2 – You're Drunk

I'm writing this straight after finishing writing the first chapter – I'm on a roll! Now if only I could apply a similar dedication to my other story...hope you enjoy!

This chapter does push the boundaries of the T rating, as it contains Zoey being decidedly unclassy, but I don't write smut. I also have no experience of clubs, due to the fact that I'm 16 years old.

NOTE DURING EDITING: Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and alerts etc! I meant to upload this on Wednesday, making it a weekly thing, but I've just started college and I start work next weekend, so my free time is limited, but I'd like to know which day you guys think I should upload on. Also I'm not feeling too great, so please excuse any errors.

I don't own anything you recognised – all kudos to Stan Lee, Joss Whedon, etc. I do own Zoey however, and she is not being very responsible at all. Tut tut.

14th February 2013.

I looked down at the card on my lap, the faint scent of roses still clinging to it. The actual roses had been thrown down the garbage chute the moment I read the card, but for some reason I hadn't allowed the card to follow them. I opened it again and read the words I'd already memorised for the thousandth time.

Zoey,

Still regretting everything I did wrong. Still getting better. Still thinking of you. Still wish you were with me right now. Still love you.

Mark
x

He hadn't even written in proper sentences, for crying out loud. A couple of personal pronouns or connectives would not have killed him. I ran my finger over the card, feeling the indents where he'd pressed too hard with the pen. He always did that. I knew him well enough to know that these words were ones he'd spent hours...no, more likely days deliberating over; toying with flowery language and sonnets before deciding to keep it simple and to the point. Of course, the words had to contain just the right amount of guilt on his behalf to make me feel twice as bad. I felt my eyes well with tears and brushed at them furiously. I'd cried enough over him. No more. My sanity couldn't afford it.

"Zo! I'm heading out! Don't wait up for me, I think we'll be going back to his after dinner." Tori's voice dripped with innuendo. I knew she wasn't trying to be insensitive, she just had zero tact. I cleared my throat.

"Okay, have fun!" I called. I heard the door slam and curled up in the foetal position in the centre of my bed. I was with Mark for three years. It was completely understandable that I was feeling a little lonely and nostalgic on Valentine's Day; my first single Valentine's Day since I was 15, no less. I looked at my phone. 7pm. All the restaurants would be filling up with happy couples around about now. There would be more than a few proposals tonight. There would also be several rejections. I could watch TV...but the only thing that would be airing would be soppy romantic comedies. Our DVD player was broken, I'd lost the charger for my laptop, and I valued my life too much to consider using Tor's. Looks like that tub of Ben & Jerry's would be disappearing pretty damn quickly. Likewise the stash of chocolate in my bedside table. I sighed as I rolled over, resigning myself to a night of feeling sorry for myself and getting fat. Unless...

In the corner of my bedroom were a pair of shoes I bought in a fit of madness (and under pressure from Tori) the day after I split up with Mark. They were black, shiny, sexy and had a 5 inch heel that I could only just walk in. Tori insisted that they would help. I didn't believe her. I looked back at the clock. It was only just 7pm. I could be out by 9pm. And dance until dawn.

~X~

I stepped out of the taxi in front of the classiest of the clubs within a ten mile radius of our apartment. I tugged my very short, very tight black dress down a little further over my fishnet-encased thighs and flipped my hooker-style curls over my shoulder. Tonight, I was going to have fun, and I didn't really care who with. Everyone's allowed a night of 'slutty' behaviour once in a while, right? I was going to get drunk and some guy was going to get lucky, damn the consequences. If I got laid...well, it had been while. I was damned if I was going to spend Valentine's Day alone, and I didn't care how pathetic that may sound. I'm young and carefree.

