Tucker watched, fascinated and unable to move, as Jazz slowly stretched. She twisted this way and that, yawned and even arched her back, causing the blanket that had been modestly covering her to slip, revealing the skin that Tucker had ran his tongue over last night. Jazz let out a groan and flung her hand to the side, her wrist colliding uncomfortably with his rib. Her face deepened into a frown and she cracked her eye open, turning to look at him.

She studied him for a moment, eyes bloodshot and ringed with smeared eyeliner, mascara and eye shadow.

"Jazz?" He finally prompted, when she appeared frozen in her state of shock.

"Oh God," she moaned, and then she was falling over the side of the bed, grabbing his trashcan.

Tucker winced as he heard her begin to throw up. He pulled his sheet into his hand and draped it over her body, bending to rub her between the shoulder blades.

"I have never had that much to drink," Jazz whined. "Ever. Oh, God. I'm going to die."

"It's okay," Tucker murmured. "It's just a hangover."

"No," Jazz argued. "It's not just a hangover. We're both naked and we had sex last night and I have a boyfriend and I feel really sick and nothing is okay."

"Breathe," Tucker instructed, unsure of when he became the one to keep a level head. "It's okay. We're both still drunk. We can think better about this later."

Never mind the fact that his head was still pounding so badly, he doubted 'think' would be available for the next few days.

"I have to go," Jazz announced suddenly. "Where's my dress?"

"Uh, still at the bottom of the bed?" Tucker guessed. "But, Jazz, you can't leave."

"Why not?" She replied, indignant. She tottered past him, unsteady on her legs.

"Because we're still drunk." Tucker reminded her.

He sunk down onto the edge of the mattress and watched Jazz sort out her dress from the tangle of blankets at the end of the bed. She finally freed the white garment and went to drop the sheet she was holding around herself, when she turned to face him.

"A little decency please?" She gasped.

Tucker responded with an exasperated look. He gestured to his lower half, where he wasn't wearing any clothing to speak of, leaving all of his body free for her to scrutinize. "We are way past decency, here."

Jazz rolled her eyes, turned her back on him and dropped the sheet. She began to organize the folds of her long dress when Tucker began to laugh at her. Feeling self-conscious, Jazz asked, "What?" while continuing to pull her dress over her head. She didn't know where her underwear had ended up; she didn't think she'd worn a bra over last night.

"You can't get mad at me," Tucker warned.

"Uh, I think I'm already mad at you – the jury's still out – so, what is it?"

"I think I managed to leave a hickey on your butt."

"You're joking," Jazz said flatly.

"I wish I was that funny." Tucker snickered.

"Apparently, you are." Jazz groaned. "I have to go find my brother."

"Just a sec," Tucker said. He reached to the floor, grabbing boxers and jeans and pulling them on. "I gotta go take a good look at the disaster zone that was my house."

As soon as they stepped outside of the door, they were confronted with mountains of red plastic cups and sleeping bodies. It's true what they say: drunk people can, and will, fall asleep anywhere. Carefully, Tucker and Jazz picked their way down the stairs. Tucker was keeping an eye out for anything important that was either broken or still in jeopardy, while Jazz was inspecting every face she knew for her brother.

"He's not up here," Tucker told Jazz, speaking in a low tone so he didn't rouse any of the sleeping teenagers.

"Then where is he?" Jazz responded.

"He's on the cot, in the basement, under the stairs, naked with Sam."

"Okay, that's gross."

"I just wanted to be truthful!" Tucker snickered. "You can't get anywhere near him, by the way. The door is hidden behind a mountain of junk; he phases through it."

"That's convenient," Jazz muttered.

"Yeah," Tucker replied. "Come on, we'll make coffee, see if we can perk you up."

They slipped into the kitchen, which was devoid of drunken sleepers and a lot of mess. Tucker, who had been thinking the night before, had cleared the kitchen out of all food, putting anything edible in the living room so that there was one less room he was accountable for cleaning in the morning. He pulled the coffee out of the bottom cupboard and began to set up the machine.

