A Drunk Night

by:NoLongerHidden

"I am living a nightmare, from which from time to time I wake in sleep." -Ursula K. Le Guin

He'd been on a weary edge the moment those dark eyes look a glance at him, her nimble fingers lazily moving the bottle of pure alcohol into his view; he'd followed her with his mind saying to get drunk, to have a night to forget: his heart, however, was screaming at him, tearing outward from his chest that this was the worst idea imaginable because Skye-

Stop. The word came so forcefully from the very depths of his mind that he actually paused in his steps, and heard the light ones of the only other occupant of the room stop too.

"Alright," she murmured carefully, as if wary of what he would do. This stunned him even more, for as long as he'd known her she'd never shown any emotion save for just now.

"Fine," he shot back gruffly, because letting out a deep sigh and closing his eyes, running a hand through his dark hair.

A hand stopped him and he almost flinched, but instead felt his palm being opened and the cool feel of glass met his senses. His eyes opened once again and say her; but she was closer this time, and folding a somehow full glass of alcohol into his hand.

There eyes met and there was a deep understanding there, so she took a quiet step back, giving him space. A rush of embarrassment and anger went through him. "May-" he started, but the quiet movement of her hand stopped him.

"I'm fine," she echoed his own words from earlier. "I'm perfectly fine," were the only other words that slipped from her lips before she brought her own glass to her lips.

He brought the glass in his own hand to his lips and the liquid burned purely down his throat, but it was relief. He took one sip after another, before giving up and downing the whole thing.

He felt her eyes on him when he slammed down the glass on the only table in the room, a deep mahogany nightstand. "More," he said simply.

She complied, pouring him more and more and more. He quickly lost track as the seconds passed into minutes and the minutes passed into hours, before eventually he could no longer form the words, but she looked as stoic as always and it briefly crossed his mind before his vision turned that she hadn't been drinking at all.

When he woke there was a cool cloth wiping on his forehead. He twitched against the feeling and his eyes flickered. A pounding headache met him and he let out the slightest groan.

"Hey," an all too familiar voice whispered. "I didn't even know my S.O. could get so drunk that he'd pass out. I thought only I could do that…"

He immediately stiffened. Skye? He tried to sit up but was unsuccessful, instead falling back onto the comfy piece of furniture. "Skye," he rasped. "What-"

"Shh," she said. "May brought you to my room last night; she said you'd drunk yourself unconscious."

"What-"

"I'm surprised she could even carry you," Skye continued, oblivious that he'd even talked. "It took me almost ten minutes to even get you onto the bed. You need to lose some weight."

As if subconsciously, he rasped, "It's all muscle."

"Sure it is," she murmured, tapping his arm. He felt the sudden loss of coolness as the cloth was taken from his forehead, but it was replaced quickly by a cool feeling on his lips. He drank that water as if he hadn't drank in hours – then again, maybe he hadn't.

"What time is it?" he managed, eyes cracking open as he tried to sit up. The gentle touch of her hands helped him lean against the headboard and he whispered a thanks before a white pill was shoved into his vision.

"Take this," she started, but he already had grabbed the water bottle from her hands and shoved the aspirin down his throat, swallowing it quickly. She handed him one more and he downed that too before looking at her for another one. She laughed. "Two will hold you for the next couple hours. That's all; you'll take more later."

It was then that he realized that she settled next to him on the bed with her legs crossed underneath her wearing nothing but a large tank top – and no sign of her wearing anything but underwear underneath.

He colored and she raised her eyebrows."What?"

"Nothing," he muttered, looking away.

She refused to be ignored, and brought her hand among his chin. It ghosted among his jaw line and he fought the shivers before, with lightning speed grasped her wrist. "Let go," he growled.

Her eyes narrowed and she held her hands up. "Fine," she said hotly. "I'll leave you alone."

His lips parted as if to protest, but she was already gone, the tell tale sign of the lock of a door sounding as she disappeared into her bathroom.

When she stepped out not eight minutes later, he was gone, the only sign he'd ever been there being the water bottle on her table – and all the aspirin gone.

The End...