I walked fairly steadily up to the end of the queue for the club and rubbed my arms to warm myself up. I hadn't bothered with a coat – they only get stolen at clubs. I had my clutch, which contained some money, my ID, keys and some condoms, and that was it. I didn't even bother with my phone. Luckily, the couple of drinks I'd had at home were beginning to make themselves known, and I didn't feel the cold as strongly as I would otherwise. The bouncer stopped me and asked for ID (as always), and I smirked at him as he nodded me in. I sashayed towards the pounding music that was completely unidentifiable, quirking my eyebrow at a group of guys who were wolf whistling. I reached the bar and ordered the cheapest cocktail on the menu, necking it the moment it arrived and gesturing for a refill. I sipped the second drink, surveying the floor of pulsating bodies grinding up against each other. A tall blonde guy caught my eye, and he raised an arm, beckoning me to join him. I downed the nasty drink, smoothed my dress down and took the hand he offered, pressing my body against his as we moved to the music. His hands rested on my hips as his chin dropped onto my shoulder, his slight stubble scratching my cheek.

"You're too sexy to be here on your own." He murmured in my ear and I shivered.

"Well I suppose I should make friends then." I replied. He chuckled, his throat vibrating on the sensitive skin at the back of my neck.

"Does the sexy girl have a name?" He asked.

"Zoey. And what about good looking on my shoulder?"

"Luke."

"Hello Luke." The beat changed slightly, as did our movements – they became faster, less controlled. I pressed into him and was pleased to hear him suppress a groan.

"Can I get you a drink, Zoey?" I tilted my head back to look at him.

"You most certainly can." I breathed as he led me towards the bar, his hand hot and sticky in mine.

"Can we have two vodka shots?" The bartender nodded and slid the glasses towards us, pouring the clear liquid into them expertly. Luke handed one to me and held his out. "To new friends." His eyes said something a lot different, and my eyes smoldered right back. I tapped my glass to his and throw the vodka down my throat, wincing slightly. "Anything else?" I asked for a strong margarita, which he matched, and we drank them in silence, exchanging heated looks every time we caught each other's eye. I was feeling buzzed from the alcohol I'd already consumed, and I was waiting for the vodka to hit my brain so I completely lost my inhibitions – I'd always had a weak spot for it. As we finished the drinks, Luke nodded back towards the dance floor and I hopped down off the bar stool, letting him guide me back to the mass of bodies, his hands tight on my hips, fingers splayed across my abdomen as we moved with the rest of the crowd. I stuck my bum out a bit so I was even more firmly pressed against his crotch and he bit down lightly on my neck.

"You never said if you were here with anyone." I gasped, feeling his mouth moving up my throat.

"I'm here on my own too. Not for much longer though, I think." I turned around in his arms, resting my fingers on his shirt collar. It didn't escape my notice that his hand slipped a little further down on my hips as I turned, or the fact that as our chests pressed together he looked down appreciatively.

"And why might you think that?" His breath was hot, and his mouth tasted like alcohol as he pressed his lips to mine. Almost immediately I felt his tongue running over my lips and I welcomed it, my hands curling around his shirt collar and brushing his skin. He broke the kiss to look for the shortest route to a wall (and later, an exit) and I took the opportunity to press my lips to his jaw, throat, clavicle. He grunted and pulled my face back to his.

"You're killing me, Zoey." He growled against my lips as he guided us towards the wall where several couples were already leaning, making out and...running the bases. Luke pushed me until I felt the cool stone hit my back and then his lips were on mine again. My head was spinning – whether it from Luke's phenomenal mouth work or from the alcohol, I didn't care. I knotted my fingers in his blonde hair, scratching my nails against his skull and he bit my bottom lip, causing me to gasp in surprise. I slid a hand down his chest and slipped it under his shirt, tracing his defined muscles. Here was a guy who spent a lot of time on his abs, and damn, it paid off. I felt one of his hands squeeze my ass and I grinned against his mouth, realising the other hand was sliding up my stomach towards my boobs. He started pressing kisses across my jaw, feather light and shiver-inducing as the hand that was on my bum slipped down my thigh towards my hemline. I felt him suck on my exposed collarbone as his fingers crept under my dress and across the fishnet tights towards my itty-bitty panties, and my head fell back against the wall as I groaned. I twisted my neck to give him better access to where he seemed intent on leaving a hickey and caught the eye of one of the other people pressed against the wall. Specifically, one of the guys.