"Are you not hung over?" Jazz inquired.

She was slumped against the island, watching Tucker buzz around the kitchen. Usually, she was the one acting like that. Usually, she was the one bouncing around, keeping up a conversation early in the morning while her hung over little brother hid his head in his arms against the island at FentonWorks. Right now, she was feeling so far from her early-rising, chipper self. She felt like she had been run over with a truck; her head was pounding away. She'd never lost control like that. One thing Jazz had always prided herself on was her ability to stick to having one drink, even while everyone around her was getting drunk. She wasn't sure what had happened last night to make her let go of it.

"I'm hung over," Tucker answered. "But I know how to function."

"I've never been hung over before." Jazz revealed.

Tucker barked out a laugh. "Are you serious?"

"I've never been drunk before," Jazz exclaimed as Tucker slid into the island seat beside her, handing her a mug. She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic and took a long drink of her coffee. Black, just how she liked it.

"Wow, so my Halloween party stole your drunk virginity," Tucker grinned.

"Uh-huh," Jazz murmured, and then announced, "I need my phone."

"Where'd you leave it?"

"I don't know," Jazz whined. "I just need my phone so I can call Kevin and get home."

The name 'Kevin' hung between them and made the air seem heavy. Tucker had forgotten about Kevin, or had forcibly blocked him out. He and Jazz shouldn't have slept together, for a multitude of reasons. It was even worse to remember that she had a boyfriend; she had someone to be faithful to. Tucker didn't necessarily like Kevin, but he knew that it wasn't fair to him. There was a lot to be said about alcohol and released inhibitions, but when it came down to the nitty gritty, Tucker knew that there were plenty of moments where he could have – and should have – sat back and realized that they were making a mistake. He could have walked away, he just didn't.

"I don't know where I left it," Jazz continued freaking out.

"You can use the house phone," Tucker offered. "We can look for your phone while he comes over."

"Okay," Jazz agreed.

Tucker picked up the house phone and handed it to her. Jazz took it from him and began to dial as he walked out of the room, off to both look for her phone and assess the damage the party had done.

Jazz couldn't help but turn in her seat to watch him walk away. She slid her gaze over the earthy planes of his shoulders, making a face as she realized there were scratch marks extending all the way down his back. She looked down at her hands, as if she would be able to physically see Tucker's skin under her nails. As the phone began to ring, unbearably loud in her opinion, Jazz drained the last of her coffee and slumped against the island.

What did she do last night?

"Kevin speaking."

"Hi," Jazz breathed, her throat suddenly clogging up at the sound of her boyfriend's voice. "Did I wake you?"

"It's nine-thirty, Jasmine. You know I don't sleep in."

"Right, sorry. I haven't looked at a clock yet this morning," Jazz responded.

"You sound off," Kevin observed. "Did you drink too much last night?"

"Uh-huh," Jazz mumbled, because it wasn't a lie. "I know you're busy studying, but can you come pick me up?"

"Absolutely," Kevin said quickly. "I'm due to have a break anyway. Want me to pick you up something to eat on the way over?"

"No, thank you. Please, just get here quickly."

"I'm leaving now. Goodbye."

"Bye," Jazz murmured, and clicked off the phone.

As she sat Tucker's house phone down, her cell phone appeared at her side. Jazz picked it up and clicked it on. She had seventeen e-mails, six text messages, three missed calls, two Facebook notifications, and 1% battery. She groaned and put her phone down, deciding she would deal with it later. Later, likely meaning tomorrow. She knew that she would be useless the rest of the day, and it was an unfamiliar feeling.

She heard Tucker take the seat next to her again, but she couldn't bear to move; to see him. She didn't want to look at Tucker when she could hear Kevin's voice ringing in her ears; didn't want to look at Tucker when she could feel the weight of her mistake to the depths of her soul. Jazz would like to pretend she didn't make a lot of mistakes, and through her perfectionist urges, she often didn't. And what little mistakes she did make, often got lost in the mess of Danny's. There was, however, no downplaying this. There was no ignoring the fact that she'd had sex with someone who wasn't her boyfriend, and that she'd hurt that boyfriend in the process. It didn't matter that Kevin didn't know what had happened yet; she just knew what he was going to be like when he found out.

