Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom – I never have and I never will, simple as that. All of that amazing creative talent goes to Butch Hartman. Nickelodeon just sucks, I'm sorry (no, I'm not).

Author's Note: Since these are just going to be drabbles, this challenge will be updated sporadically, with no set limit or deadline. They'll generally be one page long or however the hell long I feel like writing something. This challenge is for 25foods, and there are a various array of foods to choose from, so this challenge will be nothing less than interesting. I hope you enjoy, and I hope that you continue to come back for more!

Please, review when you're done! Reviews make me more eager to write, as I'm sure many other authors here would agree. You don't want me to beg, do you? Reviews make the world go 'round, my friend.

There's a bit of smut in this one, as to be expected with the prompt. Nothing too graphic, though. By the way, take the poll on my author page. ;)

008: Wine

Rating: Light R

Theme: 015. Wine

November 24, 2007

"I don't know," he replied. When it came to her demeanor, she was absolutely polite and regal, showing her utmost nurturing and diplomatic sides. However, with the best laid plans, things tend to... go askew. Especially when wine was involved.

If Sam had an Achilles heel of alcohol, it would most certainly have been wine. One glass poured into another, and another, and yet another, and by the time the night was through, he felt like being around her dissipated his inhibitions as if he was drunk along with her. He, however, had to play the hero, refusing to drink more than a glass just so he could look out for his wife. She didn't have a problem; on the contrary, it was rather amusing to watch every so often.

The amount of wine she took in depended whether or not the function was family or work related, though. If one could assume, the family-related functions tended to need more.

The first time he came into contact with Sam and her wine was while they were dating, as teenagers.

Ever since the incident where he flew naked through town at night, he refused to drink enough to make him forget his clothes somewhere and proudly display what Sam was so protective over.

She had begged him to be her guest of honor at a party her parents were holding for the sake of having a large gathering of people admire their home. At first he had been hesitant due to how much her parents still didn't like him that much, but after much begging, pleading, and promises of her making it worth his while, he gave in. He could never say "no" to her, he realized.

At the beginning of the event, she had been diplomatic enough for him to second guess her actions for ulterior motives, but he was later told she had promised to "play nice" if they, in turn, showed the same respect for him. He smiled.

After about half of the night had passed, however, Danny noticed that she wasn't entirely herself. The glass she was holding in her hand always seemed to be full, even though he knew she continuously drank from it.

"Come with me to get something out of the hall closet?" she asked, a smile gracing her features. Her cheeks were deliciously flushed, and if it weren't for her parents' constant vigilance, he would've kissed her every chance he got.

He nodded in response, putting down his glass, and followed her. As she walked in front of him, he allowed his eyes to rake up and down her form; it wasn't all that often that he was able to see her in a dress–this dress fell under the "little black dress" category he heard so much about from movies. He appreciated every inch of it.

As she pulled the door open, she smiled courteously and gestured for him to enter before her, graciously extending her hand for emphasis. He figured that her closet wasn't all that big, but did as he was told. The second he fully entered the closet, the door shut behind him. Immersed in darkness, he rose an eyebrow at the situation before saying anything.

"Uh, Sam?" he asked, trying to see her outline in the dark–something, at least.

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the contact she made with him. Her hands roamed his shoulders, his abdomen, his back, setting his senses on fire, especially when her hands trailed a little far south. Without continuing their journey downwards, but going venturing back up to his chest, his breath hitched in his throat. "S-Sam?"

That was the night he found out Samantha Manson was a horny drunk.

"Shh," she hushed. He felt her breath on his neck before her lips attached themselves, and he found it hard to keep his hands off of her any longer. Grabbing hold of her waist, he pulled her closer to him, glad that she decided to take this little detour from the party going on around them. Oh, shit.

"B-But Sam, the party," he breathed, whispering into the darkness. "We don't want to–"

"Who says we don't?" she asked defiantly before nearly bruising his lips in a kiss he would later describe as electrifying. Her hands wandered, from feeling his abdomen, to groping his backside, to...

"Sam!" he whispered with wide eyes as she unbuckled his belt. "I thought you had to get something in here?" he asked, trying to justify the way his voice jumped to a higher octave as a hand caressed the growing bulge in his pants.

"I'm getting it," she replied, the grin plastered on her face evident in her tone of voice. Dipping a hand underneath the waistband of his boxers, she freed him from confinement.

Lifting a leg to rest on a box that had been forgotten in the closet many years before, she pulled one of the hands that was clutching at her waist to rest on her thigh. Taking her lead, he allowed his own hand to wander up her skirt to reveal she didn't have on as much as he originally had in mind.

"Did you lose your underwear or what?" he asked, his voice huskier than he remembered, his pulse racing as her hands explored.

"Or what," she responded in a breath, chuckling.

"We should get back–I mean, someone might walk in on us, Sam," he said, completely forgetting about a certain ability he had when it came to getting out of nasty situations.

"You talk too much," she mumbled, pressing her lips to his, effectively cutting off anything else he had felt the need to say.

He wished he could brag that the lost his virginity in the Manson's closet, but he couldn't bring himself to even attempt such a thing while she was as tipsy as she was. She, on the other hand, brought him to do something else entirely.

Realizing she was staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, he coughed into his hand.

She iterated, rolling her eyes at his tendency to daydream in the middle of a conversation, "I said, do you think I should get wine for the party tonight?"

"One-hundred percent, without a doubt, yes," he replied, grinning playfully at her bemused expression. "Definitely."

End Note: Would we all like some more smut in our lives or should we hold off? Ah, well, it's good for the soul (along with fluff, of course). Review and tell me what you think! Thank you to everyone that has reviewed thus far, as well as just reading (even though it would make me feel a whole lot better knowing what you think, those who haven't reviewed). :)

-A