Texts From Last Night (All UC, Mature) 8/4 [WIP]

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Ashita
Addicted Roswellian
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Re: Texts From Last Night (All UC, Mature) 8/4

Postby Ashita » Mon Aug 04, 2014 5:33 pm

HypnotiqBlueEyes - I'm thrilled that you're still enjoying these little drabbles. They have been fun to write. And thanks for understanding on the delay. I know people get frustrated at times with the lack of updates, and I feel bad about that, but what can you do? If I could get paid to write fanfic all day, I would. Unfortunately, that isn't the case. Maybe one day...

Kiara - I do remember that you commented before I went MIA and all my reviews went bye bye before I could copy them down; you said that you weren't feeling good or were injured and that the new series made you laugh. Glad to hear that and I hope you're feeling better. And thanks for the lovely comment. :) Reviews always make my day!

AN: So here we are again, making fun of the boys once more. I really should rename this "The Boys Get Drunk and Stupid and the Girls Hand Them Their Asses." On that note, if you have recs from Texts From Last Night, or even Damn You Autocorrect, that would work well for the girls, please let me know here or PM me. It's incredibly difficult to find texts that will work for our girls and I really don't want to pick on the boys the entire time. No matter how easy they make it.
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Maracas?




Tess hummed quietly to herself as she walked down the aisle, one finger tapping against her mouth as she studied the goods before. She didn't really need anything today, but when the choice was between listening to Alex and Kyle whine and moan their way through their hangovers and doing a little retail therapy - well, the latter always won. Plus, she deserved something nice after the previous evening.

Sighing, she set aside the cobalt blue and aquamarine teapot that she was looking at (after all, she was the only one who drank tea of her friends - heathens that all preferred coffee, and typically black coffee at that, over the complex blends of tea - and she already had one too many at home), and turned the corner to the next aisle, pausing when she caught sight of a familiar face.

Drawing back, she hid behind a clearance sign and picked up the nearest box, pretending to study - she looked at the words on the box, a Wusthof Gourmet twelve-piece knife set with block apparently - but really her eyes where all for the befuddled man down the aisle. Dark hair flopped over his forehead and framed his face as he rubbed a hand over a neat little goatee and continued to look between the list in his hand and the packages in front of him with utter confusion.

Tess couldn't help but smirk at his apparent bewilderment at trying to decipher his wife, Vicki's, note and thought back to their conversation the night before, silently laughing at his complete and utter panic at having lost Alex for a few minutes. A remembrance that also brought this morning's mystery to mind.


"Why are there maracas in the dishwasher?" Tess asked, a light note of confusion coloring her tone as she turned to face Alex and held up one brightly patterned, green, blue and purple maraca. To say that they were hurting that morning would be an understatement, a fact cemented as her boyfriend barely managed to pry one eye open to look at her, before it quickly shut with a whimper.

"Don’t look at me…" Alex muttered, his face nearly as pale as the quilt he was bundled under. "The last thing I remember is ordering pitchers of White Russians...."

"What did you..." Tess started, a frown crossing her face as she wondered just what her idiot boys had been up to that night. Last she had heard, they were going to Coldbrews, a popular sports bar. Nothing about that screamed maracas. But then something else caught her attention. "Wait...they serve White Russians in pitchers?"

"Yup," Alex replied, popping the 'p' at the end, and then gave a little grunt as he turned his head, sending it swimming once more.

"And you thought this was a good idea because..." Tess probed, wondering what on Earth they had been thinking.

"It made sense at the time," Alex shrugged, wincing as that jostled his throbbing head.

"Right," Tess drawled, sending him an exasperated glance as she set the maraca aside and then pulled out its mate, perversely tossing it at the two huddled forms on the couch, smirking when the loud rattling made both Alex and Kyle cringe. "I'm amazed you're not in the hospital with alcohol poisoning."

