Author's notes: This is the longest ficlet so far in this collection. I just had far too much fun writing it and it just kept on getting longer and longer. But yes, I thought the idea of "putting the moves on" somebody was very unlike these two very proper and traditional characters, so the only solution I could come up with was to get one of them drunk. Now, I don't have very much experience with alcohol, having never consumed any (even though I legally could have at any point in the last three and an half years, it just doesn't appeal to me) and having friends who largely don't drink very much, but I did once attend a friend's hen do which ended with said bride-to-be brandishing a watering-can for reasons best known to her(drunk)self.

As always, my thanks to reviewers, favouriters and alerters. Could you put your hand to the screen or something and pretend I'm high-fiving you? Awesome. :D

Chapter warnings: Drunkenness and a completely-honest Uryu. To be more specific, an handful of more adult references, some truly terrible flirting, and a case of TMI. Also warning for potential inaccuracies regarding the Japanese legal drinking age? For this ficlet, I'm assuming it's 18, like it is here in the UK, but I could be wrong.


Put the moves on


On reflection, Orihime wondered if maybe dragging Uryu out for his eighteenth birthday hadn't been such a great idea. After a few drinks, it had become apparent that his 'leave-me-alone' nature had resulted in a remarkably low tolerance to alcohol; she herself was no heavyweight by any means, but while she was merely buzzing slightly, desensitised by the odd night out with Tatsuki, her companion was clearly affected by the substance to a significant degree.

"You know," said Uryu, leaning against the pub table and waving an half-full glass of wine around absent-mindedly as his half-focussed eyes behind askew glasses found the ceiling of the dingy room. He was clearly having trouble remembering how to speak his mother-tongue, if his slurring was anything to go by. "You're really hot. Like, really. If you were a fire, you wouldn't even have a colour, because you're so hot and, er, oxygen-y, that there would be a complete reaction and no residual carbon plasma to glow." He set his glass down with a thump, and the transparent liquid sloshed over the side, splashing the grimy table. "Oops."

"All right," said Orihime, taking the glass from his hand and mopping up the spilled alcohol with a paper napkin she had found in a small stack at the bar. "I think it's probably time I got you home."

Uryu's dazed expression flickered with indignation. "But... but... but... I'm supposed to be the one walking you home! What sort of man leaves a beautiful girl to walk home on her own? You could be mugged, or murdered, or..."

"That's very chivalrous of you, but Tsubaki is more than up for the job," she replied, tapping a finger against her hair clip. "Besides which, if either of us is likely to get mugged, you're probably more of a target than I am right now." She stood up, guiding Uryu by the wrist, and he promptly proceeded to trip over the table leg. She caught him before he could hit the floor. "On second thoughts, perhaps I should stay with you tonight. Yes, I'll sleep on your sofa..."

Her friend responded with an uncharacteristic non-sequitor as she helped him out through the door and into the street. "I don't want to sleep with you," he said to the floor, giving his head a slight shake as Orihime raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I do, but you mean so much more than that and I respect you a lot and... wait, what was I saying?"

She blinked. "Uryu Ishida, are you trying to hit on me?"

A pause.

"Yes," he said, nodding in a slow, decisive manner.

Orihime couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. "You're completely smashed," she pointed out, as he staggered slightly ahead of her, barely able to walk straight.

He turned his head and veered sideways, the sudden change of direction nearly causing him to topple over. "Yeah..." he said, smiling weakly. "And you're completely gorgeous."

"I don't believe this," Orihime murmured, fighting back a smile and hurrying to catch up with Uryu before he could trip over a paving slab and break his nose.

The walk back to Uryu's flat was largely uneventful, aside from a minor incident in which Uryu confused a squirrel for an hollow in the park and required a bit of coaxing before he deigned to dismiss his bow, but Orihime was relieved when they finally reached his flat and he was safely through the door.

"Right," she said, shutting the door behind them and taking the keys from Uryu's hand after his third failed attempt at hanging them on a hook by the door. She breezed through into the kitchen and retrieved a bucket from under the sink, before taking a plastic tumbler from the cupboard (which was, after all, probably a better idea right now than glass), filling it with water from the tap, and handing it to Uryu. "Drink this, take the bucket, and then go to bed. I'll be on the sofa if you need me."

"I'll kip on the sofa," he proposed, gazing at Orihime with unfocussed eyes as he obediently sipped his water. "I mean, a pretty girl should have the bed, even though I'd feel really uncomfortable the next day knowing you had been in it..." He finished the water and set the tumbler down on the kitchen worktop before accepting the bucket from Orihime's hands.

She shook her head. "No, you should be in your most familiar spot if you wake up in the night. I'll find some paracetamol and leave more water for when you wake up."

Uryu tilted his head slightly sideways and smiled at her, before staggering towards the bathroom. "Thank you for looking after me. Now I'm going to have a good wee and go to sleep."

Well. That was really more than Orihime needed to know.

"You do that," she said.

He stopped just before reaching the bathroom. "Still," he said, giving her one last look. "I don't want to pressure you, but if you ever do feel like giving me a kiss, I'd be totally up for it."

He shut the door, and Orihime giggled. "Yeah, I'll let you know," she called through the door, before retreating back into the kitchen to look for the painkillers she knew he would need in the morning. "But there's probably no point if you'll have forgotten about it by tomorrow," she said, quietly, knowing full well that he couldn't hear her.