A/N: Got a little drunk and made a Chaubrey oneshot. More like a halfshot actually. That I didn't edit.
"Come on, Bree," Stacie whined from the foot of Aubrey's bed, where she lounged as gracefully and lazily as a cat. "You haven't been out in ages."
"I'm taking eighteen credits, Stace," Aubrey replied tiredly. They had this argument weekly, it seemed. "I'm too busy for parties."
"It is winter break," Stacie shot back. "We are between semesters. You aren't taking any credits."
Aubrey rolled her eyes but didn't bother arguing that she already had her materials for the spring semester and could therefore get a head start. Such reasoning was lost on Stacie.
"It's just a Christmas party," Stacie said. "Some twinkling lights, a few drinks, a little festive frivolity. Come with me, unwind a little."
"Hmm."
"Do you see me over here not trying to convince you to get laid?"
There was something to be said for that, certainly, Aubrey thought. Stacie seemed to think getting laid could solve all sorts of problems, Aubrey's stress level among them, but Aubrey tended to think it would do just the opposite.
"I don't know how you pull a 4.0 with the way you party all the time," Aubrey said.
"I know how to budget my time," Stacie replied airily. "And I know how to relax and recharge."
Aubrey did not find parties relaxing. She generally needed to relax and recharge after expending the energy required to spend time in a room full of strangers.
"I have laundry and-"
"I have to leave for home in a few days, and you can do all the laundry you want while I'm gone," Stacie said. "Laundry, cleaning, reading ahead for classes that haven't even started yet, whatever you want. Just please hang out with me tonight. You don't even have to dress up."
Aubrey sighed. She knew Stacie would drag her around the party for an hour or so, introducing her to a dozen or so people, before ultimately heading off to claim whatever guy she set her sights on. At which point Aubrey could quietly slip out and return to their dorm room, then slip into her PJs and get a good night's sleep.
She figured a few hours of her time to appease her best friend wasn't too much to ask.
Maybe it would even be, as Stacie promised, fun.
It was not fun. Half the crowd was, impressively, already drunk when Aubrey and Stacie arrived a little after nine. Stacie fetched two solo cups of well-liquored eggnog from the kitchen, handed one to Aubrey, and then set about forcing Aubrey to 'meet and mingle.'
The entire process was hard work for her; she didn't have Stacie's knack for small talk and she'd never outgrown her shy, nervous phase. She was ever so relieved when Stacie excused herself to 'get all up on' the 'sexy meat stack' she'd picked out.
"Have fun," Aubrey said.
"Oh, I will," Stacie assured her.
Aubrey watched her go. She watched her glide effortlessly through the crowd, even avoiding the wild gesturing of a clearly drunken frat boy as she went. The frat boy, Aubrey noted, was enthusiastically showing off his crotch to his buddies.
More specifically, she quickly realized, he was showing off his belt buckle, which had a sprig of mistletoe affixed to it. What a douche. Just looking at him made Aubrey feel gross. He was, admittedly, a very poor example of a man, but his antics made her wonder what anyone found attractive about any of them.
No matter. She could be super gay alone in her room as easily as she could be super gay alone in a room full of wasted college students, so she made her way to the kitchen where she poured out what was left of her drink and carefully placed the empty cup atop the already overflowing trash can. On her way to the door, she took a quick look around to be completely sure Stacie wouldn't see her leave, and then abruptly changed course when she saw that Mistle-douche had apparently decided it was time to put his disgusting plan into effect.
Aubrey processed the scene in the few seconds it took her to cross the room: the jerkwad was laughing as he tugged on a girl's arm, clearly trying to cajole her. She was half smiling the way one does when they'd like to just get the hell out of there without a fuss, waving her free hand between them in a shooing motion.
Mistle-douche caught that arm as well and, still laughing like he thought this was all in good fun, pulled her to his chest. She pushed away, creating a gap, just as Aubrey reached them.
"Come on, babe," he said. "It's, like, tradition."
Aubrey's hands moved before her brain could catch up with her body. She latched onto his elbow with one hand, pressing her thumb into the pressure point until he loosened his grip, and then she used her other hand to bend his hand backward until he cried out in pain and started using his free hand to try to pry her fingers off. She kept squeezing and bending until he went down on one knee.
"I would explain to you exactly why your behavior is disgusting and incredibly out of line, but something tells me you won't understand it, anyway," she said, leaning down a bit to make sure he heard her. "So I'll just say that if you tried treating women with a little respect, you might find yourself not having to resort to crude tricks in order to get someone to touch your pathetic little garbage dick."