"Hey, we were totally in control; we stopped after a pitcher each," Kyle defended, only quelling a bit under Tess' unimpressed look, before mumbling. "We decided that the paper cups disintegrating was Buddha’s way of telling us we had had enough."

"That sounds more likely," Tess agreed, filling the dishwasher as noisily as possible. Honestly, if the idiots were going to do something so stupid, they deserved the pain their idiocy inflicted. "I really need to stop letting you off your leash."

"And on that note, how is it that I keep meeting up with you when I'm drunk?" Kyle piped up, staring at Alex through one blurry eye.

"You stand on my porch screaming my name until I come out with you..." Alex stated, kicking out at Kyle as he moved, and completely missing in his hungover lack of coordination. "Seriously, cats in heat sound better than your whining. I go just to shut you up. I really need to start ignoring you, or tell Isabel to invest in a muzzle."

"Hey!" Kyle exclaimed, his head shooting up a he momentarily forgot his hangover in an attempt to defend himself, and then groaned, falling off the couch to lay in an unhappy heap on the floor, vowing vengeance when he could move again.



Tess smiled at the memory before fixating back onto the man in front of her; perhaps she could get an answer to the mystery maracas here.

"Monk," Tess purred, a sweet smile sliding her across her face as the man startled and jumped, and then slowly turned around. He looked off balance, his face drawn and cheeks ashen even as he smiled warily in return; and she couldn't help giggling a little on the inside knowing that his sickly appearance had nothing to do with a hangover and everything to do with panic. "Just the man I've been looking for."

"Hey Tess," Monk returned, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, his eyes dancing everywhere but at her. "How have you been?

"Fantastic," she grinned, absently stroking a finger over knife set in her hands, noting the way Monk blanched further as he stared at her hands. She should really feel bad about that; she knew that everything that happened likely wasn't his fault, but she couldn't help the evil glee that bubbled inside at his reaction. "So, I hear you had quite the night."

"Yeah, really sorry about that," Monk explained hastily, one eye still trained on the box. "I tried to talk them into staying put, but it was either go along with them and make sure they didn't kill themselves or have them wander off on their own."

"Oh, I get it," Tess agreed, nodding her head as she set the box aside, almost feeling bad about manipulating him. Almost. "Seriously. I know what they are like when they get drunk. Any idea, no matter how lame, sounds good. And other than the monumental hangover he's been nursing this morning, Alex didn't get hurt; so no harm, no foul."

"Yeah, I just talked to Kyle, and he sounded a little green around the gills," Monk huffed nervously, relaxing his guard a touch now that she didn't have sharp implements in her hands.

"He is," Tess laughed softly, explaining when she caught his curious glance. "He's currently nursing his woes on my couch as Isabel locked him out last night."

"Ouch," Monk winced, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Now I feel bad just dropping him off on the curb. Did he..."

"He ended up stumbling to our place about an hour after you dropped Alex off, wailing out his troubles like a cat in heat," Tess smirked, rolling her eyes. "While his father has vocal talent, it definitely skipped a generation."

"Yeah," Monk laughed, the tension easing out of his shoulders at her amicable quip. Tess smirked internally, the better to disarm you with, my dear. "I bore witness to his, Michael's and Alex's pathetic attempts at harmony in the car last night. They definitely should not quit their day jobs."

"Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for wrangling the Troublesome Trio," Tess grinned. "And making sure they got home safely."

"Of course," Monk nodded, relief crossing over his features when he realized she wasn't going to get on his case about leading the Merry, Drunken Men on whatever mischief they got into last night. She didn't bother with that as she was certain she'd hear about it before long. Roswell wasn't that big of a town, and people did love to gossip. However...

"There is one thing that has me curious however..." she added, gleefully drawing the sentence out as Monk froze much like a deer in the headlights.

~

Monk froze down to a cellular level, a thin trick of sweat sliding down his spine as he faced the petite, angelic-looking blonde smiling oh-so-prettily at him and wondered what he had ever done in a past life to deserve this. He had always been the quiet sort; a person that remained in the background and was often overlooked for his more rambunctious, outgoing siblings. In high school, he had been practically a ghost, more concerned with his books than getting involved.

