A/N- I'm not even sorry for this. This is a oneshot for now, but I'm rather enamored of this AU, so I might turn it into a vignette series. We'll see how it goes.
Minerva tapped her foot impatiently, a small part of her at the back of her mind appreciating the sharp sound her stylish after-work shoes made on the pavement, as she looked down at the sad, sad specimen on the ground in front of her. "Oh really now," she drawled, one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow rising dubiously towards her hairline.
The man nodded. "Really."
"So you mean to tell me that you ended up passed out in a public street, naked from the waist down, with genitalia drawn all over your face and arms in what appears to be—" She raised her flashlight a little higher to get a better angle. "—cherry syrup? And you managed all of that… while completely sober?"
He made an attempt to get to his feet, which failed miserably because he clearly needed both hands for balance and they were currently occupied with covering his junk. She supposed it was good that he was at least aware enough for some attempt at modesty now that he was conscious— she'd come across plenty of drunkards in her career who weren't so courteous.
"Well," he said, flashing her a lopsided grin, "maybe not exactly?"
"That's what I thought," she replied. "How much have you had?"
He tilted his head to one side, which caused his entire body to sway a little in that direction. "Uhhh… two?"
"Shots?"
"Bottles of Zima," he said, a grin lighting up his face. "It's really tasty, you know that?"
Minerva blinked. Was this… was this guy seriously implying that two glasses of chick beer was enough to put him down for the count? Good lord… It was actually a shame, because he was kind of cute. She'd always had a thing for guys with stubble. But the sloppily-drawn syrup penises rather spoiled the effect.
"What's your name, sir?" she asked.
"Alors. Max Alors," he said, in what he clearly thought was a James Bond impression, and promptly burst out in a fit of giggles at his own "joke."
Minerva barely avoided rolling her eyes. "Alright, Mr. Alors. I'm off-duty for the night, so just this once, I'm going to look the other way and not arrest you for public indecency. Just go home. Do not drive. Do not drink anymore tonight. Call yourself a taxi or an Uber. And for heaven's sake, get some better drinking buddies, because the ones you have clearly are not looking out for your best interests."
She turned away, satisfied with having done her pro bono work for the evening, but he called after her, and she turned around to see that he'd managed to stand up, hands still cupped in front of his crotch.
"Um… Officer? I don't… uh, I can't call a cab. I don't have a phone. Or money. Or pants."
Minerva closed her eyes and sucked a deep breath in through her nose. God save her from the blackout drinkers of the world…
"Fine. I have a shock blanket you can use for modesty," she said tiredly, "and I suppose I can give you a lift to wherever you're sleeping tonight."
His expression flip-flopped from distress to delight in an instant. "Oh man, thanks, I'm really gonna owe you one," he announced, staggering after her in a series of giddy parabolas between the walls of the alley where she'd found him.
She shook her head in resignation and turned again to walk back to the mouth of the alley ahead of him. "But if you throw up in my squad car, Mr. Alors," she warned over her shoulder. "I promise you you will be walking home."
Max shot her a wobbly thumbs-up and grinned, inadvertently flashing his penis in the process.
