Fire
He doesn't let her drink anymore, because every time she does, she seems to have the uncontrollable urge to pour a bucket of water on his head.
SPLOOSH!
"What the hell was that for?" he demands angrily, swiping at the icy cold dribbling down the back of his neck.
"To put out the fire," she explains solemnly, the bucket dangling from one hand as she watches water dripping steadily from his hair, drenched and drooping sadly. "If you have to use hair gel, you should use a less flammable kind."
Yeah; not his idea of a good time. Figures that he had to hook up with a silly drunk instead of a sexy drunk.
But she doesn't seem inclined to drink anymore, anyway, and he's glad. He doesn't know which would be worse: arguing with her about something stupid, or ending up with a bucket of water on his head, followed by the mess they somehow end up making when he chases her around the room with a cordless hair dryer, shouting I thought you were frozen!
End Notes: Blech. This one didn't translate well into a sorta-drabble. Oh, well. It was still kinda cute.