I started getting more into EAH lately, and so, I started to really ship Sparchess. Like, really ship Sparchess. (and also Apple/Darling but that's another story noIhaven'tbeenprocrastinatingbywritingapplingficstoo). So, basically, I just knew I had to write an aged-up summer au, modern day of course, for the two of them. But, on to warnings: there is drinking, (a lot of it) insinuations, LOTS of bad language (I aged these characters up, so they're all legal drinking age, at least twenty-one and can therefore cuss by default I suppose) and also some sort of crack ships? There are brief, brief mentions of Raven/Apple, Bunny/Faybelle, Daring/Apple (all as past-tense, broken up pairs) and mentions of Faybelle/Poppy, Raven/Dexter, Daring/Lizzie, Apple/Darling, Bunny/Alistair, Briar/Hopper, and obviously Sparrow/Duchess. I mean, why else would this be a Sparchess fic. But it's mainly Sparchess oriented and all the other pairings only show up in like a few sentences, so you can skip over them, no biggie.
(also forgive me I don't know the logistics of working in retail)
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Duchess Swan values punctuality, decorum, and decency. In her eyes, Sparrow Hood believes in tardiness, impropriety, and debauchery. Though, perhaps, she only considers this because she is now forced to work in his general vicinity. And play nice.
"Yo, Duchess. Whatdya think about Guitar Hero?" Sparrow asks, already (childishly) playing around with the demo version of the aforementioned video game and screeching out guitar noises with his mouth in a way that was neither dignified or appealing.
Duchess wrinkles her nose. "I've never played." Silently, she adds that now she never intends to. Standing behind the cash register/help desk of the electronics section of Target is not the way to spend her summer vacation, but it's the only job she was able to get, and it was still part-time considering the only other job she had was as a teaching assistant in her favorite ballet studio, and as all college students, she has textbooks to buy.
"Bummer," Sparrow responds, setting the plastic guitar replica in its placeholder. "You should try it. One of the best video games ever."
"Sounds enchanting," Duchess says, not bothering to hide the way sarcasm coats her words, because obviously pretending to play a guitar equaled a spot in a fictional or perhaps simply hypothetical 'best video games ever' list.
Sparrow studies Duchess and she pretends not to notice, instead smoothing down the front of the horrible red collared Target standard shirt, and the equally hideous khaki pants. Truly, she can't wait until she can get changed into a leotard and a tutu and spend her evening dancing, but her Target shift doesn't end until two o' clock, and it's barely nine in the morning, so. She has no choice but to put up with her coworker and she barely even knows him besides the fact that she thinks his goatee is stupid and the earring in his ear makes him look like a punk.
"Your hair's a weird color," Sparrow notices.
Duchess grits her teeth and resolves that she won't loose her job on her very first day, not to mention that her hair is not a weird color and that the mixture of hues were very fashionable. "You should stock the shelves with more copies of Black Ops, don't you think?"
"I'm pretty sure we have enough," Sparrow says. "Why? You tryin' to get rid of me?"
That's the idea. "Of course not," Duchess lies, smoothly, pasting a fake wide smile on her face. "I just think it's counterproductive, to have two of us up by the front all the time. Maybe you should mill around and help the customers." And leave me alone.
"There's not really any customers around here." Sparrow settles himself comfortably against the counter. "So what are you up to lately?"
Duchess eyes him and can't decide if he's being friendly or simply being annoying, but one thing is certain: they're not friends, and he's no right to chitchat like they are. "Nothing that concerns you."
"Okay, ouch. I'm going pretend you didn't say that because I'm a very relaxed person and I'm also very forgiving."
"Right." Duchess rolls her eyes and checks her manicure for what feels like the hundredth time in an hour, having nobody to deal with and subpar company to converse with.
"Got plans later?" Sparrow leans closer to Duchess, and she comes to the conclusion that the fedora on his head is tacky and that redheaded boys are not her type.
"Not that it's your business, but I do," Duchess stiffly replies.
"Oh, yeah. I can tell. Someone named Justine is blowing up your phone with lots of text messages."
Duchess's eyes shoot open wide with attention. "What? How do you know that?"
