Title: Drunk: A Love Story In Two Parts
Author: Roguester
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Blah, blah.
Author's Note: Big thanks to Bikini Kill and Sleater Kinney for providing me with inspirational music, to Jack Daniels for making "Down Home Punch," and The-N for giving me my Instant Star fix.
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Part I: Jude and Tommy
She walked, criss-crossing down the hall with confetti in her hair and a laugh in her chest.
Criss-crossing down the hall and --
Tripping over herself,
But kept telling herself that she's not drunk, just a little bit tipsy.
Kept telling herself how stupid she was for wearing pumps on the night of her big celebration, just a few minutes away from her 18th birthday. Yelling "Ow, ow, ow!" when she missed her step, slightly twisting her ankle.
And she limped, criss-crossing down the hall with a song in her lips and a buzz in her head...
Knowing full well that Patsy Sewer spiked the punch that night, but she kept drinking it anyway.
Said you can barely taste the alcohol.
So she raised her glass, nodded at Darius, who made a dash towards her -- a glint of rage and worry in his eyes.
Booming with "WHAT-IN-THE-HELL" between huffs and puffs.
Eyes finally softening as he tousled her hair with a very patient, "That's your last drink, girl."
She said, don't worry. I'm not drunk, just a little tipsy.
And where was Tommy anyway, she thought. As she limped, criss-crossing down the hall with a drizzle of spiked punch down her shirt and a bad taste in her mouth making her want to --
Throw up.
So she grabbed for the closest doorknob and planned on vomitting all over whatever room it led to.
Stumbling all over the floor with her hair all in shambles and her ankle slightly swollen and where was Tommy anyway?
Right here, he said.
I'm right here, he said.
Jude? You okay?
And he's walking towards her now, saying her name ever-so-softly while peeking through the curtain of her eyelids. Saying her name in that sweet way that he's always said her name.
Jude.
Like honey, like.
Warm milk before bedtime.
Jude, he said.
And she revelled in it. In that solemn voice of his that whispered her name at night. When they're talking on the phone. Or when they're in his apartment. Or at G Major Records after everybody has left for the day...
Stealing moments in the janitor's closet during office hours...
She liked to feel his breath against her neck when they're hugging and --
It usually sent her spiraling down the pit of her stomach,
Eyes drifting to a close while whispering love you, love you, love you against his cheek.
Jude, he said again.
And she fluttered her eyes open, drinking in the vision of him. This... man who kissed her brows in the dark and held her hand underneath the table during business meetings. This man who let her sleep on his bed while he crashed on the couch. This man who kept her all to himself, humming tunes in the shadow as he placed kisses along her shoulders one... after... another.
This man,
Who opened his mouth against her skin, drinking in the taste of her. Opening his mouth like he has something profound to say, something like honey, like...
Warm milk before bedtime. A smooth flow of poetry and prose sliding so magnificently from his tongue. He said...
"Jude?"
Yes, Tommy?
"You're in the men's bathroom."
And she felt it right then. The punch, the alcohol, and the throbbing in her ankle.
Finally kicking off her pumps and falling against her boyfriend's chest. Her boyfriend who kept her all to himself and told her sweet nothings in the janitor's closet during business hours. He asked...
"Do you need to throw up or something?" stifling a laugh out of respect to his girlfriend, who's obviously not having a pleasant time.
I'm not drunk, was all she said.
And they stood there holding each other, hearts pumping along with the music that vibrated through the floor. Holding each other like they've always held each other: arms and hands and hearts molding themselves into a perfect fit. Then he pulled away, tilting her chin up 'til he can see the silvery blue specs in her eyes. Looking deeply into her with a sly smile dancing across his lips, sliding his fingers down her arms and kissing the palm of her hand. He said...
I have your present.
So he pulled her to him, walking backwards toward the bathroom door, grinning like it's some form of a surprise. He sped up, tugging her by the hand as he urged her with "Come on, come on, come on!" in between fits of giggles. And she's wondering, "Where the heck are we going?" as she quickly looked at her watch and realized that she'll be turning 18 in approximately 40 seconds...
30 seconds...
20 seconds...
Stumbling all over herself because she IS drunk and NOT just a little bit tipsy. Consciously aware of Tommy's hand in hers as he dragged her down the stairs into the lobby where the champagne was flowing and the music was blasting through the speakers. Her guests danced through the night. Kwest on the wheels of steel. Her dad doing the cabbage patch near the dip.