"I want to know what we're going to do," Tucker said quietly, interrupting Jazz's spiraling thoughts.

"Do?" Jazz barked. "What do you mean?"

"I meant what are you going to do, I guess. I mean, you're going to tell him, right?"

"I…I have to. It wouldn't be right not to." Jazz realized, "But, I'm not going to say who."

Surprise lit up Tucker's features. "Even if he asks?"

"I don't want that part to get back to Danny. That wouldn't end well for either of us."

Tucker recognized the wisdom in her words. "Look, Jazz, I'm so sorry this happened. It shouldn't have. I don't know what happened last night for us to end up there, but I know it shouldn't have."

With some humour in her voice, Jazz responded, "It takes two to tango."

"I-"

"Kevin's here," Jazz interrupted, looking down at her phone, her phone displaying the final text message from Kevin before giving into its dying battery. "I'm gonna go. I guess I'll just see you around, then."

"Yeah," Tucker said.

He walked her to the door and watched her go to the car. He tried not to look at the silhouette sitting in the driver's seat; tried not to think of all the consequences that last night would eventually bring.

(-.-)

To Kevin's credit, he didn't say a word as Jazz dropped heavily into the car, closing the door as quietly as possible. He simply started the car up again and began to drive. Jazz leaned her head against the cool car window and closed her eyes. Her thoughts began to wander. She thought of Kevin, who was too good for her. She thought of all the mistakes she had so valiantly tried to avoid making, and, eventually, she thought of last night. She thought of how she'd ended up at this morning, naked, with a naked man beside her.

(-.-)

"You're too drunk," Jazz accused.

Tucker rolled a dark finger around the rim of his cup, lifting his deep green eyes to her. "Or," he proposed, his words slurring letting Jazz know that, no matter what he said next, she was right, "you're too sober."

"There's no such thing!" Jazz laughed. "Sober is an excellent state to be in."

"But it's a party. Don't you ever loosen up?"

"Are you calling me boring?" Jazz demanded, slightly scandalized.

"Maybe," Tucker drawled.

He lunged forward, his white doctor's coat flapping around. He grabbed Jazz's cup out of her hand, and then took her hand. He led Jazz over to the drink table and slammed the plastic down, picking up the vodka he'd witnessed her sampling earlier.

"Not so much! What do you think I am, an alcoholic?" Jazz admonished, seeing him fill up her cup. He picked up some lemonade and dumped it in.

"No," Tucker frowned at her. "Why? Are you an alcoholic?"

"I think the better term for me is lightweight," Jazz explained. One of the reasons she'd always tried to stay away from drinking is because she wasn't someone who held their liquor well – it all went straight to her head.

"So chug," Tucker instructed.

"Hell no," Jazz exclaimed. She was about to say more, when someone came crashing into the back of her, causing her drink to fly forward, dousing Tucker's white coat in vodka and lemonade.

"Hi, Jazz," Danny greeted, unaware of the mess he just made. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jazz answered, trying to untangle his arms from around her waist. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Unfortunately, not enough to pass out," Sam muttered, coming onto the scene. "We're in the cuddly phase of intoxication."

"I love you too, Tucker!" Danny announced suddenly, leaping from his sister to his best friend. "You're the best friend in the entire world."

"Just don't try to kiss me," Tucker replied. He glanced at Sam, and then asked Danny, "What about Sam? Don't you love her?"

"Urgh, no, I just got him off me –" Sam began, but Danny had already pounced. "I love you, Sam. You're my favouritest girlfriend ever."

"Favouritest isn't a word," Jazz pointed out at the same time Sam said, "I better be your only girlfriend."

"I love you," Danny repeated.

