Slight songfic to 'Teenagers' by Camera Obscura.
A/U, Oneshot.
Duncan and Courtney meet through mutual aquaintances.
--
The idea of dancing in that horrible bridesmaid's dress, (In her mind, it was awful, but it wasn't that bad,)-- a knee length, pink that was a bit-too-bright, shift dress that did little to compliment the form of any of the bridesmaids-- her especially, who was wide, (too wide, she thought,) through the hips and narrow through the everything else-- was more than revolting.
The idea of dancing with anyone at the wedding, from her cousin's hideous friends from the groomsmen, decked out in cumberbunds and acne, was even more disgusting.
Sitting at her table-- she even had a name tag-- she sipped at her... one, two, three, eight, tenth narrow glass of strawberry champaigne. The dance floor was hurriedly filling with eager couples and children to do the 'Cha-Cha Slide.' The Live Band had taken a break and now they were doing lame group dances. Electric Slide, Cha-Cha Slide, Electric Boogaloo, too ridiculous to even thing of joining in.
The band came in after three songs-- properly freshened up. "Hey, everyone. This is a couple's song, so if you don't have a partner, get off the floor." The lead singer, a man named Trent Keaner, smiled, wryly wondering when he would finally get off the wedding circuit. "We'll have our female accompaniest coming up for this song, everyone welcome Gwen Allen."
The woman stepped up to the mic-- hair a platinum blonde and pinned back. It looked like she was uncomfortable. The drums and guitar-- the main singer playing, started up and she started crooning.
"For your birthday, she sent you a card.
She didn't sign her name; she gave an autograph.
Now she's trying to call your bluff . . .
Is she your true love?"
Courtney smiled in spite herself. Despite the warbling, nervous tone, she had a pretty singing voice. Enjoying a sip of her drink, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
Turning, she was nearly floored. Among the nerdy friends of the newly betrothed stood a pierced Adonis-- green hair clearly visible in what she thought was most likely a toned down hair style. She raised her brow, "Can I help you?"
"Would you like to dance, princess?" He smirked, as if he had been put on. The arch of his brow pushed up the scar that sat squarely above his left eyebrow.
"You know what? Sure." She said, unsure if it was the idea of being with the only sort of attractive person at the wedding, or the going on thirteen strawberry champaigne drinks.
She stood, unaware of the grin on his face.
"We knew the boy who went from Mod to Ted.
She asked matter of fact, 'Had he gone off his head?'
He was uncomplaining as a tree;
Not a thing like me."
"So, what's your name?" She asked, once they were on the dance floor.
"Duncan." He said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You are...? He asked her as they swayed. She wouldn't admit it outloud, but he was an excellent dancer-- it betrayed his appearance twenty fold.
"Courtney." She said, following his rather excellent lead. "How do you know the groom?"
"Oh, I'm a friend of the bride." He grinned, wide. "We were lab partners in college."
"You must be joking." She rolled her eyes, "Playing a trick on me, right?"
"No way. How do you know the groom?" He asked, though it already seemed as if he knew she didn't.
"He's my cousin's husband." She answered, bluntly. She was already tired of the man in front of her.
"Wow, bigamy is illegal, you know?"
She sighed.
"You're not a teenager.
So, don't act like one.
Sure; she is a heartbreaker.
Does she have one?
Is it down to me, down to me?
We both rarely speak."
"How old are you?" She asked, brow raised, unamused with his antics.
"Twenty five. How old are you, gorgeous?" He laughed.
"...Twenty five." She answered, rejectedly. She was hoping he was younger-- her cousin was twenty three. It may have been less aggrivating if he was younger.
"See? We have tons in common already." That infuriating smirk had yet to leave his face.
"You act like a teenager." She rolled her eyes. This song was taking forever.
"You got the lyrics wrong." He continued twirling her around his arm.
"I went for a stroll after dark,
I thought of you with her, while staring at the black
I didn't have you down for being easily led. . .
Or the girl well read."
She noticed how, during that part of the song, the blonde singer looked nervous again, staring at the guitarist/male singer. Cute.
"You're infuriating, Duncan." She said, at the inappropriate time of when he pulled her too close.
She stepped on his foot. He cringed, but still grinned. "You know you like me."
"I went for a stroll after dark,
I thought of you and her, I think I'm going mad.
Can you help me to see where I'm going wrong?
Help me finish this song."
She rolled her eyes, stepping back and curtly thanking him for the dance. She could feel his eyes on her... her ass, as she walked away.
--
She had grabbed her coat from the check, checked her purse to make sure nothing was missing, and left the hotel.
Hailing a cab, she was first frightened, then pissed to find that a hand had grabbed her arm. Until she realized it belonged to the pierced party guest.
"What?" She snapped, irritable and ready to go.
"You're staying at the Vedera hotel on main, right?" That's where most of the out of town guests were staying.
"...Yeah." She furrowed a brow.
"Great. We can share a cab." He looked kind of relieved: He had trouble flagging down cabs.
"Great." She rolled her eyes and got in. The cab driver eyed him warily as he helped the somewhat wobbly girl balance on her heels and even more so when he got in.
"Vedera Hotel, please." He told the driver, and leaned back for the ride.
--
Giving the cab driver a twenty-- a good ten dollars over the actual fare, he went around to open Courtney's door. Helping her out of the cab, he wasn't surprised when she sort of slumped forward.
"Take care of yer girlfriend, okay?" The driver commented.
"I'm.. 'm not his girlfrien'." Courtney slurred. It was as if the car ride had upped her drunkeness by thirty percent.
"Okay, ma'am. G'night."
Duncan, ever the gentlemen, nodded and took her inside.
--
Searching through her purse, he found her room key, clearly labeled '406.'
Up the elevator, he swiped the card and carried her in, laying her so that she wouldn't puke in her sleep and choke on it.
He wrote a note, put it on her dresser, and left.
--
Courtney groaned, rolling over. She felt like she had been hit by a truck.
Grabbing some advil and dry swallowing them. She squinted in the morning light.
Then she noticed the note. Picking it up, she read it.
Courtney--
You passed out during sex.
Courtney gasped.
Okay. That was a lie. You just passed out, so I brought you in.
I had to go through your bag for your key-- I took your gum, it was mint.
Mint's my favorite.
You owe me breakfast. I'm in room 215. Come see me, okay?
--Duncan.
Courtney couldn't help but be pissed. But she did owe him.
She guessed 11:45 wasn't bad for breakfast.
--
End! :D