Thanks for all the feedback, 'tis funderful.

Sorry, it took so long to get this part posted, but my life got in the way, anywho, if feels weird, so I probably could have made it better, but meh, what're you gonna do?

And once more, the lyrics at the beginning are from the Linkin Park song "Faint".

Chapter 11c

I can't feel the way I did before,
Don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored
Time won't heal this damage anymore

Cont.

For the first time in four years her lips are on my own once more and my stomach is swiftly dropping to my ankles, hurrying past my knees to make them weak. Her lips are hungry and her tongue is urgent, her fervent kiss needing my slow response, urging me to match her need. To mirror her haste. And I oblige, how can I not?

I let her kiss me and she lets me kiss her back, my tongue rolling over her own, my hands finding her hips as hers find the back of my neck, tugging my head closer to her own. Ashley's assaulting my senses and all I can do is push her body away from my own, my mouth disengaging, my hands breaking our embrace.

She looks confused as she ducks her head, trying to bring our mouths back together, wanting to reunite our tongues. I push her away again, and through her hooded-eyes she's asking me what the hell's going on.

Licking my lips, I start to guide her to my bed, and she grins at me, but she doesn't realize why. I quickly turn my bedside light on as I sit her down on the soft mattress and her hands grip my arms, trying to tug me down, urging me to join her. Sighing heavily, I sit next to her, our bodies angled towards each other. She tries to kiss me, again and I push her away, again. She frowns at me, her fingertips dancing over my thighs, her frown turns into a grin as her fingers dance higher, and higher, before I push her hands away and grab a hold of her wrists, stopping her from repeating her actions. She frowns once more and I lick my lips again, the unmistakable taste of whiskey lingering on the tip of my tongue.

I smile weakly at her, and push a stray stand of hair behind one of her ears as my other hand still grips at her wrists, "What are you doing here, Ashley?" I ask and she giggles.

"Trying," she pauses to giggle again and tug her wrists from my grasp, "To bed you!" she makes another attempt at kissing me again, her body rocking forward with the effort.

I push her shoulders back and let my hands linger, my fingertips steadying her wavering form, keeping her from rocking backwards on the bed and hitting her head against the wall. "Well here we are." I mutter, not really wanting to be the on the receiving end of Ashley's drunken advances.

"You're right!" She giggles again. Why do drunken people giggle so much? The world is not that funny.

"But I want to sex you up! Haha, sexing my little Spencie-Wencie up!" normally this would be endearing, but…. actually scratch that, this would never be endearing. If she was sober and actually wanting to get jiggy with it, then it would be brilliant, probably. But drunk Ashley, making clumsy attempts to get down with her bad self? Not so brilliant.

"How did you get here?"

"M'walked." She announces proudly, thumping a hand against her chest.

I sigh, picking myself off of the bed, I go over to a chest of draws, just left of my wardrobe, and pull out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, or as I call them; pyjamas. "Take your clothes off."

She grins at me and starts trying to shed her garments, finding that she's lost the dexterity required to undress I go back over to the bed, to help. My hands shaking more and more with every second that passes.

Her top comes off with ease and I instantly look away from her bare chest, thrusting the large t-shirt at her, my cheeks burn a violent shade of red as I hear her fumbling with the top. Before long she giggles out, "Done!" and I turn back towards her, clocking the t-shirt that she's now wearing is back-to-front. I refrain from sighing again and coax her arms back into the t-shirt, before spinning it around and helping her push her arms through the sleeves once more.

I help her to her feet and we somehow manage to get her skirt 'round her ankles and the boxers on. With Ashley giggling all the while.

She smiles a confused smile at me and plonks back down on the bed, as I take her shoes off, and swing her legs onto the mattress. With her head on the pillow, she rolls onto her side to regard me, "You have pretty eyes."

"You too." I murmur pulling the duvet cover over her slender body.

I tell her I'll be right back and go back downstairs, firstly going to the front door and re-locking it, then venturing into the kitchen. I turn the lights on and let out a long sigh, immediately going to the skink, grabbing the empty washing up bowl from within, I then root around underneath for the first aid box.

I throw a box of Paracetamol into the bowl I fill a glass with water. Running a shaky hand through my tousled hair, I ignore the pangs in my chest as I make my way back upstairs. Loathing drunk people.

She's already asleep by the time I set the water and painkillers down on the bedside table. I leave the plastic bowl by the bed and grab two spare blankets from my wardrobe, laying one down by my computer, I ease my body onto it and pull the other over myself.

Yawning I look over at Ashley, her face illuminated by the light near her head, I silently wish her a good night and try to get to sleep myself.

I wake up, and slam my eyes shut, confused as to why there's now a light next to my bed, my memory starts to return and I realize that I'm in Spencer's bed, all snuggled up under her covers. Mmm.

My bladder quickly reminds me of why I woke up in the first place and I reluctantly open my eyes and tiptoe to the nearest loo, reminding myself all the while to be as quiet as humanly possible, not wanting to disturb any slumbering Carlins.

I wash my hands as I yawn deeply and loudly, the alcohol that remains in my system telling me to go back to sleep. I nod at myself in the mirror and tiptoe back the way I came, softly shutting Spencer's bedroom door behind myself. She's left me out some water and painkillers. Pointlessly really, but she doesn't know I don't get hangovers; she's a sweetheart anyway.

Spencer's on the floor. Even though there's enough room for the both of us in her bed, Spencer's on the floor. I inch over to her and gently pull her to her feet, as she half-wakes up, muttering incoherent broken thoughts, she rests her weight against my body and I practically carry her over to the bed and lay her in it, as gently as I can. I think she's already asleep again.

She emits a contented sigh as her body hits the warm mattress and I quickly snuggle up to her, pulling the duvet back over our bodies. I turn the light off and spoon her, our bodies fitting together like jigsaw pieces, and before long her soft snores ease me back to sleep.