"Let's go down to bed," Sam suggested. "And get you pumped full of water."

"See you tomorrow morning!" Tucker shouted after them.

"Afternoon!" Sam corrected as they disappeared.

"So," Jazz glanced at him, and then her voice became victorious, "Since you're wearing my drink, guess I won't have to consume it."

"Don't think you're getting off that easily," Tucker warned her. "I'll just mix you another."

He turned around to look at the drink table, but there was no vodka left. Sheepish, he turned to face her and asked, "Will beer do?"

Jazz shook her head. "Nope. Guess you're out of luck there, Tucker."

She turned to head toward the dance floor when Tucker caught her hand. "Don't speak so rashly, Ms. Fenton."

Jazz locked her fingers around his as he tugged her away from the drink table, toward the stairs. She followed him up to the next level of the house, although confusion fully set in when he pulled her into her bedroom. He let go of her fingers in the doorway, and Jazz found herself missing the warmth of their palms laced together. She leaned against the wall next to door while Tucker flung open his closet door. As he searched, someone poked their head around the door, startling Jazz.

"Bathroom?" She squeaked.

"Next door to the left," Jazz responded, feeling her heart rate begin to slow as the girl disappeared.

"Close the door, would you?" Tucker requested. "I don't want drunkards thinking they're allowed in my room."

Dutifully, Jazz swung the door shut as Tucker emerged from his closet, a vodka bottle in his hands. "Shots, shots, shots," he chanted, shimmying across his bedroom floor in time with the blasting music.

"That's a bad idea," Jazz informed him.

"Mmm," Tucker mused, green eyes settling on hers. "Good idea."

He twisted the top off the bottle and then, with slightly shaking hands, poured vodka into the cap. "Ladies first," he said, presenting her with the makeshift shot.

Jazz took the shot from his hand, not entirely sure what she was planning on doing with it. Phrases like "don't give into peer pressure" were running around her mind and she knew that she shouldn't. She knew, somewhere inside herself, that taking this shot from Tucker was a bad idea, because it would lead her to places she didn't want to go. She flicked her eyes up to Tucker, to tell him this, but there was something about his green eyes, the high planes of his cheekbones, and the way he was looking at her that convinced Jazz to take the shot. It burnt all the way down to the pits of her stomach, and continued downward.

Tucker chuckled and then poured her another.

"One was enough!" She protested.

"Uh…How about one for every year old you are?"

"No way," Jazz protested. She was not taking nineteen more shots. She'd be dead before she hit her fifth birthday.

"Well, this one's already poured," Tucker reasoned. "Can't let it go to waste."

Jazz took the second shot, already feeling her mind beginning to fog. Tucker poured her a third shot and slid it into her hand.

"Last one," she warned, and took it.

"Don't be a killjoy," Tucker taunted, unreasonably close to her.

Jazz looked at him, trying to think of something more than "I'm not a killjoy"to say to him, but all she could think about was how old Tucker looked – he certainly wasn't a little kid anymore – and she was also thinking that, along with this new grown up look, there was something attractive about him. Though she wouldn't admit to it later, Kevin's name didn't cross her mind in that breathless moment that she and Tucker stared at one another. It was this moment, Jazz thought later, that could have gone either way. This was the moment where they either walked away and rejoined the party or it went further than either of them intended to.

It went further.

The fervent moment shattered, and suddenly, they were touching one another. Jazz didn't know if she moved first or if he had moved first. All she knew was that she wanted to feel him closer. Their lips met and Jazz felt her heart leap in her throat. His hands were gripping her hips, leaning her backward into the wall for support. Jazz had her arms around his neck, but as she stumbled backward a step, feeling the wall against her back, one hand slipped to hold onto the top of his shoulder, and her other hand scratched down his back. He kissed her and Jazz dug her fingers into his back, feeling dizzy in the best way. One of his hands wandered from her hip, up to her shoulder, suggestively brushing her chest on its journey. He toyed with the strap to her dress and then begin to push it down to her shoulder.

