"Schmidt?" Nick turns to see a Schmidt-shaped object shuffling towards the door. "Schmidt don't you dare leave me to take care of this on my own!"

The fast speech and the slight growl in Nick's voice have no impact and all he hears is the front door slamming and Schmidt's feet running towards the lift.

"Winston?"

"Gotta dash," comes a muffled response as Winston tugs on a jacket, grabs his phone and makes for the door but this time Nick is ready and stands in front of the door, facing the wood with his arms spread as far as they can go. "Nick, stop star-fishing me."

Nick decides that this is his only option so remains in the position he is, stretching his arms out even wider and making his legs match the movement. There is no way he's dealing with this on his own. "You're staying here, Winston. Yes, you are."

"Nick, without infringing on our friendship, I would delicately like to point out that remaining in that position opens you to one very painful point of compromise and just so you know, I will use it."

It takes Nick three seconds to realise what Winston means and quickly clamps his legs together, leaving his arms across the door. "You're still not leaving," Nick informs Winston but Winston has a few more tricks up his sleeves and a few sharp pokes in Nick's ribs loosen him up enough for Winston to slip out the door and get in the lift before Nick has time to recover.

Groaning, Nick slips to the floor and lets his head lull forwards so his chin rests on his chest. "What did I do in this life to deserve this?" he mumbles to himself, "So I hate a few people but this? I don't deserve this!"

His whisper becomes more vocal and it stirs the previously sleeping being on his bed. "Niiiiiiiick?"

Nick doesn't move at first and then attempts to crawl, ever so slowly, towards Schmidt's room. "You can do this Nick," he whispers to himself, placing each palm down with quiet caution. "You have to do this."

He doesn't do it. At least not before a towering shadow engulfs him and he's suddenly face to face with another crawling being. A crawling being with two bright blue eyes. "Are you being a cat?" Her look is quizzical but as she attempts to study his face, her eyes lose focus.

"Are you being a cat Jess?" Nick asks, glancing over her head at the distance to Schmidt's room. He could still make it.

"No," she says, stumbling to her feet. "Where is Schmidt?"

"I don't know, Jess. Hey, here's an idea – I'll go find him and you just stay here." Perfect, Nick grins and gets to his feet, diving towards the door but Jess second guesses him and latches onto his arm before his other hand reaches the handle. He sighs; like it or lump it, tonight he's the one on drunk-Jess duty.

"Don't leave meeee," she slurs, gripping on tighter to his arm and resting her head on the top of his arm. "Winston always leaves me; I don't want to be left in the loft Nick."

In between her tight, vice-like grip on his arm and the memories of the last time they left her alone in the loft, Nick sighs and realises there's no way he can get out of this.

"Why am I always on Jess duty?" he asks himself more than anyone as he slips an arm around the base of her back and directs her to the couch. He deposits her down and she giggles she the back of her head hits the top soft material beneath, her arms still entangled with his which results in pulling Nick down onto the sofa too.

"Because you're strong Nick Miller," she informs him, without pausing between the strong and the Nick making it sound like he's actually called strong Nick Miller. There are worst things to be called, he muses. "And you do great turtle faces which is really handy."

"How on Earth did you get this drunk Jess?" Nick sighs again but there's a fond smile forming at the corners of his mouth. Jess is too busy putting the heels of her hands in her eyes to notice. All he manages to decipher is Cece, shots and strip ping pong. That explains why her skirt's on back to front, then. "Want some water?"

Jess shakes her head softly and her hair begins to fall out of the poorly constructed bun she's shoved her hair into. "No, I don't want your daughter," she murmurs as she tucks her legs up under her body and her head manages to find its way to his lap. He's about to protest but she stills and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and the words Nick planned to say seem to disappear from his mind.

He tries to exhale and air his annoyance but as the breath leaves his mouth it sounds more like a contented sigh. He reaches for the remote and flicks from channel to channel, feeling her head shake on his thighs until she finds something she's happy to watch. Thankfully it's not Fame.

It's a documentary on penguins and Nick decides he can stomach this for the next twenty minutes because he knows from (too much) experience that Jess doesn't take too long to crash out completely. As the TV soothes the two of them into a state of calm as they watch the birds glide over the ice and enter pools of water with a plop, Nick finds his fingers idly stroking Jess' hair down her head and over the top of her shoulder. He can't see her head from the way she's lying on his lap and facing the TV but she makes no effort to stop his ministrations.

"Jess?" he voices quietly, wondering if the time has come again for him to carry her to bed. Which, Nick would have you know, is harder than it looks: Jess is nothing if a wriggler. There's no reply and he steels himself ready for the struggle when she shifts her head around on his lap causing a certain amount of friction – an action that's both welcomed and unwanted simultaneously.

"I want a pet penguin," she informs Nick softly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Called Sid."

"Called Sid?" Nick chuckles and he realises that in the last few minutes he's stopped stroking her hair and instead his hand has been resting comfortably in the crook of her neck. He hesitates moving it but an itch on his face a few minutes later makes the decision for him and he can tell from the constant, regular breathing from Jess that she's finally crashed. Ignoring his (questionable) desire to place his hand back there and with a lot of effort he hoists Jess into his arms and carries her in an awkward fashion to her room. He's just finishes lowering her to the mattress and is making for the door when a mumble emerges from a face-down Jess.

He doesn't catch what she's said so he perches on the side of her bed in an attempt to hear her but that movement alone seems to settle her. He knows the stick he's going to get for being roped into babysitting her all night but since the other two weren't manly enough to stick it out, Nick gets up, closes the door and sits back down on her bed. What they don't know won't hurt them. And what they do know? That it's up to one of them to be on Jess-duty next time. Ha.

As she hums what sounds like a Christmas carol under her breath, Nick finds his eyes starting to tire and before he knows it, he's laying fast asleep flat on his back and dreaming of tinsel and presents.

He wakes up long before Jess does and takes this opportunity to sneak back into his own bed (mostly because he can't stand hearing her alarm of Walking on Sunshine through his wall let alone hearing it next to his head.) But before he leaves, he takes a longer than necessary look at her all curled up and out for the count and a smile creeps onto his face without his knowing. Yeah, she's a drunken pain in the ass but his life is definitely better for having her in it.

He sneaks into his own bed without Schmidt or Winston realising, if they're even home yet and takes copious amounts of delight in making a mental note to remind the two of them that he's done his Jess duty for this month; it's their turn next.

But as he drifts back to sleep in the comfort of his own bed, Nick finds himself realising that he wouldn't mind too much being on Jess duty again. Not that he's ever going to tell Winston or Schmidt that.