Mark.

I gasped and hit Luke's back in the universal gesture of 'stopstopsTOPSTOP' and he looked up at me, his eyelids heavy and his pupils dilated.

"I'm sorry..." My voice was tiny. "I have to go." His face fell.

"What the hell? I thought you-"

"I was but I just saw someone I recognise and I have to get out of here now." To give him credit, Luke saw the desperation in my eyes and stepped back, letting me pull my dress down from where it had been pushed up and wiped the stray lipstick from around my mouth. "I'm really sorry, you seem like a great guy."

"Don't. Just don't. Get yourself home safe, yeah?" He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a receipt and a pencil. "If you ever wanna...pick up where we just left off...here's my number." I smiled gratefully at him, standing on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, before grabbing the piece of paper and escaping.

I finally got outside and leant against the wall, letting the cold air cool my flushed cheeks. Dammit, why did he have to be there and ruin everything? I went to the freaking club to prove to myself that I wasn't still hung up on him, but of course, he had to be there, and he had to look at me with those hurt little puppy dog eyes...stupid bloody alcoholic.

"Zoey!" I punched the wall in anger.

"Mark, just leave me alone, okay?" I shouted towards the voice, my vision blurring slightly until he finally came into focus.

"What were you doing? God knows what that guy was gonna do to you!"

"God knows and so did I, Mark! I'm a consenting adult, do you know what that means? It means I can get off with who I like and I shouldn't have to worry about my good for nothin' ex poking his stupid nose in!" I was verging on hysterical as I pulled my ridiculous shoes off and stumbled down the road. I didn't care where I was heading, as long as it was away from him.

"Babe-"

"Don't call me babe. You don't get to call me babe. Not anymore." I whirled around and poked him sharply in the chest, blinking furiously to clear my eyes of the tears threatening to fall. Angry tears, aka, the worst thing in the world. Make that drunk angry tears, and it's hellish. He grabbed hold of the tops of my arms, forcing me to look at him.

"Tell me you don't love me anymore." His eyes were pleading, begging me to say the opposite. I smiled hugely at him.

"I don't love you anymore. Now let me go, you son of a herpes ridden bitch." I wrenched myself away from him and stalked off down the street, ignoring his cries behind me.

I should have paid attention where I was walking. I knew that if I kept heading east, I'd eventually hit the highway and from there it was a clear route home, but my alcohol-fuddled brain didn't think to warn me against going down the dark side-streets with seedy bars and clubs lighting the way. I blanked the heckling past the first couple of them, but right down the end of the road was a rowdy group of three guys in their late twenties who were filled with liquid confidence.

"Alright there love? Need some company?"

"Lookin' good in that dress sweetheart."

"Bet you'd look better without it."

"Why don't you show us, eh?"

"We're not gonna hurt you."

"We just want to have a little fun."

"Come on babe."

"Don't touch me." I hissed as one of them made a lunge for my backside. I had completely lost my enthusiasm for a night of anonymity and frivolity – I was cold, tired, drunk, I felt ill and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep.

"Ooohoohooo, she's a feisty one, she is."

"All dressed up like that and not up for it?"

"Nahhh lads, look at her, she wants it really."

"Please leave me alone." I shied away from their grabbing hands, feeling a wall come up against my back. Dammit.

"Awww, she wants us to leave her alone, boys."

"She won't be saying that soon."

"She'll be screaming for more."

"She'll be begging for it."

"And we, being the gentlemen that we are, will gladly oblige."