Jazz ducked away from his lips for a brief second, kissing below his ear and saying, "Walls aren't my style."

She didn't know if she actually had a style, but she knew walls didn't qualify.

Before Jazz could process what was happening, Tucker had picked her up. A noise escaped from her lips, her legs automatically going around his waist, just in case his grip on her was to fail. She kissed him enthusiastically as he carried her to the bed. He continued to kiss her as he laid her down on the bed. Jazz felt her breath catch as he pulled back from her a little. He looked so … Un-Tucker like, as he leaned over her, and she almost couldn't believe she was doing this. But she also could believe that she was going through with this. She, inexplicably, wanted him.

And, so, she reached up and snatched the front of his doctor's coat to pull him further over her. She then began to slide the lab coat back over his shoulders. Tucker began to shrug the rest of the lab coat away from himself, and Jazz went after the white shirt that he was also wearing, feeling that he shouldn't be wearing it anymore. When she finished with the last of the buttons, Tucker tore the shirt off, although he left his black tie on. Jazz hesitated a moment, wondering what her next move should be, when Tucker seized control. He snaked his arms around her back and lifted her, his hands groping across her back to grab the zipper at the back of her dress. As the dress loosened around her body, Jazz slipped her arms out of the straps and began to work the dress away from her body, until she was able to kick free of it completely.

She now had nothing on but her white panties – there had been no need to wear a bra with the dress. She was more vulnerable in front of Tucker than she had ever anticipated on being, and she felt her entire body tighten with the thrill of it. Tucker let out a heavy breath and then he kissed her. Jazz felt her hips arch to meet his and his hand came to her breast, teasing her gently. Jazz couldn't help but moan as he touched her, her fingers scraping down his back again. She continued from his shoulder blades, down his spine, until she touched his pants.

Tucker shifted, his head dropping down to her chest, his mouth moving across her nipple. And, though it was incredibly hard to concentrate, Jazz moved her hands to the front of his pants so that she could access his button and zipper. She undid the front of his pants and slid her hand in through his fly and into his underwear, brushing down the hair on his groin until she could wrap her hand around him. He groaned, his mouth vibrating around her breast, and his hips thrust into her hand.

He moved away from her slightly in order to take off the rest of his clothing. Jazz then returned her hand to Tucker's groin again, moving her hand slightly. Tucker bit his lip and then looked down at her again, focusing on her. He took his hand to her hip, running his finger against the line of her underwear. Jazz couldn't help but feel anticipation and tension begin to coil in her stomach. She wanted his hands on her and she didn't want to wait.

Tucker seemed to sense her frustration. He pulled her panties off her hips, down over her thighs. Jazz used her feet to move her underwear away from her completely and then she spread her legs for him, inviting his touch. He obliged, his hand moving between her thighs. She could feel the heat of his flesh as he pushed a finger inside of her and she couldn't keep in her squeak of pleasure as he also began to move his thumb against her clit. She moved her hips in rhythm with his hand. She tucked her head into his neck, and bit and sucked at his skin until she felt herself begin to peak.

"H-h-holy," She managed, "T-Tucker!"

Even as the intensity of her orgasm began to subside, Jazz could still feel her legs shivering and quaking as Tucker kept his hand between her thighs, moving his fingers against her.

"Tucker?" She asked, needing to feel him inside of her completely.

"Yeah?" He answered, kissing her.

"Do you have something?" Jazz murmured against his lips.

He squinted at her for a moment, and Jazz feared that the answer would be no, until he nodded at her. He rolled away from her, and Jazz immediately missed his presence; his body pressed tightly up next to her own. He moved onto his back, fingers fumbling with a condom wrapper. Jazz rose onto her knees, taking the condom out of his hands and into her own. Quicker than he would have been able to, she undid the condom wrapper and slid it over him. And then, with a grin, Jazz tossed one leg over him so that she was hovering above his body. She reached down so that she was grasping him, and then she moved herself down, finally feeling him inside of her.

I don't own anything recognizable!

~TLL~