"I've got your phone, duh." Sparrow waves Duchess's familiar lavender phone case in the air, a tiny swan charm dangling from its braided lanyard of black and white twine, and he makes a big show of unlocking it. "This phone password's really predictable, you know that? Who's this Daring guy? Why do you have a photo album of his pictures?"
"Give me that!" Angrily, Duchess makes a swipe for her phone, but Sparrow keeps it infuriatingly out of her reach. "That is notfunny, give it back!"
"I would, Princess- but you're too slow," Sparrow taunts, letting Duchess grab at his arms in an attempt to retrieve her stolen item, and she huffs, boiling with rage, her ponytail threatening to slip out of its holder with all the inhibited movement, which is bad news for a dancer ordinarily anyway.
"Would you just-!" Upset, Duchess hops on her tiptoes and manages to knock over his hideous hat, but he ducks out of her reach and hides behind the Guitar Hero demo game.
"Play ya for it," Sparrow offers, holding out the phone on his palm.
"I will not," Duchess snaps, "Because we are on the job."
"There's no one here," Sparrow shrugs, picking up his fallen fedora and putting it back on his head.
"Our manager is here," Duchess says, eyebrows raised high in annoyance. "I refuse to take any part in your...slacking. You may think that playing around is fine and dandy but I am a professional employee and I demand that you return my phone."
"Yeesh, Princess, that hurts. Do you kiss your boyfriend Daring with that mouth?" Sparrow grins but obligatorily places Duchess's phone onto the countertop by the register.
Duchess's cheeks color pink and it's on the tip of her tongue to say that he's not her boyfriend but she also likes that someonethinks he is so she only replies, "I don't need to tell you anything," and she scoops up her phone and tucks it into her back pocket, also idly wondering how Sparrow got her phone in the first place but chalking it up to the fact that he must be an experienced criminal because all boys who wear earrings must be.
"Alright, if you say so. Who's that girl that's always in your selfies? She's hot."
Duchess frowns, because Lizzie Hearts is the farthest from hot that there is. Also, Lizzie only ends up in her selfies (the selfies premeditated and sent to Daring!) because they're roommates and she's always loitering in the background. Not to mention bathroom selfies are so last year and she needs to seem trendy, hence why she'll never go into the only place Lizzie won't venture into when Duchess is in there. But, back to Lizzie- not hot. She had the oddest birthmark around her eye in the shape of a heart which makes her look weird, in Duchess's opinion, but definitely not hot.
"My roommate," Duchess answers, because that's a harmless question but she's also hoping that it'll shut up Sparrow. "If you don't mind, maybe you could restock on Black Ops."
"I'm pretty sure that there's still enough copies of Black Ops, Princess."
Through gritted teeth, Duchess manages, "Then maybe we can switch positions. You man the register, I'll finish restocking the shelves."
"If it makes you happy, your highness." Sparrow pulls off his hat and takes a sweeping bow. Duchess wonders if she can get fired for chucking a copy of Black Ops at his stupid head.
That's how Duchess Swan starts to resent Target and it's large red sign and the obnoxious plaster dog with the target mark around its eye because then that reminds her of Lizzie's birthmark and by extension Sparrow Hood and honestly Target in general has never been her favorite store.
Duchess still fumes as she goes to the dance studio, ballet shoes hitting the pavement with more force than necessary.
"Oh, you're here!" Justine Dancer is always super sweet and kind and has eleven sisters which must be a drag, but she always takes the time to compliment Duchess and give her big smiles which Duchess doesn't really appreciate.
"On time," Duchess sniffs, crossing her arms lest Justine hint that she'd been expectantly awaiting Duchess to arrive because she was late.
"Of course, the kids have been waiting for you!" Justine smiles.
Duchess's other part-time job is teaching ballet to five-year-olds, and while she's never liked children, she has to admit that this job is much preferable to the Target one. That doesn't mean that it's a walk in the park, though- she'll always have at least one kid who'll wet their pants and one who'll cry for their mommy and at least one or two little boys that have little sisters in the class as well who've been signed up by parents that don't give a fuck about gender roles but then those little boys get whiny and huffy and don't understand why they have to dance with girls and so Duchess then always has a momentary lapse in judgement where she wishes that Justine were the main instructor and not the teaching assistant.