She released her grip and stood up again, relishing that split second of feeling smugly accomplished, before she realized the entire party had basically stopped around her and everyone was staring, even the girl she'd just 'rescued.'
The girl who was, Aubrey finally noticed, incredibly gorgeous. Mistle-douche had good taste, at least. Her hair was red and fell in perfect waves. He eyes were big and blue and wide in shock. He mouth was hanging open dumbly, and she slowly raised a hand to cover it. In the time it took her to do so, all the blood in Aubrey's body rushed straight into her face.
She'd made a complete spectacle of herself in front of half a hundred strangers, maybe more, and as if that wasn't bad enough the prettiest woman she'd even seen had had a front row seat.
"Shit," Aubrey said. "Sorry."
Then she ran for the door.
"Stupid stupid stupid," she muttered to herself as she power walked down the sidewalk and back toward campus. Why had she gotten involved? If she'd just left, the girl would probably have just yanked her hands free, called the guy a prick, and walked away. Aubrey had zero reason to think the girl needed her help. She could probably take care of herself just fine. She probably had friends who would have helped her out if need be, and they'd have known when and if there was a need at all.
But no, Aubrey had to jump in like some would-be hero swooping in to rescue the damsel in distress.
Oh god, had she even been in distress at all? What if she knew him, liked him, what if it was all in fun-
"Hey, wait up!"
Aubrey ignored the shout from behind her. Stacie was the only person she'd even consider talking to at the moment, and that wasn't Stacie's voice, so she just kept walking.
"Can you just, like, slow down a little?"
The answer was that no, Aubrey could not slow down. Not even a little.
"Look, I am totally willing to risk an arm twisting. Don't make me grab you."
Aubrey stopped and turned on her heel so quickly that her pursuer nearly ran into her.
It was the redhead with the big blue eyes. Ugh.
"Hi, I'm Chloe," she said, reaching out with her right hand.
Aubrey shook it mindlessly, staring in a manner that was probably overly intense. "Aubrey," she said quietly. "I apologize, I-"
"Noooo," Chloe said. "None of that bullshit. That was awesome. You were awesome."
"I was - something, I suppose." Aubrey couldn't help but think that she'd be able to concentrate on forming words a whole lot better if Chloe would stop looking at her. She was too pretty and too much of a surprise and Aubrey's face still held the majority of her blood.
"Well, thanks," Chloe said. "For the help. He was so gross, and everyone else was just watching, and-"
"Happy to, any time," Aubrey said. "I mean, not like - I don't want -"
Chloe giggled and looked down, drawing Aubrey's eyes with her, until they were both looking at the item in Chloe's left hand.
It was a belt with a sprig of mistletoe attached to the buckle.
"What the hell," Aubrey said.
"Yeah, I might've sort of," Chloe said, waving the belt around a bit, "slapped him and made him give me his belt before I came after you."
"Why?"
Chloe held the belt higher, so it was almost over their heads, and said, "I thought maybe I'd" before trailing off and chuckling nervously. Then she tossed the belt into some nearby bushes and wiped her hand on her skirt. "Maybe let's pretend that was never here."
"Deal," Aubrey said. She couldn't quite wrap her mind around what was happening.
"I mean yeah, OK, not my best move ever," Chloe said, beginning to ramble. "You probably have somewhere better to be, and you're probably not even into girls, anyway, so I'll just, like, go now. Before I make this worse. Sorry-"
"No, I don't," Aubrey said. She felt like her blood had more or less all gone back to where it should be instead of pooling in her face, and even though her heart was kind of pounding she found she was able to string together a whole sentence. "I don't have anywhere to be. Not better than here."
"Good," Chloe said.
"And I actually prefer women," Aubrey said, "Exclusively." She bundled up her courage and brought her hands up to waist height, palms up; not grabbing, but leaving it up to Chloe.
"Even better," Chloe said. She grinned and slipped her hands into Aubrey's. "There's a coffee shop nearby, open late. Perhaps you'd let me buy you a cup?"
"Grindhouse?" Aubrey asked.
"That's the one."
"I'd like that," Aubrey said. She was grinning, too, as they started off down the street.
She'd been to Grindhouse just that morning.
She knew they had a bunch of mistletoe hanging in the doorway.
A/N: Might be sorry tomorrow, but not right now