Note: Rated M. This fic is chock-full of adult situations, including but not limited to: cursing, alcohol, sex, a pair of broken Neiman Marcus strappy heels, and...well, there's some other stuff, but you get the idea. Read not, faint-of-heart or those-easily-offended. I've warned you. Also, I don't own the characters, nor do I own the series. This will be my only disclaimer. Repeated disclaimers at the beginning of every chapter of fanfics annoy the hell out of me.

I also plan to do this fic a couple of different ways. I want to use the same basic situation, but write it as a humorous fic, then I want to do a much more serious drama. So, first up...the humorous version. I'll post the serious version later. Also, this first chapter is fairly short. The next should be longer. Any feedback at all is appreciated.

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Ring, ring

Ring, ring

Ring, ri...

"Hello...? Wait...what's wrong? You're where? Christ..."

"Who's callin' so damned late?"

Irritated, Miyuki slapped her husband's questing hand away and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The sudden change in temperature from the warm blankets to the chilly floorboards made her grimace as her feet hit the floor. Ugh. Time to buy a rug.

Or a hammer. A big hammer. That phone had to go.

Until her very pleasant dreams were interrupted by the shrill ringing of the bedside phone, Miyuki was having a rare good night. Dinner was a success, the dishes were back in the appropriate cupboards, and the house was spotless. She finished her dissertation, rehearsed her presentation, picked out the perfect suit to wear to the interview on Friday...

True, the interview was a few days away, but she didn't get so far by being lazy, thank you very much.

Of course, she finally made it to bed after all of this and her husband had thankfully decided that he just wasn't in the mood. One look at her exhausted brown eyes told him all he needed to know. If he expected a little affection, then he could try petting the cat, because that was the closest he was getting to pussy that night.

Ooh-de-lally.

Cursing loudly when her toe came into sharp contact with a chest of drawers, Miyuki continued to talk to the person on the line while she fumbled in the darkness for some clothes. Rather, she tried to talk, but it was difficult to converse when the other party was either a) drunk, b) stoned, c) drunk and stoned, or d) Shizuma. And considering that it was indeed Shizuma on the line, choices a, b, and c didn't seem that far-fetched at all.

"No, stop. Slow down. Why the hell are you crying? No, I heard you. Yes, I know that bar. Wait. Are you laughingat me? So, I guess you don't really need me to pick you up then, right? Oh God, don't start crying again. Yes, I just need to get dressed and then..." Miyuki was glad that she decided to leave the lamp turned off when she left the bed. Her burning cheeks would have made her husband ask questions, and she certainly didn't want to divulge what Shizuma just suggested. "What? Of course I'll be alone. Why would I be...? Are you serious? How drunk are you? No, just give me half an hour. Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Fully awake after hearing Shizuma's husky voice ask a question like that, Miyuki glanced to the slumbering form of her husband, who had apparently decided his wife's lack of tears and/or screaming meant that the call wasn't an emergency. "Hey! Wake up!"

"Whatsamatter?"

Smiling, she replaced the phone on the charger and sat down to put on her shoes. There were times when it felt as if she hadn't really gained a husband so much as adopted a child. "I've got to pick up a friend before she wrecks that cute little Porsche of hers on the freeway. Then I'll have to take her home, and she lives over an hour from here, so..."

"Right...hour, Porsche, hour...zzzz..."

"I may be a while, so don't wait up."

"Ummkay..."

Confident in her ability to handle whatever situation she encountered, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

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Oh Nagisa...why did the fates tear us apart like this? Why did you leave me? Why has our love met yet another obstacle meant to...wait a tic...why am I in somebody's backseat? Did I get lucky? I'm still dressed...damn it. Who the hell...?

A bit surprised to find that she wasn't still weeping on the sidewalk in front of Fool Around Frankie's, Shizuma opened one bleary green eye and tried to figure out who exactly had saved her.

Groaning, she ran her fingers through her hair and tried to make herself a bit more presentable. Too many cosmopolitans and too many shots of tequila meant the graceful former Etoile wasn't quite as graceful when she lurched her way out of the popular bar. It wasn't her fault, though. If Nagisa hadn't abandoned her after finding out that the little whore Tamao was at a midnight book-signing just up the street, then she wouldn't have been forced to drink so much. And if she hadn't been forced to drink so much, then she wouldn't have gone outside to cry about the cruelty of the love-gods (because surely a love goddess would have been merciful and willing to listen to her plight), then she wouldn't have been forced to call...

"Miyuki!" This realization parted the alcohol-induced fog long enough for her to climb to a sitting position and wrap her arms around both the back of the driver's seat and her best friend's neck. "Oh, Miyuki! You came! It's been awful! I had to sit through three hours of karaoke and I actually had to pay for my first drink!"

Miyuki, well aware that Shizuma was accustomed to the gravity-defying powers of her magnificent cleavage obtaining free drinks, shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Hmm. It must have been awful for you."

"Oh, you just don't understand! I was there with Nagisa, then some fool came in and mentioned that Tamao slut..."

Miyuki couldn't help but smile. "Yes, she's quite the success, isn't she? A best-selling novelist in over thirteen countries, a movie deal in the works based on one of her books, interviews on all the talk shows..."

Shizuma's grip tightened on Miyuki's throat, but the risk of strangulation was so worth it. Whatever perfume the silver-haired temptress was wearing smelled really good, so Miyuki wasn't entirely opposed to having that slender arm draped around her shoulders. Yummy. "Even Oprah herself had to be put on her waiting list. She's certainly made a name for herself since school, hasn't she?"

"Fucking slut! I'll kill the bitch! And now she has my Nagisa! Oh, Nagisa....why? Why? Why?" Shizuma wailed of her misfortune until she collapsed in the backseat, lulled to sleep by the combination of alcohol and the rhythmic hum of the tires.

The spiteful part of Miyuki was dancing a jig at the fall of the mighty Shizuma, but the rest of her was considering pulling the car over and taking her poor, heartbroken friend into her arms and...

I swear to God, if it wasn't for this whole being-married-and-Shizuma-having-absolutely-no-interest-in-me thing, I would park this car right now and...

Her foot must have left the gas pedal at some point in her lusty musings, because a car horn blared right behind her and made her jump. Shaking her head to clear it of less-than-chaste images, she shifted gears and sped up the street to Shizuma's townhouse.