A/ N: It's a little late, I know. But I just got back.
This was just ridiculous. Sitting alone at an elaborate party all night having nothing to do but take shots.
Stupid party! Stupid embassy! Why do they have shit like this? Why did I even come? Didn't we leave our station to come here and help? Not sit around and mingle with international spies. Oh yeah, I'm the muscle.
But he could tell she hated it too, well the whole dressing to the nines thing, but she looked stunning. It was strange seeing her in a dress. Like it wasn't even her. She's even smiling too.
Maybe she really is happy over here. Who knows? Who cares if it's all for show?
He tries not to make it so obvious that he's staring, so he buries his face in magazine that he could not even understand. He's got quite the buzz, but he's getting way too bored and decides to pick up his drink and pretend to be someone else.
Quinn's enjoying the bullshit. Talking to ambassadors and political officers, acting like he gives two fucks about what they're saying. Throwing in some stupid jokes that he hasn't tossed around since college. They're eating it up! It's actually fun.
They make it over to the bar where everyone is taking turns, showing each other how to take a tequila shot the right way. After the sixth one, it's Quinn's turn. It's a disaster. At this point he can't even hold the lime wedge and the shot completely misses his mouth. The drinks from earlier were definitely catching up. This doesn't stop him from ordering a vodka on the rocks at the counter.
"Is this seat empty?" A fellow drunk asks.
Quinn glances in the wrong direction, until he gets a tap on the shoulder from the other side.
"Um, uh no buddy. Sit."
The man stumbles onto the stool next to him and orders another drink for himself. Quinn is silent, so he attempts making conversation.
"So uhhhh, quite a party huh?"
"Izah okay I gis", Quinn mumbles.
The man is surprised.
"Waz not to love? Open bar, hot women, is perfect."
"Yeah...", Quinn manages to get out before resting his forehead on the bar.
"Likah thata one. Carrie I think."
Quinn suddenly lifts his head up, splashing most of his vodka out of the glass.
"Ha-who?"
"Thata girl. Righta there. You know her?" He points.
"Ugh not really", he says, while taking a second to glance at her. She notices.
Shit she's coming over here. Don't look. Don't look. Shit I'm looking.
"Hiya", his bar buddy intercepts, before she can even speak.
"Oh, uh hi you're Sam right?" Carrie says.
He practically falls off the bar stool and grabs her hand, now gaining more of the attention of Quinn that he didn't even know he had in him.
"I justa wanted to say that your ah hot as fuck", he says getting closer.
"Uh thanks?" she says giving him a rather dirty look.
Quinn wants to look away but can't, so he watches. Sam now moves his other hand to her back, pulling her closer, compelling Quinn to move the edge of his seat.
"Uh what the fuck are you doing?" Carrie demands, while lightly trying to push the man who was obviously drunk off of her. This only makes him tighten his grip on her.
"I justa wanta fuck you. I want you to have my babies!" He abruptly announces, while attempting to kiss her.
"Get the fuck off!" She shouts, now unsuccessfully trying to shove him away.
Quinn erupts from his lousy position and lunges at him, grabbing him by the throat.
"She said get the fug off!" Quinn screams while pushing him to the ground.
Sam lies on the ground holding his throat. Quinn continues to tell him off as Carrie watches in confusion.
"You piece of shit! She's not your fugging whore azzhole!"
He turns to Carrie.
"She's smart and beautiful!" He says with a sloppy gaze.
"Quinn? I think you better-"
"No Carrie, No! Justa let me say dis k", he stumbles. "I just wanna say that I like you. Like a lot. You see that guy? No. No. He's a asshole! You need to let me be nice to you and help you. Or, or I'll leave. Cuz I'm only over here ta help ya. K?"
Her eyes widen and she looks around where half the crowd is watching. When he finally notices the audience, it's too late.
Sam rises from his awkward position on the floor, inadvertently running into Quinn as he was about to walk away, knocking them both to the ground. Quinn lifts his head for one last thing to say to Sam.
"And she alrudy has the most prettiest baby girl in the world at home, so yeah."
His head drops to the floor and he drifts off for a moment. Carrie is embarrassed as hell, but cannot allow herself to leave him there. She shouts in his ear, insisting that he needs to get up. He eventually moves, but struggles to rise. Finally she gets him to a chair, where he passes out at the table.
The next day, Quinn surprisingly feels just fine. He wonders a little bit how he had gotten home, but it wasn't that unusual. He even makes it out the door early to head over to the embassy.
"Oh, hey Carrie", he says as he notices her down the hall.
She looks in multiple directions before approaching him.
"Quinn you mind telling me what the fuck happened last night?"
He arches his right brow.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"