What a disaster.

Who could've imagined she'd be such a lightweight? Not Jack, not in the slightest. Because if he had, he wouldn't have invited her to the local bar on 2 for 1 special night. Seeing as Jack is a mere clueless dumbass, he just indulges her as she lets loose, absorbing her drunken joy by proximity and thinking they're having a simple night of unadulterated fun together. Next thing he knows, she's slaying 80s rock songs at karaoke and picking fights by the pool table. Granted, the dude is a chauvinistic pig that deserves Karma biting him in the ass, but he's also twice her size and Jack HAS to get them out of there before they become persona non grata on this side of town.

Stumbling through the bar's doors, she trips on the cobblestone and almost breaks her ankle, giving him no choice but to basically drag her home by the arm. In hindsight, he should've force-fed her to soak up some of that alcohol, her disdain for deep-fried foods be damned.

Crossing the park is technically a shortcut, but taking it turns out to be just another mistake on top of the evening's evergrowing pile of mistakes.

There's a water fountain in the middle of the park. Jets are still working despite the late hour, gurgling water loud in the quietude of the night, and Elsa is attracted to it like a five-year-old with a shiny new penny. She somehow slithers herself from his grasp and wobbles to it, backed by the drunken confidence granted by half a dozen margaritas.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His arms are crossed as he glares at her sitting on the edge of the water fountain, unclasping her sandals, which proves to be a rather challenging task in her inebriated state, if the long time she takes to do it is proof of anything.

Elsa ignores him as she continues to work on her clasps. Once shoeless, she hikes her skirt up to her thighs not to get it wet, and dips her toes into the glistening water, making the pennies on the bottom of the fountain chink everywhere like a cascade of dominos.

"Get out of there before your drunken ass is arrested."

She giggles, twirling around and making water splash in tiny waves. "Who's going to arrest me?"

"The cops, probably."

Locking eyes with him, she takes a couple more steps inward, a teasing smile on her lips. "I'm sure our local law enforcement officers have more important things to do than to yell at some folks playing with some water."

"That's your white privilege talking."

He watches her, trying to maintain a hardened face, reminding her of what a brainless nuisance she's being for once, but it's hard to keep the anger in place when she's acting so stupidly carefree like that.

Elsa's really feeling the moment, not a care in the world. Arms spread and head turned to the darkened sky; her lids are softly closed, lips half-parted, the forgotten hem of her skirt floating along the shimmering water. The misty light of the fountain surrounds her with a halo effect, making her look like an ethereal existence from another realm.

Before the fae, or the ancient gods or whatever entities decide to claim her as one of their own, he grudgingly takes his shoes off and stomps toward her. He doesn't even want to think how many bacteria are getting in contact with his skin. Water to his shins, sludge between his toes, jeans painted a shade darker and feeling a ton heavier, and limbs stiff from the cold, he stops right in front of her, less than a step separating them. If he wanted to, he could easily stretch one arm, wrap it around her waist, pull her hard against his body, and let her know exactly what a huge pain she is being. But instead, he just stands there, glaring at her, fists clenched on both sides of his body and jaw so tight his teeth grind, much to his dear dentist's chagrin.

Time seems to slow down. The gurgling of the water becomes faint and distant; she becomes the center of his existence. Her, and her glossy eyes, and her rosy cheeks, and her hair curling up around the edges from all the humidity, and her tinkling giggles echoing ominously, surrounded by all that water.

His throat suddenly goes dry, and he swallows before speaking. "Get out of the water, lady."

She smirks. "Why don't you make me?"

That's an invitation. That's as invitational as it gets. But she's also drunk, very very drunk. Jack has to consciously stop his muscles from reacting. Stop himself from having her right then and there. From sending them both to a night in jail for public indecency if they're caught.

He lets out a long, constrained breath, trying to regain his bearings. "Get. Out." Not giving her time to fight him, he grabs her wrist, noticing the frantic pulse under his palm. Electricity jolts through his veins. Ignoring her whining, he drags her back to the edge of the fountain and eventually puts them back en route to the house.

He tunes out her voice, the way she tugs on his arm with her tiny hand, the heat of her skin on his back. His muscles and facial expression remain rigid as stone throughout the unending walk. Because at least one of them has to keep their marbles. And if Jack knows anything, it's that releasing the tiniest bit of tension, giving him the slightest chance to acknowledge how nice her body feels pressed against his, could mean giving leeway to doing something they'd both very much regret in the morning…

You have no idea how long I've wanted to use that dancing in the water scene in one of my stories. Also, it's official: this story is gonna have 35 chapters in total, so maybe two more batches to go!