AN: AU world, post-game where everyone lives in a new earth-like place.

Crash and Burn

...

Roxy had tried. She really had. It had been a whole six days, five hours and seven minutes since her last drink (give or take a day or two because seriously she hadn't been counting that closely). All that time, and the only thing the young woman could think about was how stupid she was for actually trying to sober up in the first place. Who the hell was she kidding?

A dark flush had already overtaken her cheeks and she hadn't even taken a sip yet. The first burning gulp was to forget that the heat she felt was from something far deeper than alcohol. Another few sips and Roxy had a perfect excuse. 'I'm totally hammered. I have no idea what I'm saying, what I'm doing. Just ignore me and put me to bed like a good girl…god I wanna die.' Three more minutes passed like seconds and a glance down at the bottle in her hand let the blond know she needed a refill. She lurched forward to get up off her bed and shuffled down into the kitchen where she kept her 'secret' stash of goodies. All the goodies. They were all hers. Roxy had even stopped pretending like she didn't drink herself to sleep, alone in her room. The first signs of alcoholism? More like the last signs of a dying star…not that she'd been all that bright to begin with.

Glancing around the kitchen she shared with her three besties—Jake, Janie and Dirk—Roxy could see that she was alone and probably would be for a while. The others had a way of knowing when she was spiraling downwards and tended to avoid her on those days. Some fucking friends.

Her hands fumbled as she reached for another large bottle from her special cabinet, the colorless liquid sloshed against the glass when she accidentally clanked it against the counter. "Shit!" she spat out, bracing against the edge of the countertop to catch her balance.

No, she thought to herself, she didn't have the right to be upset that her friends ignored her when she was like this. Could she blame them? Who would want to be around someone like her? Hell, if she was them, she would have dropped herself like a hot potato years ago, so how could she be upset, furious, devastated that not a single one of her friends cared enough about her to even take the bottles away anymore?

Roxy lifted the bottle up to the light to read the label. Not the most expensive brand, but it would do. As long as it got the job done, who cared if it was cheap? And it was vodka, her specialty. What good was a chumhandle if it didn't say everything about you in two words? She hastily unscrewed the cap and began sipping straight from the bottle, enjoying the artificial warmth that started at her chest and was rapidly spreading outwards.

There was something about alcohol-induced warmth that was comforting. Roxy couldn't quite explain it. She knew that it was fake—that with every sip she was sinking further into a cold oblivion—but even so she craved it. It was a favorite jacket in the wind and rain, like perhaps if she drank enough of that warmth into herself then she might be shielded from the constant torrential downpour of her loneliness.

She wasn't sure if it was working. She was still testing it out.

'I'm drunk,' she thought. 'I'm drunk now I think, but I still feel sober.'

There were two types of Roxy-tipsy: the giggly, happy-go-lucky kind, where she laughed way too much and made inappropriate jokes at her friends, and then this kind, where she just wanted to be left alone but not really. Because if someone would just find her, find her and wake her up, then the blond girl wouldn't have to pretend like she was okay anymore. Because she wasn't okay.

"Aaaand that's my cue to take another sip or five,"she mumbled, not really sure if she was speaking aloud or in her head anymore. It didn't really matter, she concluded, before making good on her statement and downing another quarter of the bottle. Boy, she was really making progress tonight….uh, today. It was…what? Three-thirty, tops?

"Talking to yourself now, Rox? Can't say I'm entirely surprised?" The words, echoed from across the kitchen, startled Roxy enough that she almost tripped, instead catching herself at the last minute and sluggishly turning towards the source of the voice.

"Dirk," she sighed. Of course it was Dirk. Wasn't it always? "You're here at three-thirty in the kitchen, right here with me." The words were half-sung, causing Dirk to quirk an eyebrow. Still, despite the oddity of it all, it was pretty standard for Roxy.

He glanced at his fingernails idly, "So it seems. I can assume you've hit the juice early today, then?" It was a question but not really, because as he spoke Roxy was taking another healthy swig from the bottle she had clutched. She laughed a bit.

