Prompt 13: Drunk Dialing
Rating: T+ for obvious alcohol use?
Modern AU

Bzzzzt… bzzzzt…

Dawn glanced down at her ringing cell phone with a puzzled look. The caller ID was displaying a number she'd never seen in her life. As far as she could tell, it was local. Her gut told her it was either a wrong number or a sales call, though it did seem a bit late for the latter. Tentatively, she lifted the phone and slid her finger along the touch screen to answer the call.

"This better not be some crazy person…" she muttered before putting the speaker up to her face. "Hello?"

"Heeeeey girrrrrrrl…"

Dawn smiled faintly. It wasn't just any crazy person. It was her crazy person. It wasn't unlike Cynthia to check in and see how she was doing when they were apart, but two things struck Dawn as odd at that moment. The first was that Cynthia had a stressful job and was usually out cold by that time of night. The second was the strange number. Why wasn't she on her cell phone?

"Heeeeey Cynthia," she mimicked playfully. "Are you calling from a payphone?"

"Yeah. And it's making my face feel… um… what's that word…? Sticky." Her words were slurred and the volume of her speech was inconsistent. She was clearly far from her right mind.

"Cynthia…" Dawn began, mentally connecting the dots. "Are you at a bar?"

Cynthia remained quiet on the other line for a moment before hiccupping shrilly. "Yes… but I'm eighteen, so it's okay."

Dawn pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're twenty-five, Cynthia."

It was not common for her girlfriend to drink, but when she did, she overdid it badly. She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment as she thought back to last year at her best friend Barry's Christmas party. Cynthia had indulged too heavily on the spiked egg nog and initiated a very unpleasant makeout session with Dawn in the bathroom. Some foreign guy named Brock (or maybe it was Brad) had walked in on them, commented on it being "hot," and walked out to tell his weird foreign friends what he'd just seen. Luckily, Barry himself never got wind of what had happened. Dawn knew if he had, she'd never be able to live it down.

"Anyway," Dawn continued, running a hand through her long black hair. "Are you calling because you need a ride home?"

"Whaaaaa?" Cynthia droned with indignant incredulity. "I was just calling to tell you I think you're cute… with your face and stuff."

Dawn held back a laugh. "Yeah, okay. I think you're cute with your face and stuff, too." Even at her lowest, Cynthia could make her smile. "But you have to work tomorrow, so I should probably pick you up. Which bar are you at? Flint's?"

"Uhhhhh…" Cynthia's voice faded out as if she were putting the phone down for a moment. "Well, the bartender has a Ronald McDonald afro… and there's a bored-looking blond guy who I think might be his boyfriend…"

Dawn nodded in understanding. "That's Flint's, alright. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

She heard Cynthia suppress a gag on the other line. "Can you bring a bucket with you?"

20 minutes later…

Dawn walked through the front door of Flint's, bucket in hand, mentally prepared for the worst. Their conversation on the phone hadn't left her with a way to gauge how drunk Cynthia actually was, so her having hit rock bottom wasn't out of the realm of possibility. She scanned the bar from left to right, finding no sign of her blonde girlfriend until…

"STOP ASKING ME FOR A BIG MAC! IT WASN'T FUNNY THE FIRST TIME!"

Dawn turned to the direction of the kerfuffle to see Cynthia seated at the bar with a huge grin on her face as Flint, the owner of the place, glared at her. Dawn knew Cynthia must have really made him mad, because his face was about the same color as his afro.

"Okay. Then I'll have a Shamrock Shake." Cynthia grinned conspiratorially. "Or are those not in season yet?"

The bored-looking blond man who Flint was always with yawned tiredly. "Not until March."

"Don't encourage her, Volkner!" Flint snapped.

Volkner shrugged. If there had been any change in his facial expression, it was too minor to notice. "Take a chill pill, Flint," he deadpanned. "After all, we love to see you smile."

Cynthia burst out into laughter at Volkner's remark. The expression on Flint's face suggested both of them were about to die a horrible death in fire. Before the bartender had the chance to make good on any malicious thoughts of that variety, Dawn rushed over and put her arm around Cynthia's shoulders.

"Time to go, hon," she said in an overly-cheery voice, tugging the blonde off the bar stool. "If you really want a Big Mac, we can stop at the drive-thru on the way home."

"Hey, you made it!" Cynthia turned toward Flint and Volkner with a smug smile. "I told you my girlfriend looks like Taylor Swift."

"She doesn't look anything like Taylor Swift…" Flint mumbled.

Cynthia scowled. "You want to get your butt kicked, Ronald?"

"It's fine, Cynthia," Dawn pushing her girlfriend a few steps toward the exit. "I really don't. Wait for me by the door, okay?"

"Okay, but I'm taking the bucket."

Once Cynthia was out of earshot, Dawn turned to Flint and Volkner with a sheepish expression. "Sorry about that," she muttered, placing some money in the tip jar. "She can be a little…"

"Insane in the membrane?" Volkner cut in.

"Over the cuckoo's nest?" Flint added.

The raven-haired girl rubbed the back of her neck embarrassedly. "Sometimes, I guess."

"It's all good," the blond man shrugged. He threw a quick glance toward Flint. "My bae is cray-cray too."

Flint groaned dramatically. "I asked you not to use that stupid tween slang anymore…"

"So I can't say your afro's 'on fleek?'"

Before Dawn could completely register what was happening, Flint and Volkner were entrenched in a fierce argument (though Flint was supplying most of the ferocity.) "I'm just gonna go now…" she whispered, leaving the boyfriends to their own affairs.

"You know something?" Cynthia hiccupped as her smaller girlfriend dragged her out of the bar and into the parking lot where her car was waiting. "I think Ronald and Volkner make a really good couple."

"Flint. And they do remind me of us a little," Dawn remarked, helping the blonde into the passenger seat. "By the way, what actually happened to your cell phone? If it's still in the bar I can go back and try to find it…"

Cynthia's facial expression suddenly turned deathly serious. "Leave it."

"Leave it?" Dawn repeated incredulously. "Are you sure?"

The blonde nodded, staring straight ahead with a determined glare. "I may have lost my phone tonight… but I found myself."

Dawn rolled her eyes and started the car. "I'd better not find a single drop of puke outside that bucket, Socrates."