"The Drunken Scotsman"
By: Princess Sassafras
Characters: Ewan, Hayden, Others
Notes: I got the inspiration for this piece from a Scottish ditty I downloaded the other night…I have NO IDEA where it came from! But it was hilarious! And it made me think immediately of Ewan! Sorry ladies, this is NOT slash! Maybe later... This takes place in some bar, somewhere in America.
Ewan was so drunk he could barely make out what was written on each of the beer taps—all in a lovely row—in front of him. It had been a hell of a night, to say the least, and he could hear Hayden giggling across the way as the extremely dominant brunette he was with did…whatever it was she was doing. Young and gorgeous, and shy, Hayden got a lot of women. But Ewan wasn't perturbed. After all, he had someone waiting for him at home.
A crazy night, to say the least…someone's birthday, though he couldn't remember whose it had been. He wore one of his kilts for the occasion, a white button-down oxford shirt, and a pair of new black Adidas sneakers. Fun with the boys was his agenda, for…what woman did he need to impress anyhow?
He had passed shit-faced about half a mile back, and, feeling a bit transfixed by all those dancing lights on the back wall, he slid in and out of reality. It's time to go, something told him. You'll pass out soon, Ewan, and you do NOT want the boy driving you home!
Ewan stumbled to his feet, clutching the bar top as he tried not to sway. As soon as he felt stable enough, he began the endless trek towards the crowded exit. As he passed Hayden and his glittering clutch of girls, the younger man raised his arm. "Off already? Let me call a cab!"
"No thanks, man. I've got it!" Ewan shook his head, trying his best to smile, and continued onward, hoping sincerely that he could find the hotel from where they were.
The air was warm and thick when he stepped outside, and he soon lost himself amidst the jostling throng of club-goers. Suddenly he felt very, very dizzy.
In a panic—for who wants to fall down in a drunken stupor on a crowded sidewalk, especially if they're famous—he veered for some bushes behind the nearest establishment and promptly knelt in the grass. He clutched his spinning head.
All faded to stars, and then to black.
A group of chattering girls were passing by, and they went to sit on an empty bench by the sidewalk (the one in front of the bushes behind which Ewan was sprawled). After a few minutes, one of the girls got up to throw her KFC cup in the garbage bin to the left of the bench. She gasped, and then she let out a half-shocked-half-delighted howl. "Jessie, there's a man in a kilt back here! On the ground! Oh my God!"
"What the hell?"
Her four friends came and gathered around the fallen Scotsman, all fighting fits of hysteria. One girl, named Beth, was very sympathetic. "Poor man! Seems as if he's passed out! He'll have a terrible headache in the morning!"
"He's very handsome, isn't he? Aside from the fact that he's wearing a kilt…"
"I think it's dead sexy! Is he really European, do you think?"
"I have no idea. Either that or a costume party…or he's special, in the head."
The girl who had been wondering aloud if Ewan were, in fact, European got a devilish gleam in her eye. "I wonder if it's true they don't wear anything under those?"
"Oh, Ally, shut up!"
More hysteria ensued. Perhaps it was a very good thing they DID NOT know that the man on the ground was Ewan McGregor, or they might have all died from shock or glee.
"I want to find out!"
"Ally, DON'T!" The girls all squealed as Ally took off her shoe.
She was a very adventuresome girl, and with the end of her stiletto she lifted Ewan's kilt—just a few inches—in order to see whether or not he was wearing any underwear. He wasn't.
Mass hysteria. "Lord!" cried Krystal. "Isn't he blessed!"
"Damn."
"Well, girl, I hope you're happy! Now we know he's not wearing anything under there…what are you gonna do, take a picture?"
The gleam in the girl's eye intensified. "Nope. I've got a better idea! Liz, give me your hair ribbon!"
"What for?" sulked Liz, clutching one of her elaborately braided pigtails.
"Oh, you hate them, you just wore them because Billy likes blue, and he wasn't even there! So hand it over…"
"Oh, all right…" Liz slid one of the ribbons out of her hair.
After a few long moments of crouching and fumbling and giggling, the girls scampered away.
A few hours later Ewan woke up. He felt a little sick, but mostly he felt the intense need to relieve himself. He thought for a minute that he was going to fall down again—he was swaying from side to side—but he soon realized that someone was shaking him.
It was Hayden, and there was a group of men with him. They were friendly acquaintances from the bar. "Ewan, man, what the hell? Thank God we found you! You could have been robbed!" He sounded concerned.
"Shit!" Ewan rubbed his eyes, hard.
"He sounds like he's waking up!" One of the men commented, and then he sniggered. In fact they all seemed to be sniggering at something.
"Hayden, can you help me up before I piss myself?" Ewan tried to grin as Hayden helped him up, but he shrugged the younger man off when he tried to help him walk. He had no qualms about moseying right on over to the bushes and having a go. And he wasn't worried about anybody seeing anything…he'd never had any worries in that area. The sniggering got louder.
"What the hell's so funny?" Ewan half-muttered-half-slurred as he lifted his kilt to relieve himself.
The sniggering behind him burst into all-out laughter. Several men fell to their knees in mirth. He heard someone drop a bottle.
Though his fingers were mostly numb, he did feel that something was down there…that wasn't supposed to be. He squinted at it in the lamplight and saw a shock of blue tied in a bow. Some of the men were standing to his left where they could see exactly what he hoped they weren't seeing.
Suddenly, one of the braver ones shouted: "Hey, Ewan, I don't know what you were playing out here, but it looks like you've won first prize!"
Ewan blushed and grimaced, but that soon turned into a grin.