"Hmmmm," It was drawn out too long, "It's not juice, you eggyhead, it's…it's…well, it's very tasty."

"Silly me." It was the deadpan that only Striders could achieve. Roxy wanted to laugh hysterically but she wasn't really sure why. It was obvious that Dirk had not come into the kitchen looking for her—of course not. Why would he have? Probably he was wishing he had never desperately needed that Orange Crush before so that he wouldn't be faced with a kitchenful of dead-drunk fuckup. The best thing she could do here was shut up and leave him alone so she didn't do something she would regret. She needed to just keep her trap shut for five fucking seconds while he rummaged in the fridge for whatever he needed and left. Five-seconds, Roxy, you can do that.

But he did look delectably sexy, as per usual. Maybe it was her drunk vision, but jeans and a bright orange t-shirt had never looked so good on anyone before. And of course this was Dirk, and that made it all the better (worse?) because he was her best friend and totally undeniably gay as all fuck. Like who the hell decided that? What a totally unfortunate happenstance. Jake didn't even know what he was missing out on because seriously why would anyone go get a girlfriend when they could have that? Then again, he was with Jane.

So her three best friends were too busy being in love with and dating each other to even care about little ol' Roxy anymore, and goddamn if it wasn't depressing.

Two more seconds. Probably.

'Jesus, Dirk! What was taking you so long to find in there that you had to bend over and show off your ass for ten freaking minutes while I have to sit here and watch and do absolutely nothing?' Even her thoughts weren't helping.

Dirk finally got his hands on what he was looking for and turned around, closing the refrigerator behind him with his foot in an action that Roxy found irresistible. His eyes were unreadable behind his sunglasses as he stared at her, staring at him. She wondered why he wore them. Was it to cover up his light-sensitive eyes? Or just for the bro-factor (that wasn't an actual thing, but that Dirk was constantly insisting was a thing)? Also, why didn't he want her? He couldn't have Jake, that much was painfully clear…was she not even good enough to consider for a goddamn pity fuck? Was she that repulsive to him?

The thought saddened her, but Roxy was mostly full of righteous rage. They'd been through everything together! When Jake was off gallivanting on adventures, who had been there to pick up the shattered pieces of Dirk's broken heart? Poor, pitiful, always single Roxy. She would show him, she thought. The blond girl would turn on the charm until Dirk didn't even know what had hit him! He would be begging her to give him the time of day when she was done.

She just…uh…needed a bit more liquid courage first. There. Roxy could hardly feel the initial burn anymore with each new drink. It was just the lovely warmth that made this stupid idea sound like a really smart one. Maybe.

A grimace made it to her face, and Dirk must have noticed, because he raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he casually sipped the orange Fanta he'd dug out earlier. What was the best way to go about this? Jane always told her to just be herself, but if that shit worked, Roxy'd have had her share since the beginning. Well, she thought, when in doubt just dive right in.

Roxy pursed her lips into a smile, "Hmm?" she drawled, "Why Mr. Strider, I must say! You seem to be ravishing me with your eyes tonight."

"Do I, now?" Dirk looked more amused than turned on. In fact, he looked more like he was laughing at her than anything. Well, Roxy thought to herself, she'd change that soon enough.

She allowed her lips to slide into a smirk as she sauntered towards him, "I don't know…" her voice was coy, "Why don't you come over here and we'll find out, sexypanties."

The eyebrow raise was more of an eye twitch now, "Panties? No self-respecting Strider would wear panties, Rox. What kind of operation are you trying to pull here?"

"Whoops!" she giggled. "I meant pants. Sexypants, Dirky. Because your pants are sexy. Sheriously, do you need help painting them on in the morning?"

"Uhhh…"

"Although if you wanted to try on some panties, I have several perfectly good pairs that would suit you…" Her smile widened, "Here, you can haveathis pair, even!" And without further ado, Roxy reached down and started to undo the side zipper on her skirt. Dirk's eyes widened comically.

