grease up a whale, and they were ready to try as much of it as possible. There was also a cornucopia of lotions and massage oils in a range of colors and flavors. Oh yes, this would be quite an evening.
"Sorry, I was late getting there," Xander offered as they walked up to their apartment building.
"It’s ok. I’ll make sure you never come late again," Andrew replied with a positively pornographic leer.
"Andrew Wells, you little minx! That whole naive innocence thing is such an act with you, isn’t it?" Xander accused. There was laughter in his voice, though. Andrew knew he liked it. His only response was a shrug.
As they bounded up the stairs, Xander caught a glimpse of familiar spiked hair and faded jeans.
"Oz!" he called out. Turning to Andrew, he said stupidly, "That’s Oz!"
"Oh, yeah, I met him the other day. He borrowed some sugar from Giles and Ethan."
Oz turned and spotted Xander. "Hey. Giles said you live here, too. With that guy." He pointed at Andrew and nodded.
"Yeah! This is cool! It’s like, the whole gang lives here!" Xander was getting far too excited about this prospect.
"Yep. Who else lives here?"
"Willow and Tara, Angel and Doyle, and Buffy and Cordy," Xander ticked off the rest of the gang that had moved to this area.
Oz raised an eyebrow. "Buffy and Cordy? How’s that for an unlikely match?"
"Oh, no, not a match. They’re roommates. I think. I guess you never know." Xander shrugged. "I wonder if they’d let me watch– ahem. Never mind. So, who . . . uh . . . you live alone?"
"Nah, me and Devon live down the hall."
"You and Devon? Huh. That’s so weird. We all live in the same building and we’re all a little . . . well, I’m not exactly . . . except that I like boning Andrew . . . and shutting up now. You know what I mean, so why am I babbling about it, right? We’re in a new millennium, things are . . . um, right," Xander babbled on and on.
"But I see that really, nothing much has happened in the way of changing," Oz observed dryly.
"Not so much," Andrew affirmed. "How did the brownies turn out?"
"They were good," Oz said. "Moist and delicious, in fact."
"Cool. I like to bake sometimes. I can make a funnel cake like nobody’s business."
"We should exchange recipes," Oz said without a hint of irony. It was hard to tell if he was serious, and if he was, that may have been the funniest prospect Xander had ever heard.
"Well, we have . . . um, things to take care of," Xander said, ushering his boyfriend down the hall.
Scene three: Oz, Devon, and the Quest for the Russian Dancers
Oz knew something was amiss when he walked back in the apartment. He saw the bathroom door was closed. When he tested the handle, it confirmed his suspicion: locked. The tell-tale grunts and groans came from inside.
"Oh god! So close!" Devon yelled.
"Dev, are you at it again?" Oz asked. He leaned his head against the door. A part of him worried that he was losing his boyfriend completely.
"Shh! Gotta just– oh yeah. Ohhh yeah. Who’s yo’ daddy?" Devon yelled, followed by squealing and other sounds of joy.
"You spent almost two hours in there last night. Doesn’t it make your hand sore?" He thought for a moment. "And the light sucks in there. You’re gonna go blind!" he warned. Okay, so he knew he sounded like a harping mom, but he was worried. He’d hardly seen Devon at all for days. He kept locking himself in there and playing for hours on end. Even the brownies only lured him out long enough to eat and blow Oz, and he usually got all kinds of excited over brownies. Now he was at it again.
The sounds inside the bathroom intensified. Slapping. Growling. It was time for action. Oz banged on the door. That didn’t prompt a response from Devon. He tried to wiggle the handle more, but to no avail.
"Dude! Just another minute!" came Devon’s impatient reply from behind the door. "Almost. There!" he cried triumphantly. After a final grunt and whoop of joy, Oz heard the 8-bit tones of that one song from The Nutcracker. He didn’t know what it was called, but that wasn’t the point.
Devon flew out of the bathroom, his GameBoy clutched in his hand. "I did it! I beat the game and got the Russian dancers at the end!" He showed the screen to Oz. The chunky, creamed spinach animation was alive with faceless dancers all over Red Square. "Neat, huh? I had forgotten how fun Tetris is!"