Then, the actual teaching. Kids don't remember terms like pointe or pirouette or even understand what second position is, and Duchess physically grimaces when she has to tell them, "Stick out your toes. Point your toes. No, not like that-"
And Justine has to be lovingly patient because she's that much of a nice person and she'll offer helpful little suggestions and actually remember the names of those dumb kids. "Wow, Lisa, did you remember that from last week? You're so smart! Here, Emily, honey, you need to hold your arm out like this!"
It's exhausting. Were Duchess to think like Justine, she'd probably call it rewarding. But, Duchess loves dancing. She does. It's her favorite pastime. Teaching other people dancing, however...she's very happy when her phone goes off in a series of chimes marking the end of forty-five minutes and then, then Duchess can escape and go home to her apartment, maybe making a detour beforehand to visit her best friend Faybelle.
Faybelle works at a coffee shop named Hocus Latte and before the day is done she'll usually be scowling at all the customers. But that's Faybelle.
"Finally," Faybelle gripes when she sees Duchess walk around the corner, changed into her street clothes and holding her ballet flats in her hand. "I thought you were dead or something." Uncrossing her arms and straightening from her position where she'd been leaning against the wall outside the coffee shop, Faybelle then offers Duchess a capped coffee cup.
"White chocolate iced cappuccino?" Duchess questions, taking the cup.
"Like you even have to ask," Faybelle scoffs, and the two set off together towards their apartment building. If only Duchess would be able to room with her friend- but Faybelle has another roommate already, some girl she's been stringing along but isn't actually in a relationship with. Faybelle, probably thinking the same thing, is already making faces as their building looms into sight.
"Same time tomorrow?" Duchess wishes that she could spend more time with her best friend, but she knows that she has laundry to do and Faybelle probably already has plans.
"Nah. I'm getting out early so I'll just walk to the studio instead." Squinting and fixing the employee-standard Hocus Latte brand baseball cap on her head, Faybelle pushes open the door to the apartment lobby. "Am I going to see you at Briar Beauty's party tonight?"
"Briar's having another party?" Duchess echoes, disappointed. "No, I've got laundry to do, and a dance routine to go over, not to mention a Target shift that starts at eight so I can't be hungover."
Faybelle shrugs. "Whatever. I go in at seven, and I'm still going to Briar's party. And I'm going to be hungover tomorrow. That's a given."
Duchess purses her lips and pushes the elevator button. "Is Bunny going with you?"
Bunny, unfortunately named, was Faybelle's current fling and doubled as a roommate. At the sound of her name, Faybelle groans and stomps into the elevator with heavy steps of her combat boots.
"I hate her," she decides, as the elevator doors close. "I hate her. I'm pretty sure she got back together with her dumb boyfriendAlistair."
"Oh," Duchess responds, feeling slighted for having brought it up. "I didn't know."
Faybelle bitterly laughs. "Yeah, well, neither did I. Until last night when she didn't even bother trying to hide the eighty-seven text messages she sent him."
Duchess sighs just as the elevator doors open to their floor. "Do you have a designated driver, at least?"
"I can drive myself. Relax." Faybelle steps out first and frowns all the way to her door. "I really don't want to even see her right now."
"Faybelle," Duchess says, suddenly alarmed, "You're not going to drive yourself!"
"Then come with me," Faybelle replies, like it's that simple. "Forget your laundry and whatever you were talking about. I'm gonna stop by your apartment in half an hour and I'd better see you in a cute ass dress because if Bunny ends up going with Alistair I need you to be ten times hotter than she is, as my date."
Duchess knows better than to refuse Faybelle anything, and at least this way she'll ensure that her best friend will get home safe and because of that she also knows that she won't be tempted to drink, therefore not ending up hungover. "Only if you promise we'll leave by eleven o' clock. And I mean it."
"Fine, fine, we'll leave by eleven," Faybelle waves a hand and unlocks her apartment door. "Go get ready!"