In fact, the only reason he had started working at MetaChem was it allowed him the chance to go to school during the day, and gave him the opportunity to work on his homework at night. He had a solid plan. Keep his head down and eye on the goal, get through school, get his bio-engineering degree, and then apply for a better position within the company. His five-year plan also included marrying the girl of his dreams, (and he was still stunned that pretty, smart, sassy Vicki Delaney even looked twice at him and he thanked his stars daily that she had), establishing himself in the company and starting a family.

It hadn't included drunken hijinks that included aliens and meta-humans whose tolerances were practically nothing and running around in the dead of night causing mischief and mayhem.

And then he'd met Michael.

That had turned out to be both a blessing and a curse.

"Uh, what's that?" Monk asked nervously, feeling his right eye twitch just slightly under the pleasantly impassive expression on Tess' face. Never let it be said that sweetness and light couldn't be downright scary as hell. Because it could. And it was on the woman standing in front of him.

"When I was loading the dishwasher this morning," Tess paused, giving an innocent smile that he didn't believe for one second. He'd seen that smile before, beaming out at him from the sweet, cherished, pink lips of his wife, and it was anything but innocent. "I stumbled upon a set of maracas that I know weren't there yesterday."

"Oh." Monk frowned, momentarily thrown off by the comment. That...that hadn't been what he'd been expecting when Tess said that; and then he winced internally, vividly recalling the events that led up to the acquisition of said maracas. "Oh, those."

"Yes, those," Tess smirked, tapping a finger against her lips as she arched one brow. "Care to explain?"

"Uh, well," Monk stumbled, wondering just how much he should say. He really didn't want to rat out his friend, but at the same time, he really preferred living without extreme pain. Besides, after the hell Alex and the others had put him through last night, they deserved a little comeuppance of their own. "It was like this."


Monk searched the growing crowd with annoyance, trying to spot his friends, whom he'd gotten separated from in the new rush of people. They had come to Coldbrews for some downtime; to simply have a drink and watch the game. Well, really, he and Alex were going to have a drink and talk, while Kyle and Michael watched the game. What they hadn't been anticipating was a birthday party being thrown in the backroom and thus the typically relaxed sports bar was a wall to wall mass of people all with intent on getting drunk off their asses.

This typically wouldn't bother him. It wasn't
his idea of a great time, but to each their own. What did bother him in this case, was he was well aware of how easily a certain person who should not be drinking, could be talked into doing so, (not that he was mentioning any names - Kyle), due to a certain physiology change. And then this person would rashly spike the drink of the others.

A definite nightmare in the making.

It was one thing if they were all drinking at one of their homes. At least then, if anything quirky (read alien power related) happened, it was around people who wouldn't freak out and run, potentially outing them. It was another to have them drinking in public, where they forgot these things. And it made him nervous that he couldn't find his charges.

Finally breaking through the crowd, Monk sighed in relief when he caught sight of his wayward friends, all standing near the dartboard, with Michael and Kyle playing darts, each with a drink in hand. Alex sat in a corner, talking to a pretty redhead with a sappy smile on his face, who, in turn, was watching him with faint amusement.

It looked tame from a distance, but given how accurately Michael was landing his darts, Monk was fairly certain that he was cheating with his powers. Narrowing his eyes, Monk studied Michael carefully, noting the minute flick of his hand that precluded a spike of his powers. Sighing internally, Monk rubbed a hand over his face wearily, and looked around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention or had noticed anything unusual, and as it was subtle power manipulation, he wasn't going to complain.

Better that than walking around the streets, lighting up parking meters like sparklers.

Yes, he had heard about Max's adventure just after discovering Michael's secret; which occurred when they had been drinking one night and weird things started happening.

Shaking his head, Monk strode toward the others, intent on getting them out of there before something more inexplicable could happen, and then paused in horror when he got close enough to hear what Alex was saying.