"No, stop..." One of them pushed his hands against my shoulders, pinning me to the bricks. I felt them scraping against my skin and the pain seemed to spur me into action. I swung the hand that was holding my shoes against his head and felt a satisfying jolt as they connected.

"OOOoooowoooOOOooOOWWwWwww you little bitch!" He howled as I took the opportunity to push past them and make a run for it, but one of them grabbed me round my waist, pulling me back against his chest, an arm wrapped across my collarbone and putting pressure on my neck. I screamed as another of them slapped me across the face, and I jerked my head back, noting a crunch against my skull as I broke the guy holding me's nose. He let go and I held my shoes up as weapons, my clutch bag abandoned on the floor.

"Just let me leave, and I won't tell anyone what happened here." My voice sounded a lot more confident than I felt, and I quickly bent down to grab my bag and jam it under my arm. As I straightened, one of them grabbed my wrist and I instinctively windmilled my arm, forcing him to let go, but not before I felt something in my wrist crunch ominously. I was oblivious to the pain however, as the adrenaline and alcohol inspired me to turn and run. I could hear them giving chase, but I pegged it, feeling the pavement smacking into my bare feet with every step. I could sense that the highway was close and I could only pray that I'd reach it before they caught up with me. I turned a corner and tripped, landing painfully on my hands and knees. I cried out, but dragged myself to my feet, when I was suddenly grabbed round my waist and pulled into the shadows of a doorway. I started to scream but a hand covered my mouth.

"Shhh, or they'll hear you." I recognised the voice, and I couldn't think where from, but for some reason I trusted it. I let the man hold me against his chest, hiding my face in his neck as I heard the three guys run past. He loosened his hold and I stepped back, straining my eyes to see my rescuer.

"Bruce?" I asked incredulously.

"Zoey?" His voice mirrored my disbelief.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I asked first!"

"I was at one of the bars. The owner's an old friend of mine. You...you're hurt...and you must be freezing, jesus..." He shrugged off his coat and held it out to me. I slid my arms through the sleeves, suddenly too tired to argue.

"I've been really dumb tonight, Bruce." I said miserably and he frowned.

"No, I'm sure you haven't, you just..." I looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe you weren't as smart as you might have been. I uh...can I...uh...I should take you home. Make sure you get there safe."

"I'd appreciate that." I sniffed and he looked conflicted.

"So uh...where do you live?" I looked around us, suddenly realising I recognised where we were. Apparently drunk me was a pretty damn good homing pigeon.

"Down this way and then a couple of left turns, it's not far." I wiped my eyes, feeling gritty mascara under my fingers. "God, I must look a wreck."

"Don't worry about it, I've seen much worse." Bruce hesitantly wrapped an arm around my waist after realising I could barely walk straight and took my bag, leaving me carrying only my shoes.

"You're too kind." I smiled and he tilted his head. "Why are you so nice?" I wondered aloud.

"Because I'm not the sort of guy who suits angry." He said in an undertone, then looked at me guiltily as if he was hoping I hadn't heard. I pasted a clueless look on my face, feigning ignorance. "How far away are we?"

"Five minutes." I mumbled, stumbling slightly and grabbing hold of Bruce's shirt to keep myself from falling. He looked down at me, eyes narrowed slightly.

"I thought you didn't drink." He said accusingly.

"I don't. Well I didn't. I guess it was a phase. It's Valentine's Day and I'm alone, I'm allowed to have a drink if I want to. Or two. Or four. Or more." He laughed.

"Were you out on your own?" I nodded. "Well maybe next time you decide you want to get drunk, make sure there's someone with you? It's all very well and good but tonight hasn't exactly ended very well for you." He gestured to me in general, and I suddenly became aware of everywhere that hurt. My knees, my palms, my wrist, my cheek, my shoulders...

"Ow." I muttered sullenly. He paused and held me at arm's length.

"I'll patch you up before I go home." He decided and I smiled.

