This is from a list of prompts floating around Tumblr.
Prompt: You're Pretty - You're Drunk

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"You're pretty." Eddie reached out and bopped Chrissy lightly on the tip of her nose with a ringed index finger.

Chrissy let out an unladylike snort. "And you're drunk," she said, sliding her arm through the crook of his, helping him up and off the bar stool.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're beautiful."

She felt his eyes on her profile as, together, they walked toward the door. This wasn't anything new. Eddie came into the bar whenever he wasn't on tour with Corroded Coffin. As the band gained momentum, he came in less and less and she found herself missing him.

When he did come in, she, of course, was happy to see him. She liked it even more when he didn't get drunk. Life was stressful he said, more than he ever expected, playing in a traveling band. He didn't always get drunk but if he did Chrissy shuffled him off to her car and drove him home because there was no way she'd let him get behind the wheel even if he was only slightly buzzed.

She didn't mind taking him. They'd known each other since junior high (though she didn't remember that fact until he reminded her one fateful day during their senior year) and it was the least she could do for an old friend. She leaned him against the brick wall of the building, pointing a finger, she said, "Stay put." He'd taken off on her a few times in the past. So drunk he could hardly stand but the man could run like a bat out of hell. Laughing and screeching along the way.

Chrissy found this less than funny. Not wanting to risk him getting to his van and then trying to drive, she was given no other choice than to chase after him. Being that, she kept an eye on him as she locked the door.

"Ohh, I love it when you're assertive," he said with a sly smile, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the brick.

"Uh-huh. Yeah ya' do," she replied, slipping the bar's keys into her bag and taking him by the arm again, leading him to her car. Luckily his apartment wasn't too far away, she was tired and wanted to get some sleep before her morning class at the community college.

When she settled him into the passenger side, she rounded the hood and got behind the wheel. Within a few minutes, they were in front of his building. One of the nicest complexes in town, it was far off from the trailer he shared with Uncle Wayne growing up. Depending on the severity of his drunkenness, she sometimes helped him up to his apartment. Other times she sat in her car and waited as he stumbled through the front gate and into the entrance of the building. Watching through the large windows as he clumsily made his way up the stairs.

She killed the engine and pushed the plastic cover of the overhead dome light, illuminating the interior. "Do you need my help?" She asked. He squinted against the sudden brightness. Instead of answering her question, he looked at her with bleary, tired eyes. His dark chocolate penetrative scrutiny always made her feel a little weak.

There was kindness behind the tough rocker exterior he tried to maintain. She knew better, she knew who he was deep down inside. Still, she did her best to hide the way his gaze made her feel. She didn't have time to start anything up with anyone, Eddie Munson included. Not to mention she didn't think he was interested. He never treated her as anything other than a friend.

"Chrissy?" He mumbled.

"Yeah, Eddie?"

"You really don't know, do you?" He asked.

His sober tone caught her attention, and her hand stalled around the gear shifter. "Know what?" She asked.

His hand covered hers. "Just how beautiful you are."

She didn't know what to say to that. As if she wasn't already rendered silent, he released her hand and lightly caressed her jawline with his thumb. His soft touch made her want to moan. When was the last time she was touched in this way? Without force or any expectation behind it. When was the last time she was told she was beautiful?

She couldn't ever remember being called that. Jason hadn't been that type unless it served him in some sort of way. The couple of boyfriends she'd had since Jason were more interested in her body than anything else. Beautiful hadn't crossed their lips. Unexpectedly tears stung her eyes. "Don't say that."

"Why? He asked, brushing her hair away from her neck. "It's the truth. I always thought so. I was just too chicken shit to say it."

It was her turn to ask why. "Why were you too chicken shit? You can tell me anything. Then as well as now."

"Are you kidding me?" He scoffed. "Chrissy Cunningham. The queen of the fucking school."

God, she hated that nickname. The Queen of Hawkins High. It followed her to this day.

Eddie continued, "Girlfriend of Jason Carver. He'd remove my lungs with a spoon if he found out we hung out senior year. Imagine what he'd do if I hit on you."

She smiled, looking down at her hands tightly clasped together in her lap. She and Eddie had a lot of fun senior year without Jason even knowing they were friends. "What about now? Are you 'hitting' on me now?" She said using his word, wanting to sound sassy and confident but it came out a murmur of quiet desperation.

It'd been years since senior year and he was just now bringing this up? He was drunk. The question was just how drunk. Would his words mean nothing to him in the morning? Would he even remember saying them? And was she the kind of girl that melted at someone's feet just because they paid her a compliment?

This wasn't just somebody though. This was Eddie.

"It's getting more and more difficult to resist you," he answered honestly. More directly than she expected. "Your loyalty. Your kindness. Your beauty. I'm surrounded by people all the damn time. Sure, they act like they're my friends but they're not. They're interested in the band. In my success and where it might take them if they leech themselves onto me. But you, you've been there. A genuine friend."

"A friend?" She questioned.

"More than a friend." He said, nodding with certainty.

His admission made her breathless. "You're drunk," she whispered, repeating herself. It had to be the alcohol talking. Not how he actually felt.

"Maybe I am drunk," he said, leaning over the console, inches from her face. "Doesn't change what I feel for you."


Travelin' Band is a song by CCR