I don't own Night World.

Jez 15, Morgead 16.

Improbable

Vampires couldn't get drunk. It was common knowledge. Jez and her gang would even exploit that advantage sometimes to lure prey. Because of this, Jez knew the signs of drunkenness. She knew about the loss of common sense and balance, no longer filtering what was in her brain to control what came out of her mouth.

And as she tripped over for the hundredth time that evening, she began to wonder whether maybe something was wrong.

"Morgy?" she called out to her second-in-command, who was walking a few metres in front of her.

He didn't respond.

"Morgy!" she whisper-shouted. There were sleeping humans around, after all.

He still didn't respond.

Well, she had no choice now, did she? So Jez launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground.

"You were ignoring me!"

"Shut up, Jezebel."

Ooh, he hadn't even screamed. Probably 'cause he was a man. Men didn't scream, did they? She giggled to herself before answering. "Make me, Morgy."

"I told you not to call me that!"

Oh, now he was getting a bit hysterical. "What? You were ignoring me!"

"And again; shut up, Jezebel."

"What?"

"Shut up!"

Aha. Five more seconds and he'd be squealing like a girl. "Do you think there was something wrong with the vermin I just ate?" she asked.

"No, I think it's all you."

Jez bristled. "That was very rude to your majesty," she said pompously.

Morgead looked at her incredulously.

She sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. "Bow down to me, Morgy, or I'll make you walk the plank. I am captain of this ship, after all."

"What ship?"

"Do you remember that pirate ship game we used to play, Morgy?"

"No."

"Arr ye do, matey. Agree with me or it's to Davy Jones' locker with yeh, yeh scallywag!"

"What's a scallywag?"

"You."

"That doesn't explain anything."

"No?" Jez said wonderingly. Morgead got up. "Si'down," she ordered.

He watched her mutinously for a second, before sighing and sitting a couple of feet away from her.

"Well... being a scallywag means you're annoying, nowhere near as good-looking as you think you are, and you're a pervert."

"What?"

"Why do we walk on our feet and not on our heads?"

"Go ahead and walk on your head. See if I care," Morgead grumbled.

"What?"

"Right, I'm leaving. You can make your own way back." He stood up and gave her a strange look.

"Nooooo!" Jez shouted. She leapt forwards and grabbed hold of his legs so he couldn't leave.

"Let go of me, Jezebel!"

"I don't want you to go," she mumbled, pressing her face into his thigh.

"Oh, for..." he groaned and pushed her away. "Fine I'll stay."

"Thanks, Morgy," she said, wiping under her eyes."

"Were you crying?" he sounded appalled.

"Don't you think it's sad?"

He tore at the grass and glared moodily into the distance. "What?"

Jez leant forwards and put her hand on his shoulder. He frowned at her, his eyes distant. "We're not as close as we used to be," she murmured. He paused and gave a slightly rueful smile.

"We're just not little kids anymore, Jez."

She touched his cheek, and through the slight haze in her vision, saw his cheeks colouring, though his eyes remained impassive.

"That's a pity, don't you think?" she said, moving closer. Morgead leant back from her. "Morgead?" she asked, her voice hurt. He lifted up a hand and took hers away from his cheek, but she refused to let go of him. "I think we should have a really good talk," she said earnestly.

He snickered. "You're weird when you're drunk."

"Oh! So I am drunk," she said, grinning.

"Why do you want to be drunk so much?"

"To try it out." She giggled, rather unlike her. "You should too." She touched his lip with her index finger. "It's quite fun."

"Jez..."

"You know, you're actually quite beautiful."

"Jez..."

"You know, with your eyes. And everything always looks even better at night, don't you think?"

"Jez..."

"So much more... serene. And calm."

"Jez!"

"What?"

"It's just the junkie's blood talking. Snap out of it, will you?"

"Of course it's not the junkie's blood talking. I've always thought that you were beautiful."

"Will you get a grip, Jezebel?" he held onto her shoulders and forced her to look at him.

But she brushed his hands away and leant forwards again. She heard his breathing stop and a shocked expression broke through the impassive façade.

And at that point, it felt perfectly natural to just kiss him.

He jumped and froze for a second before pushing her away as soon as he regained control of his body.

"What?" she mumbled, pulling him back. "Relax," she whispered. She bit his lower lip quickly, smiling as she felt him tremble.

"Jez..." his voice was a warning.

"Relax," she said again, and she kissed him harder, smiling again as he started to respond, and soon enough he was the one holding her closer.

Something through the haze in her brain fought to get through, something like that it was wrong for her to be with him in this way.

Then she collapsed.

Jez woke up slowly, with a splitting headache that made her feel like someone was banging on her head with an axe.

"Mmph," she mumbled, rolling over onto her stomach and opening her eyes just a fraction, wincing as there was a knife-stab of pain through her head.

Wait a minute. What was she doing in Morgead's room? She sat up slowly, taking deep breaths and praying that she wouldn't throw up. She'd be the vampire in history to lose control that way.

Now. Focus. What the hell was she doing in Morgead's room? Worse, Morgead's bed? Not that he ever slept in it, but...

Okay, take it step by step. I went on a hunt with the gang, didn't I? She thought. Then... her head stabbed with pain again. "Urgh," she said, kneading her forehead. And then...

Her eyes widened. "Oh shit," she said aloud.

"Jez?"

She jumped about a mile into the air, and her head snapped to the door, where Morgead was standing with a glass of water, some painkillers and a rather amused expression.

"What? You... huh. Did...?" she trailed off and her cheeks coloured as she frowned at him. "You mention this to anyone and I kill you, got it?"

He ignored her. To be fair, though, she wasn't making much sense; it came out kind of garbled. "I brought you some painkillers, just in case it helps."

Jez cleared her throat, then groaned and pressed her palm against her forehead. "What happened?"

She felt one side of the bed dip down as Morgead sat next to her. "Go on," he said. "Take a pill."

"What happened?" she repeated, taking the glass of water from him.

"The junkie you had yesterday did something kind of... weird to you."

She blushed again, and ducked her head. Don't let him say anything about last night, she prayed, sipping her drink quietly.

"Does Bracken know I'm here?" she asked.

"Yes; I called him last night. Whilst you were dancing to an ABBA CD that you stole." He gave her a strange look.

Well, thank goodness she didn't remember that.

"Please don't mention that to the rest of the gang," she said, hating that she knew she would beg if he defied her.

"'Course not, Jez. But now I've got ammunition." He winked before getting up and slipping out the door. Jez bit back the insult she was sorely tempted to throw at him. If she were perfectly honest, she owed him for helping her out yesterday.

And now to sort through what happened last night. Okay, she went on a hunt. That part was fairly easy to remember. The human must have had something wrong with him. She... had a conversation with Morgead, though she couldn't exactly remember the details, and then...

She gasped. Oh no. Oh, please no.

I kissed him, didn't I? She thought to herself.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered quietly.

Well, at least she knew now never to drink someone's blood if they were drunk. Nothing was worth that.

And what was she going to do if he mentioned it?

She could pretend that she didn't remember, or accuse him of lying. Or run very quickly in another direction, making up some excuse.

Urgh. Since when did life become so complicated?