"You are a tweaker in a pothead’s body, Dev," Oz said and reached up for a kiss. "Care to position your block in my line?"
"Oh yeah. I’m psyched after my awesome Tetris victory. I could go all night."
They were naked before they even hit the bedroom . . .
Hi everyone! Well, I'm being an evil, unapologetic cross-poster. *waggles booty* Anyway, this is my (short) episode for SitcomFantasy, but I figured other folk might enjoy a little piece of Oz/Devon silliness. So here it is. Hope you like! And you know how feedback feeds the muses and all.... :-)
Loven mitts,
Manty
Title: Beat It
Author: Mantis St. Mantis
Summary: Oz and Devon eat brownies and get silly.
Rating: PG-13
Clever disclaimer: You know this isn't mine.
Notes: This is for the SitcomFantasy list. Here’s Episode II.
Feedback: I love it like a fat kid loves cake.
Scene one: The Best Way to a Man’s Heart . . .
Devon came out of the bathroom, lured by the luscious smell of brownies. Oz-brownies. His favorite brownies.
"Oh dude," he called to Oz. "You sure know how to make a guy’s day perk right up!"
Oz came out of the kitchen wearing the usual Oz-uniform: jeans, T-shirt, and chunky shoes. But since he was baking, of course, he had some extra accouterments, namely an apron and the rooster-shaped oven mitts. It was such a delicious picture by itself that Devon wanted to say "fuck the brownies" and fuck his petite boyfriend instead. He decided on best of both worlds, though, so he kissed Oz and waited for the brownies.
"So, what’s the occasion?"
"I’m going to drug you and make you my sex slave," Oz said. A smirk tugged one corner of his mouth.
"But I already am," teased Devon.
"Oh, yeah, huh?" Oz shrugged. "No, really though, I just got into the weird baking groove. So, remember the librarian from high school?"
"Tweedy British guy?" Devon asked, his brow doing that cute furrowing thing that he got when he was contemplating.
"One and the same. He and his . . . boyfriend, I guess, live in this building. Along with, like, everyone from high school. Weird, huh?" Oz told Devon.
"Giles lives here now? With a guy?"
"Yeah, kinky British dude," remarked Oz.
"Weird. I always thought he had some fucked up Thornbirds thing happening with that Buffy girl," Devon mused as if that thought kinda turned him on.
Oz shrugged. "Well, bear in mind– even Richard Chamberlain came out eventually."
"Too true, too true. Wow. It’s like a high school reunion or something," Devon mused.
"Or some wacky sitcom written by people on crack," Oz offered.
The timer buzzed, signaling that the brownies were ready. Oz pulled them out of the oven and the apartment filled with the tasty scent of brownies. And weed. Wait? Weed?! Devon bent over the brownies with his nose almost falling into one and inhaled deeply.
"These aren’t just brownies!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "They’re Special Brownies– "
"– From the Land of Oz," Oz finished for him. "Good detective work, Dev."
"Wow. You don’t just bake the special brownies for no reason. Really, dude, what’s up?"
Oz shrugged. "What can I say? I’m the best boyfriend ever."
Devon leaned over and kissed Oz. A chocolate-laced kiss, deep and moist. "You know what would make you an even better boyfriend?"
"No, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me."
"Eyeliner."
"Ooh, you liked that huh?" Oz asked, a slutty little grin on his face. Devon nodded. "It’s in the van. I’ll be back in a few. Do not go anywhere."
He headed downstairs, humming the "I’m Gonna Get Laid" chant all the while.
Scene two: Loose Ends (Much later that day . . . )
Xander and Andrew could hardly keep their hands off each other as they raced back home from the sex shop. They had invested in enough lube to grease up a whale, and they were ready to try as much of it as possible. There was also a cornucopia of lotions and massage oils in a range of colors and flavors. Oh yes, this would be quite an evening.
"Sorry, I was late getting there," Xander offered as they walked up to their apartment building.
"It’s ok. I’ll make sure you never come late again," Andrew replied with a positively pornographic leer.