And they stopped at their tracks. 10 seconds 'til 18.
Tommy swept his eyes through the crowd before finally setting his sights on her. He slid a hand behind her neck and rested the other on her waist as he looked at her, tenderly like the day they fell asleep on that couch, in that old night club, where she woke up in his arms. Where she yearned for that one stolen kiss before they were disturbed by her two ex-boyfriends. "The public." Her audience. That entity they tried so hard to hide from. But at that moment, 5 seconds until she turns 18, he held her close, pressed his forehead against hers, and counted...
3...
2...
1...
Kissed her right then in front of everybody, holding her close and keeping her all to himself, but finally sharing their love with the world outside.
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Part II: Patsy and Jamie
He was shocked when she grabbed his wrist and said, "Don't drink the kool aid." She --
Grabbed his wrist, took his cup and poured the contents back into the punch bowl.
She said, "Don't drink it Jimster," like it's a matter of life and death, like people are going to die right this second if he drank the punch, and he protested, staring a thousand daggers at her, until...
He finally gathered all the pointy ends and tied them together into one culminating question of WHY?
"Why?" she asked, "Because I poisoned it."
And she waved her flask at him, which probably contained one of her dear friends: Jim, Jack, Johnny Red, Johnny Black, or Jose Cuervo. Her dear friends whom he's become familiar with, seeing that she's always a little buzzed everytime they were together. Not together-together, but together "TOGETHER," like that night in Liam's office when she bit his mouth for the first time. She kissed him,
Hard and fast as she tore off his shirt and pushed him to the floor...
She drank whiskey off his stomach. Licked every trace of liquid off his skin.
And he was so terrified. He couldn't stop flinching at her touch, that is until she pressed a finger against his lip and --
Shhhhh...
Relax, Jim-bone. You want this.
And he did. So badly. He couldn't believe how much he wanted this... girl.
This girl whom he just met, who
Licked whiskey off his stomach, who
Bit his mouth, who
Released him.
Released this side of him that he used to hide behind his glasses. This "typical boy" side that lurked beneath his "good guy" persona.
The typical boy who wanted sex.
Yes, he said it. He wanted sex. The kind that had him laughing and giggling while putting on her tiny black girl-jacket. The kind that had him putting eyeliner on, sometimes even lipstick, and he knows that sounds crazy, but it makes him feel good --
Knowing that she's there with him. Wanting him. Telling him, come on Jimmy-boy, turn me on, recite the periodic table of elements for me.
And he would. Shaking his head from sheer disbelief because this girl... this woman...
Actually. Loves. Nerds.
So he took himself, his nerdy punk rock self, and rounded third base with an actual baseball and an actual catcher's mit...
And a pair of handcuffs, however that one worked out.
A ping pong paddle...
Chocolate syrup...
And her friends,
Jim, Jack, Johnny Red, Johnny Black, and Jose Cuervo.
And he thinks it's just a part of her tough girl act, but in reality... in reality she's just nervous. Liquor calms her down. Makes her believe that she deserved to be with him.
Afraid that one day he will wake up from their night of debauchery thinking, "Who is this girl and why am I with her?"
So she grabbed his wrist and said, "Don't drink the kool aid." She --
Grabbed his wrist, took his cup and poured the contents back into the punch bowl.
And he protested, staring a thousand daggers at her, saying things like, "But you always take a swig when you're with me!" or --
"I saw Jude drinking earlier!" and she just
Grabbed him by the belt loop and breathed a whisper in his ear, pleading "Baby, not tonight" in that voice of hers that she only uses when she's trying to be sweet...
That voice she uses when people point to the hickey on her neck and ask, "What is that?" And she says,
That's my heart.
That's my Jamie.
So she took his cup and poured the contents back into the punch bowl. And he's looking at her like, what are you doing? What are you trying to tell me? And she says...
Fuck you, okay?
I love you.
And she emptied the entire flask into the punch bowl, poking a finger to his chest and saying, "I don't need the liquor anymore, I just need US." And he looked at her, like that first night in Liam's office when she cut her hand, and --
Buried his face on her shoulder, biting her earlobe playfully, Thinking...
You're my heart.
You're my Patsy.
And I will recite the periodic table of elements for you for as long as I live.
END