"Just- out of curiosity," Duchess adds, pondering her question, "Will Daring be there?"
"Of course Daring will be there," Faybelle says, exasperated. "You're not leaving to get ready yet, Swan."
"Alright, I'm going!" Duchess says, and true to her word leaves and goes to her own apartment, giddy at the thought of running into her crush and imagining how spellbinding she'll look in the fabulous dress she has tucked away in her closet.
Once she's inside, she notices that Lizzie is already dressed like she's about to leave, too.
"You're home rather late. Did those parents keep you after again?" Lizzie asks, around puckered lips for the deep red lipstick she's slathering on.
"They did," Duchess says, suspicious because from what she's gathered Lizzie never goes out. "Why are you dressed up?"
"I'm meeting a friend. No other reason." Lizzie throws Duchess a glare and stands up straight in her black high heels, running a gloved hand down her form fitting red dress and she tucks an escaped strand of black hair from the bun atop her head. "Are yougoing to Briar's party?"
For Christ's sake. "Maybe I am," Duchess challenges, "So what? Are you?"
Lizzie shrugs. "I might drop by." Picking up a bejeweled Harley Quinn-esque clutch, she leaves without another word, which is just fine by Duchess's standards.
She has a party to go to.
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An hour later, Faybelle's already begun drinking because sure enough, Bunny Blanc walks in on the arm of Alistair Wonderland and in Faybelle's words that equates a major fucking disaster. Duchess, who's twirling a strand of white-and-lavender streaked black hair between her fingertips, is trying to inconspicuously look around for Daring Charming. She sees his sister Darling, and his brother Dexter, but no Daring. She's keeping herself hopeful, though, and she's dressed elegantly for the occasion as it went: a pretty fitted pastel lavender dress that flares around the knees in a petticoat of white and sensible black pumps that aren't too high but aren't too short, either, her hair down and around her shoulders.
"I don't know why she's here," Faybelle raves unhappily, "They're not even friends with Briar! I'm friends with Briar! I've known Briar since we were kids!"
"Right," Duchess agrees, not even listening to what Faybelle's saying, raising her voice to be heard over some electric dubstep remix of a popular summer song. "I totally agree. Do you think something happened with Daring? Why do you think he's late?"
"Whatever," Faybelle spitefully says, loudly, sloshing around a cup of spiked fruit punch in a gimmicky red solo cup. "It's not like we were dating! She can bring around that pathetic douchebag if she wants to. I don't even like her. I hate her."
"He wouldn't be this late. I mean- his sister's already here. So is his brother. Oh, but, does Daring live with them? Who does he live with? The brother, or the sister?"
"Duchess," Faybelle snaps, "Are you even listening?"
"Yes!" Duchess exclaims (but she hasn't been). "Yes, I've been...what were you saying?"
"I need something stronger," Faybelle mutters, all but shoving the cup at Duchess. "Don't drink that."
Duchess takes the cup but doesn't drink it, as Faybelle instructed, rather setting it down on a nearby table but then Faybelle's gone in a sea of people and Duchess is left alone by the DJ's speakers and she wonders why she's even ventured there in the first place if it's the loudest place in the...oh, right, because it gives her a perfect view of the door and anyone who's walking in or out.
Briar Beauty spots her next. "Duchess," she trills, happily, an entourage three girls deep following her. "So glad you could make it. Is Faybelle around?"
"She's somewhere," Duchess responds, flippantly, mind elsewhere and distracted. "When would you say that people usually start coming to these parties of yours?"
Briar wraps an arm around Duchess's shoulders and laughs, the rings on her fingers digging into Duchess's bare collarbone. "Like, when they start?" Jokingly, she hugs Duchess close. "Are you looking for someone? Because, like, if they haven't showed then there's probably traffic or something. Or maybe they're waiting for the live band to start! I got this killer cover band, they're called The Merry Men."
"Exciting," Duchess flatly says, and she moves away from Briar's hold. "Catch you later?"
