Monosyllabic Eccentricity

Title: Ribboned
Author: Karen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Morning After
Disclaimer: Don't sue.
Website: OzMIA


"This isn't going to work."

Oz opened one eye. The focus was off. Everything looked blue. Gently things lost their soft fuzzy edges and Oz was aware of a stabbing pain in his left arm. "Wha-?"

Devon stared down at him. His big soulful brown eyes crinkled with concern. "You're gonna be fine, buddy. We just had to um... Do stuff to you."

Stuff? "Stuff?"

The other eye opened and he could see a long thin tube going from his arm, up, up and away into a thick bag full of dark red fluids. "Devon," he growled.

"Relax Oz, it's rum. Red rum..." Devon laughed at his own joke and thwaped Oz on the painful arm. "Oh, sorry, listen it's okay. You're fine."

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Devon's eyes shifted, shiftily back and forth.

Oz sat up, the room swam. Then it drunkenly forced him back against the pillows. Rum assaulted his nose. "Why are you transfusing me with rum?" Oz wanted to ask, but all he managed was a slurred, "Huh."

Devon sat down on the edge of the bed. "You needed it."

"What happened?" Oz repeated.

"Long version or short?" Devon stalled for time.

"Short. Option on long."

"Last night there was an enormous party. Someone did twelve kegstands and downed three bottles of tequila. Oh yeah and a whole tray of Jell-O shots."

Oz shrugged, "Don't want to hear about what you did last night, Dev..."

"Not me, Lil Bitch." Devon pointed at Oz's chest.

"Me?"

Devon exaggerated a few nods of his head, his hair bobbing. "And I think you also drank some guys Capri sun and a whole box of grapenuts. Anyway, the doc says the hangover could kill you. So we're keeping you drunk and weaning you off it. How do you feel?"

"Pretty drunk.." Oz did feel warm and kinda turned on. He was definitely still drunk. "I don't believe you."

"About last night?" Devon stood up, "Dude, if you don't believe me, look under the covers.

Oz lifted the covers. Oz dropped the covers. He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Whose idea was the kilt?"

"Yours."

"And the ribbon?"

"Mine." Devon snickered.