"I'm not sure about what you meant about tonight not ending very well. I've got a wonderful guy taking me home." I batted my eyelids overdramatically and he chuckled.

"I'm sure I'm not quite what you had in mind." He replied. I stopped in front of a building, steering Bruce unsteadily towards the door.

"This is me. Fourth floor." He opened my bag and found my keys, blessedly ignoring the foil packets and buzzed the door open. He guided me towards the elevator and summoned it, helping me through the doors when they opened. I stabbed the button for the fourth floor and damn near collapsed into the corner.

"Woah woah woah, are you okay?" The concern in Bruce's voice made me smile.

"I'm just really really drunk and I hurt." I answered and he sighed. As the door opened, he helped me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my waist to support me. "Thank you, Bruce. Really." He nodded.

"Don't mention it. Which door?" I pointed and he unlocked it.

"Tor?" I called weakly. She did say she'd probably be out, but I thought it best to check. When my voice echoed back to me round the clearly empty apartment, I looked at Bruce. "She had a date." He sat me in one of the kitchen chairs and set the coffee machine off. "First aid kit is in the cupboard under the sink." I offered and he crouched to grab it. I shrugged his jacket off, wincing as I moved my wrist. Bruce handed me a mug of coffee and then knelt on the floor, cutting my tights off just above my knees. I laughed suddenly.

"What?" He looked up, his glasses perched adorably on the end of his nose.

"It's just...well, I'd kinda hoped that a guy would be on his knees in front of me tonight but I wasn't thinking it would be quite like this." Bruce's blush only made me laugh harder. "Don't worry. You do what you gotta do, Doc." He shook his head, smiling, as he wiped the cuts on my knees with an antiseptic wipe and pressed Band Aids over them. His attention moved to my hands then, and he gently turned them over, noting my wince as he moved the right one. He cleaned the cut on my left palm, putting yet another Band Aid on it, before assessing the right.

"I don't think it's broken, just sprained, or stressed muscle. I'll wrap it up, but if the pain doesn't subside in a couple of days, get it checked out." I nodded, fascinated by the way he was completely absorbed in his task. "How does that feel?" I waggled my fingers around the bandage and he nodded. "I think your face should be okay, just bruised for a week or so, and the scratches on your back don't look dirty, but make sure you have a shower or bath as soon as possible. Overall, you've been pretty lucky." I suddenly felt ashamed (alcohol always gave me raging mood swings), and stared steadfastly at the bottom of my mug. "You okay?"

"I feel really stupid and I hate to think what you think of me now." I admitted.

"We've all been there, Zoey. Are uh...will you be okay getting into bed, or uh..." He scratched his head awkwardly.

"I'll be fine, Doc. Thank you so much. Can I get you anything?" I looked towards the coffee machine and he shook his head.

"No, I should get home, it's late...I don't want to keep you up any later." He helped me to my feet, which I could feel were slightly sticky with blood from running in just tights, but I figured I could clean them up by myself rather than waste any more of his time. I walked with him to the door and handed him his coat. "Hope you heal up okay, and that your head doesn't hurt to bad in the morning. Drink some water before you go to bed." His eyes were full of concern and I nodded, avoiding his gaze.

"Thank you Bruce. You really are wonderful." He grinned bashfully. "I'm serious. God knows where I'd be right now if you hadn't saved me. My floppy haired Knight." I teased and he flushed. For a moment, I debated asking him to stay the night...I didn't want to be alone...

"I should get going." He opened the front door and turned back to me. "Get some sleep."

"What, don't I get a goodnight kiss?" I pouted and he laughed nervously.

"Uh...Zoey, you're drunk, it wouldn't be fair. Maybe next time?" He smiled shyly, and I knew that he only said that to humour me.

"Yeah, maybe next time. Good night Bruce. Thanks."

"Good night, Zoey."

Silly Zoey. Hero Bruce. Lemme know what you think! ~Saskia xxx