"Totally. See you on the dance floor!" Briar hoots, and she and her clique of partygoers follow right behind her. One of them, the one Duchess recognizes as Blondie Lockes, is taking a video, probably for her über-popular vlogging channel. But, whatever. Duchess isn't there for them, she's there for Daring and- oh, the DJ (Melody Piper) is playing a song and telling the party that she's going to be taking a break for the live music to start and Duchess notices on the other end that there's a stage, and some people are setting up equipment, which is fine with Duchess since that means her optimal peeping spot will now be quieter-ish. Slightly, at least, depending on the amps the band has with them.
Faybelle comes back grouchy, per the usual, but she has a bottle of vodka in her hand. "I can't even get drunk with you," Faybelle moans, shot glass at the ready, "You're my designated driver!"
"Obviously," Duchess replies. "Briar talked to me. She was looking for you."
"Oh, fuck her. She's been trying to introduce me to her new boyfriend since, like, forever. Get this, his name's Hopper. Like a fucking...frog," Faybelle finishes, flinging around her arms. "But you haven't even heard his last name. It's Croakington. If that wasn't bad enough, she tells me that his full name is Hopper Croakington The Third. Like, ew."
Duchess plucks the shot glass from Faybelle's fingertips. "Do you have a chaser?"
Faybelle snatches it back. "I don't need a damn chaser!"
Duchess shrugs, but then her eyes land on someone entering the party. She's so transfixed at the sight of Daring Charming, she misses the fact that the lead singer of The Merry Men has introduced himself, his band mates, and they've started playing a song that makes the party cheer.
"He's here," Duchess gasps, fluffing her hair.
"Uh, with another girl," Faybelle points out, and Duchess skids to a stop, her feet barely about to start moving.
Apple White. Perfectly bottle-blonde minus the bottle and pretty light blue eyes and a winning smile that she flashes at every single male on the planet and then they fall all over her disgustingly.
Currently, Apple has her hands all over Daring's bicep, looking up at him from under her long eyelashes, batting them ever so often as Daring takes his time grinning at people flocking around the two.
"But they're not dating," Duchess nervously asks, "Right?"
Blondie Lockes comes trailing through the crowd again, her phone in hand, yelling into the device to be overheard. "This just in, Daring Charming has confirmed that he and Apple White are an exclusive couple! Tune in tomorrow for a one-of-a-kind interview with Apple White herself, where she'll give out all the juicy details!"
Duchess narrows her eyes. "Do you think Blondie did that on purpose?" Sure, Duchess thought herself mildly conservative in matters regarding her crush, but Blondie was also a known snoop and it'd be like her to be in the know about the private lives of everyone.
"Who fucking cares, Duchess!" Faybelle says (and Duchess notices that the shot glass is gone and by now Faybelle's drinking straight from the vodka bottle). "People disappoint you and date other people and who fucking cares anymore..."
Rather than listening to Faybelle rant, Duchess speed walks out of Briar's party and out onto the balcony of Briar's townhouse, where only a few people have gone to either make out or avoid the loud noise. She thinks that Faybelle will be fine on her own with the vodka, since Duchess has the car keys and besides, Faybelle's always been a binge drinker.
Sitting herself on a bench, wishing there was a drink that wasn't spiked, Duchess notices that Bunny and Alistair are also on the balcony, and they're certainly not talking. It's a good thing Faybelle's inside.
"Stupid," Duchess mutters to herself, and unwillingly, she feels hot tears prick the corners of her eyes. She'd been practically throwing herself at Daring. She sent him selfies, she saved pictures of him off of his social media websites, she even had a dream wedding planned out, and then there he was, being exclusive with a goody-two shoes primadonna blonde. Faybelle was right. People disappoint you and date other people and...
The click of heels sound from behind her. "Duchess?"
With a quick swipe of her fingers, Duchess wipes away any evidence of her tears and turns to face the familiar British accent that she knows is her roommate. "What do you want, Lizzie?"
Lizzie Hearts loiters by the door the leads to the balcony and finally steps over, next to the bench where Duchess is seated. "I wanted some air. I'm just surprised to see you here without Faybelle."
Duchess shrugs. "She's inside. That's not really- my thing."