"Andrew Wells, you little minx! That whole naive innocence thing is such an act with you, isn’t it?" Xander accused. There was laughter in his voice, though. Andrew knew he liked it. His only response was a shrug.
As they bounded up the stairs, Xander caught a glimpse of familiar spiked hair and faded jeans.
"Oz!" he called out. Turning to Andrew, he said stupidly, "That’s Oz!"
"Oh, yeah, I met him the other day. He borrowed some sugar from Giles and Ethan."
Oz turned and spotted Xander. "Hey. Giles said you live here, too. With that guy." He pointed at Andrew and nodded.
"Yeah! This is cool! It’s like, the whole gang lives here!" Xander was getting far too excited about this prospect.
"Yep. Who else lives here?"
"Willow and Tara, Angel and Doyle, and Buffy and Cordy," Xander ticked off the rest of the gang that had moved to this area.
Oz raised an eyebrow. "Buffy and Cordy? How’s that for an unlikely match?"
"Oh, no, not a match. They’re roommates. I think. I guess you never know." Xander shrugged. "I wonder if they’d let me watch– ahem. Never mind. So, who . . . uh . . . you live alone?"
"Nah, me and Devon live down the hall."
"You and Devon? Huh. That’s so weird. We all live in the same building and we’re all a little . . . well, I’m not exactly . . . except that I like boning Andrew . . . and shutting up now. You know what I mean, so why am I babbling about it, right? We’re in a new millennium, things are . . . um, right," Xander babbled on and on.
"But I see that really, nothing much has happened in the way of changing," Oz observed dryly.
"Not so much," Andrew affirmed. "How did the brownies turn out?"
"They were good," Oz said. "Moist and delicious, in fact."
"Cool. I like to bake sometimes. I can make a funnel cake like nobody’s business."
"We should exchange recipes," Oz said without a hint of irony. It was hard to tell if he was serious, and if he was, that may have been the funniest prospect Xander had ever heard.
"Well, we have . . . um, things to take care of," Xander said, ushering his boyfriend down the hall.
Scene three: Oz, Devon, and the Quest for the Russian Dancers
Oz knew something was amiss when he walked back in the apartment. He saw the bathroom door was closed. When he tested the handle, it confirmed his suspicion: locked. The tell-tale grunts and groans came from inside.
"Oh god! So close!" Devon yelled.
"Dev, are you at it again?" Oz asked. He leaned his head against the door. A part of him worried that he was losing his boyfriend completely.
"Shh! Gotta just– oh yeah. Ohhh yeah. Who’s yo’ daddy?" Devon yelled, followed by squealing and other sounds of joy.
"You spent almost two hours in there last night. Doesn’t it make your hand sore?" He thought for a moment. "And the light sucks in there. You’re gonna go blind!" he warned. Okay, so he knew he sounded like a harping mom, but he was worried. He’d hardly seen Devon at all for days. He kept locking himself in there and playing for hours on end. Even the brownies only lured him out long enough to eat and blow Oz, and he usually got all kinds of excited over brownies. Now he was at it again.
The sounds inside the bathroom intensified. Slapping. Growling. It was time for action. Oz banged on the door. That didn’t prompt a response from Devon. He tried to wiggle the handle more, but to no avail.
"Dude! Just another minute!" came Devon’s impatient reply from behind the door. "Almost. There!" he cried triumphantly. After a final grunt and whoop of joy, Oz heard the 8-bit tones of that one song from The Nutcracker. He didn’t know what it was called, but that wasn’t the point.
Devon flew out of the bathroom, his GameBoy clutched in his hand. "I did it! I beat the game and got the Russian dancers at the end!" He showed the screen to Oz. The chunky, creamed spinach animation was alive with faceless dancers all over Red Square. "Neat, huh? I had forgotten how fun Tetris is!"
"You are a tweaker in a pothead’s body, Dev," Oz said and reached up for a kiss. "Care to position your block in my line?"
"Oh yeah. I’m psyched after my awesome Tetris victory. I could go all night."
They were naked before they even hit the bedroom . . .