Title: Lunch Break
Characters: Oz, Cordelia
Rating: R
Word count: 978
Recipient/prompt:
punch_kicker15 who wanted Oz, the van, a secret, and family but no comics canon or Tibet.
Warnings: Drug use
Setting: SHS parkinglot late in S3 of BtVS (sometime before the prom)
Beta:
robotgortSummary: Oz is chilling in his van at luch, trying to cope with life. Turns out he's not the only one with problems.
Lunch was overrated: everyone scrambling to the cafeteria for food with less nutrition than the cardboard it came in. Not to mention the lunch ladies at Sunnydale High were particularly frightening. Oz thought Buffy should have done more to inspect the kitchen for demonic activity, but there wasn’t a whole lot of senior year left, so maybe it didn’t matter.
He finished rolling a joint and lit it before sighing and laying back against the floor of his van. He inhaled deeply. Damn wolf. Tomorrow was the day before the full moon and Oz was getting antsier than hell. Leaving the joint wedged between his lips he picked up his bass and strummed a few cords.
He was taking another deep hit when the side door to the van flew open and a girl tumbled in. She quickly slammed the door closed behind her. He sat up and tried to hide the joint in his hand. “Cordy?” he asked, surprised to see her.
Cordelia crumpled into a ball on the floor of the van. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She took a deep breath and coughed. “Are you getting high?”
“Yeah, wolf,” he said. To his surprise, Cordy just nodded like she understood. He held the joint out to her. “Want a hit?”
“No, uh…no.”
Oz shrugged and took another drag, holding the smoke in and letting it start to burn before slowly breathing it back out.
Cordelia sat and stared at the dirty carpet that covered the floor of the van.
“Did you need something? Or just a place to hide?” he finally asked.
“Kind of both.”
He waited.
“After school do you think you could drive me somewhere?”
“Sure, where?”
“I got a job at a fashion boutique. I need to be there by four for my shift.”
Cordy with a job? “Do you want to explain that one?”
“No.”
He waited.
Her hands twisted around each other. “My parents, uh, really my dad…we lost everything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I have enough clothes and stuff to last the rest of the year without my friends finding out, I think.” She abruptly pinned him with a glance. “You won’t say anything, right?”
He shook his head. “You doing alright?”
“Not even close. And I feel stupid. It’s just money, right? You have to deal with being a werewolf, and Buffy has to save the world, and Willow and Xander have to help her and…”
“Cordy, it’s okay,” he said.
“No it’s not!” she almost shouted.
“I didn’t mean it’s okay you’re broke, I meant it’s okay to feel like the world’s ending. To grieve for how you thought your life was going to be and isn’t now.”
“Oh.” She set her jaw. “Thank you.”
They sat in silence. Oz pinned the end of his joint between the jaws of a roach clip.
“Is it okay to be mad at my dad?”
“Sure. I’m sure he didn’t time this to piss you off, but you can be mad. Who wouldn’t?”
She sighed. “What does your family think about the whole, y’know, wolf thing?”
“My parents don’t know. I have to have an excuse to not be home every month for three days. It’s starting to get on my mom’s nerves. She’s been making some weird comments lately. I think she believes I’m gay.”
“Family sucks.” Cordy dropped her head into her hands. “I guess you had to do the whole grieving thing over a massive life change, too.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m still working on that. It’s hard knowing if I mess up I might kill a bunch of people.”
“Guess I shouldn’t complain. The worst that’s going to happen to me is that I don’t get the prom dress I want.”
“Hey,” he leaned forward. “Don’t think because you’re not in a life or death situation that your feelings don’t matter.” Oz smiled. “Plus, I bet even if you don’t get your dream dress you’ll still look better than Harmony.”
“Yeah, like, duh.” Cordy rolled her eyes. She put her hand on the door. “I’ll see you after school, then?”
“Sure, but wait, you should probably Febreze.” He pointed to the bottle tucked under the passenger seat. “And, uh, don’t tell Willow about…” He wiggled the burnt-out end of his joint at Cordelia.
Cordy wrinkled her nose. “She doesn’t know?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s stupid. Willow doesn’t care that you’re a werewolf but you toking up to help deal the day before you change would freak her out?”
“She’s kind of black and white on some things. When she was six Saturday morning cartoons told her drugs were bad, so-“ He shrugged.
Cordy huffed. “No worries, I won’t say a thing.”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t know what she’d be complaining about anyway. It’s better than dog-breath,” Cordy grumbled as she got out.
He shook his head and grabbed his bottle of Visine out of the van’s central console. At least the wolf seemed to have curled up and gone to sleep. Maybe he’d actually be able to concentrate on his afternoon classes. For a while anyway. Once night fell he’d be hard pressed to ignore the instinctual urgings and he’d end up pacing around his bedroom.
At least he had another half-ounce and an excuse to tell his girlfriend. Being in a band had its perks. Maybe his parents would believe it if he told him he needed to stay at Devon’s for a couple of nights to practice before a big gig. He hadn’t used that one in a while.
Now if only he had an excuse to tell himself that’d make him feel okay about spending the next three nights chained in a cage.
Oz climbed out of the van and shouldered his backpack. He headed off to class, humming a Duran Duran song under his breath.