Disclaimers, etc, in part 1.

Watched From My Window

Part Three of the Foolish Games series.

The plot bunny is named Amz.

Oz looked up from his guitar. Knowing that if he didn't write down the chords as they came to him he'd have a great ending and completely forget the beginning. Stroking the neck, Oz enjoyed the guitar's smooth lines, it's soft curves and the pale wood that was it's body. It had a dark sound, a rich sound.

Women's laughter came through the open window with the breeze. Rich like chords of his guitar. Like his love for Willow.

Oz felt heat flood his face. Since when did he have such goofy, lovesick thoughts? Looking through the window at his lover and her best friend, the answer was easy. Durnit, he'd have to make sure they never left his mouth. Reputation and all.

Oz smiled.

Buffy laughed at something Willow said. Sitting on a blanket, having their makeshift afternoon picnic, they were a very pretty picture. Oz had a camera . . . somewhere. Oh well, he'd just have to memorize this moment forever. Willow looked up and caught him staring. She gave him a bright smile and waved. Following her gaze, Buffy waved to. Oz waved back.

Went back to his guitar. Suddenly he had the urge to pull a Jordan Catelano -- except the van was currently green and blue hardly something to mistake a song called "Red" for. Even better.

For a while he lived inside the music, turning the chords of "Red" into something else, into something he could own and hold and breathe. But he couldn't. He could hold this pale wooded guitar but he couldn't hold it's rich-dark melody, couldn't make it hold the notes he had so lovingly crafted. They faded on the breeze even as Willow and Buffy's musical voices drifted in.

They were louder now. Oz looked up. The girls were walking toward the apartment, arm in arm, Buffy carrying the basket, Willow with the red-checked blanket. He went to the kitchen to meet them.

"Hey, Oz," Buffy greeted him with a smile. "How's the music writing going?"

Oz walked past her and held Willow, gently, by her upper arms. For a moment he stared into her confused eyes then descended onto her parted lips.

"Well color me speechless," Buffy said wide-eyed. "Wish I could come home to a surprise like that."

But neither Willow or Oz was paying her any mind. Willow had released herself from Oz's delicate grasp and had wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself as close as physically possible.

Buffy figured it was time to go when her eyes started to smoke. "Yipe. Um, how 'bout I just leave the food here and get out of your way. I'll, uh, show myself out." If either of them heard her it didn't show.

Oz believed in reciprocation.