"Whoa! Hold it, Lalonde." His hands jumped out to stop hers from going any further, "Let's just think about this for a second. You, uh…well I think you've had enough of the good stuff for one night."

A pout took over her face, "Enough?" she echoed, "I have. I have had enough of some of it, but not all of it. Or more that I've had enough of this and not nearly even close to enough of that." She pointed an unsteady hand at the bottle, before picking it back up. Roxy now had Dirk almost leaning up against the back of the refrigerator, with herself in-between him and the kitchenette island. Her eyes hardened infinitesimally, "What?" she whispered, leaning in, "Roxy's had enough? It's time for her to be put to bed, like last night or last week? Issat it?"

In his haste to lean away from his wayward friend Dirk's shades had gone askew on his face, revealing soft orange irises that shone with trepidation. "You know, right now, that may not be such a bad suggestion. One might even say that that is the most sensible course of action right now," he stated. His calm demeanor was still there, but Roxy knew Dirk. He was cracking. Any minute now. Oh god, why was she forcing herself on him like this, she was disgusting…

The tipsy blond blew gently into her friend's ear and whispered, "I wouldn't say that. I would say that sleep is completely the opposite of what I wanna be doing."

Struggling desperately to refrain from shoving the inebriated Roxy off of him, Dirk felt a shiver of uncomfortable energy travel up his whole body. Roxy, clearly misinterpreting, began to kiss his neck, her hips leaning into his awkwardly. She had him pinned against the refrigerator now, and although the older male could easily remove her, he was hesitant to hurt her in any way.

Just ignore it, Dirk. She doesn't know what she's doing. She's fragile right now. Just be gentle with her. Oh, god…this was so wrong! "What do you want to be doing, then?" Dirk was mortified to find that his voice broke.

This had been a stupid idea, Roxy thought to herself. What were you thinking, Roxy, how could you let this get out of hand—let yourself get out of hand? There's no way he won't hate you after the way you decided to make a complete ass of yourself. Oh, fuck. Fuck.

Roxy let out a deep sigh against his neck. It was wet, full of wanting and tears and pain, and Dirk was yet again struck with the desire to help his best friend, but he had no idea what was best, so he stayed put. She breathed deeply, rested on his chest, her thin arms wrapped feebly around his neck. "I want you," she whispered. And then she began to cry.

Dirk could do nothing but clench his jaw and stare blankly down the hallway as Roxy made a damp mess of herself against him. Her body curled against his in an entirely different way that it had before, and through his relief Dirk could still feel the hopelessness that radiated from her. His arms, once limp at his sides, curved upwards to embrace her tightly.

"W-why d-don't you want me...?" she cried out, "What m-makes me so p-pitiful that I'm n-not even worth a one-night-stand?"

He shooshed her, taking the bottle from her fingers and placing it gingerly on the counter. She'd calmed down a bit, her eyes rimmed a deep red and her eyes lowered in shame. Sighing lightly, Dirk gently pried Roxy off his chest and put a hand on each of her shoulders.

"Hey." He called softly, "Hey. Look at me."

Her reluctant gaze met his. "I love you, Roxy," Dirk stated, "You're my best friend."

He struggled to keep a straight face when her own expression crumpled "That's not what I mean, Dirk. It's not what I—"

"I know." He smoothed her hair back into place, fingers tracing the honey-blonde strands to where they curved around her ears. "Now let's get you to bed."

I hate myself.

Well, thanks for reading! This was supposed to be a fill for a kmeme prompt, but it might be too heavy for what the OP wanted...oh well, I tried!

I am unapologetic for all this drama. As someone who has spent a lot of time around another person with this kind of problem, I can vouch for Roxy's character's validity. People who drink like that are self-destructive, and people who are self-destructive have those kinds of thoughts. I only hope I conveyed them in a convincing enough manner! :)