"The band's decent," Lizzie offers up. "Their lead singer can really play the guitar."
"Well, they must be good if Briar hired them." After a beat, Duchess asks, "Aren't you supposed to be meeting a friend?"
"I was. They went home, and I came here." Lizzie sits down next to Duchess even though Duchess doesn't care for her company and doesn't even move an inch to allow Lizzie more room. "Have you been here long?"
"Not really." Duchess glances over the night sky and inhales slowly. "It's barely ten o' clock. I promised Faybelle till eleven."
"I heard about Alistair," Lizzie whispers, so that even though Bunny and Alistair are on the opposite side of the balcony they won't hear. "Bunny said it was better if they got back together because Faybelle's never been good at sharing her emotions."
"Does Blondie know?" Duchess asks, suddenly, filled with dread at the thought. If Faybelle knew that Blondie was spreading rumors...
"No, nothing like that. I've been acquaintances with the two for a long time and Bunny confided in me. She doesn't want Blondie to learn about it, either. She really likes Faybelle, you know. Bunny. But she's in love with Alistair."
"I won't be telling Faybelle any of this, so don't worry," Duchess begrudgingly admits. "If you want me to keep this a secret."
At the word secret, Lizzie almost jumps. "O-oh. I've only just remembered. I really must get going. I-I love this song!"
Duchess can't even hear the song, but she only nods. "Sure." She's also slightly suspicious of Lizzie, though, because she's sure that Lizzie doesn't have any friends Briar knows, though at the same time, Briar's network connections span far and wide. "I'm going to go inside, too. To find Faybelle."
"Right. See you at home!" Lizzie practically runs away from Duchess once she's inside, into the throngs of people gathered by the stage. Duchess, from her spot by the balcony doors, tries to search for Faybelle, but only ends up seeing Daring talking to his brother Dexter and then she feels elated at the fact that he's alone and most definitely not with Apple White!
The band strikes up another song behind her; a cover of a hit song that's slow and gentle and suddenly the floor's filling up with couples. With Apple nowhere in sight, Duchess's heart races. This is her chance! Pushing past a couple in her way, she approaches Daring, happy to see that Dexter is off to dance with his own girlfriend Raven and even happier to see that Apple has not resurfaced.
"Daring, hi," Duchess says, sweetly, as he focuses on her and she tries not to hyperventilate. "Isn't this band great?"
"Oh, yes. Smashing. Completely smashing. I always did say that live music is better than recorded discs," Daring says, nodding like he's a music expert, charming smile still on his face.
"This is my absolute favorite song," Duchess adds, even if she doesn't know the song name. "My date's gone, and I have no one to dance to it with." Hoping he catches the hint, she smiles brazenly and bats her eyelashes like she's seen Apple White do.
"What a shame. I hope you find them," Daring solemnly replies, placing a hand on Duchess's shoulder before retreating it a second later. "I've got to go. See you around, Debbie."
"My name's Duchess," Duchess says, crestfallen, as Daring leaves her alone, at the side of the stage, couples all around her. "Not Debbie." With an embarrassingly shaky inhale, she tries to act unaffected. Great. She'd basically been rejected. Worse than that, Daring doesn't even know her name.
Yup. The night was a complete waste of her time. Oh, why had she vouched to be the designated driver? A nice strong drink would have been great. So would be blasting Taylor Swift and having runny mascara dribbling down her cheeks, alone, without the threat of a roommate and/or a best friend.
Willing herself not to cry because that was pathetic, Duchess slips away from the party and outside of Briar's townhouse, into the street, where the chill night air and the faint sound of a police siren hit her like a brick and she realizes how miserable she is, and also brings to her attention that her dress is stained (most likely with Faybelle's sloppy vodka drinking) and she's cold. Without the threat of being seen, her face crumbles. But she doesn't cry. Duchess Swan doesn't cry.
Fumbling with her bag, her quivering fingers manage to unzip her purse and she finds her phone, which is telling her that it's barely ten twenty and it seems as if the next forty minutes will not go by fast enough. If she's lucky, maybe Faybelle will get too drunk and fall asleep and maybe Duchess can convince her to leave early by tricking her out of a time-telling device.
"Hey, Duchess?"
Alarmed, Duchess whirls around to face Raven Queen, who's the girlfriend of Dexter Charming and a complete diva as legends went. Rumors said she had a famous rivalry with the pretentiously perfect Apple White, and because of that Duchess can appreciate her.
Raven apologetically quirks her dark-purple tinted lips into a smile. "Um, sorry. Dexter saw you leave and he mentioned-"
"Save it," Duchess snaps before she can stop herself, and she really can't. Her first instinct is to be mean to save her own feelings. "I don't know what your boyfriend thinks he overhead, but it's not like that at all. I don't care, all right? I don't care about Daring."
Raven blinks in surprise, and Duchess notices that her thick eyeliner is perfect and wonders how she can get it like that. "That's not...what I meant? Dexter saw you leave and he mentioned to me that Faybelle's being sort of- rowdy."
Duchess feels her face go red. "Right. Faybelle."
Raven's smile is back. "She's trying to pull the lead singer of The Merry Men off the stage."
God. "Is she really?" Duchess groans (because babysitting a drunk Faybelle was never on her agenda, and it's exactly like Faybelle to do something utterly embarrassing).
"I mean, don't worry. They're in the last part of their set, so she's not really being too distracting. The lead singer's kind of trying to get away from her, though."
"I'll go get her," Duchess resigns, "Before she does something stupid like the last time she was at Briar's party."
"...you mean like the time she was dancing on Humphrey Dumpty and yelling at people to throw dollar bills at her?"
"Exactly like that."
With Raven trailing her, Duchess weaves her way towards the stage where The Merry Man are finishing up their last song and DJ Melody Piper is already drawing the crowd back. She can see Faybelle, who's bouncing in her heels and has her arms thrown around the neck of a guy whose hands, encased in fingerless gloves, hang limply at his sides because he's determinedly not touching Faybelle, who's giggling like a groupie.
"Faybelle," Duchess says, reaching a hand out for her friend, "It's eleven and you promised we could go home, remember?"
"You never let me have any fun," Faybelle whines, and then she lets go of the lead singer and frowns, blue lipstick smeared around her lips from the amount of time she's spent with a bottle to them, eyes droopy with sleep so Duchess is confident she can convince her to leave all in one piece.
Except Duchess makes the mistake of locking eyes with the lead singer of The Merry Men.
Sparrow Hood.
How could she not have noticed him? With that terrible hat? And the scruffy-looking goatee? Not to mention his voice playing over loudspeakers?!
He grins he second he recognizes her. "Well, well, well," he says, pausing between each word. "Look who we have here."
Duchess scowls, arm around Faybelle's shoulders. "Come on, Faybelle. We're going home."
"Do you guys know each other?" Faybelle asks, suddenly seeming wide awake and having found her vodka bottle again. (Duchess worries to find it mostly empty).
"Me and Princess here go way back," Sparrow says, jutting out his chin in greeting.
"We don't," Duchess responds, coldly. "Let's go, Faybelle."
"I wanna party," Faybelle complains, but then Duchess grabs her arm tightly. "Ow. Like, lay off, Swan."
"You're drunk," Duchess says. From behind her, she can see that Raven's rallied up Dexter and his sister Darling, most likely to help them out.
"We can help you take Faybelle to the car," Darling offers cheerfully, and she's probably sober, too, even though she smells of too-strong cinnamon perfume and there's lipstick on her cheek. Dexter and Raven stand by, waiting for Duchess to need their help which is surprising because Duchess swears she'd never do something as selfless as that.
"See you tomorrow, Princess?" Sparrow asks, smirk on his face.
Duchess narrows her eyes at him, attention returning to her annoying coworker. "Bite me."
"I like it when you talk dirty, baby," Sparrow grins.
"Get a life," Duchess retorts, flipping her hair and then yanking Faybelle alongside her, leaving, gladly accepting Darling's help of supporting her dozing best friend and genuinely appreciating Raven and Dexter's help, too.
Oh, Faybelle's going to regret the hangover. Duchess already regrets her night, and she's not even close to drunk.