"Those sure are some pretty maracas" Alex said, swaying dangerously as he looked down at the redhead, a loose smile on his lips. "I really like 'em."

"What?" the girl demanded, startled, a touch of anger flickering in her eyes as she stared at Alex incredulously. Monk winced at the words, certain Alex (who was very much in love with Tess) meant no harm by them, but even he was having difficulty understanding what he meant other than the potential innuendo. Hastening his pace, Monk strode over to them, hoping to smooth the waters and prevent his friend from getting a sound smack across the face.

"My Tessie's favorite colors," Alex enthused, pointing at something in the girl's lap. Monk halted in front of the duo, now confused and trying to figure out what the other man was talking about. "She likes blue, green and purple. I wonder if she'd like some herself."

"What?
OH!" the redhead replied, comprehension suddenly dawning in her eyes as they flicked to her lap, a faint flush of embarrassment tinting her cheeks. She held one maraca aloft, waving it in front of Alex's face, chuckling softly when Alex dizzily followed the movement. "You really meant the maracas. I thought...nevermind. Your Tessie?"

"She's my little spitfire," Alex nodded happily, contentment at home on his face.

"Your...girlfriend?" the redhead guessed with a soft smile.

"Yup," Alex stated, popping the 'p' in the end, and then looked around shiftily before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially. "I'm gonna marry her one day. But don't tell her. It's a surprise."

"That's sweet," the redhead cooed and continued giggling at Alex's antics.

"She is," Alex agreed, a goofy smile etched into his face."My sweet, little spitfire. She's the best."

Monk smiled, and rolled his eyes, joining his friends as the girl, whose name turned out to be Anna, continued asking Alex about Tess.



"He kind of followed her around the rest of the night," Monk fondly admitted.

"Did he?" Tess asked, her tone and face inscrutable.

"It really isn't as bad as it sounds," Monk assured, eyes flicking to the blonde, alarm slamming through him at the lack of tone. It made it hard to tell what the blonde was thinking. "It really wasn't." He paused to look at Tess, but she still wasn't giving anything away. "Actually if you think about it, it was kind of pathetic.

Monk winced when all Tess did was lift a brow and continue to stare at him. "And adorable really. Yes, absolutely adorable. He was like a big, happy puppy and spent the entire time babbling on about you. She sort of adopted him and made him a mascot and..."

"Exactly how is that not as bad as it sounds?" Tess queried skeptically, but her expression remained placid. "You just told me my pseudo-fiancé, which thanks for that by the way, good to know what he's thinking; but you just told me that my boyfriend spent the entire night following some other girl around like a puppy dog, after babbling on about her maracas."

Monk twitched. Just a little under that bland gaze, knowing full well that bland by no means meant safe or was, in any way, shape or form, bland at all. It was usually a prelude to bad things. Very. Bad. Things. Especially when this pint-sized, blonde Goddess and her brethren were involved. And faced with the choice of further pleading his friend's case, or saving his own neck, he did the only sensible thing.

"Please don't kill me..." he pleaded.

She'd eventually forgive Alex. Him on the other hand...

They stood there for a long, silent moment before the blonde relented and smiled, a knowing twinkle entering her eyes.

"Well, you did bring him back in one piece," Tess sniggered, and he cursed when he caught that twinkle, which told him that she'd been playing him all along. Sometimes, he really wished he had told Michael to stay the hell away from him when they first met.

His heart really couldn't handle these fluctuations.

But then, if it weren't for Michael, he would have never met Vicki.

Rock meet hard place. It really sucked sometimes.

"I'll let it slide," Tess continued as she walked towards him, taking the list out of his hand, and studied it with a lilting laugh; one that sounded like bells, but sent a small chill down his spine nonetheless. Handing it back to him, she walked over to the appropriate utensil - and honestly, what the hell is a zester - grabbed it and handed it to him.

"This time," she smirked, and he swore her eyes glinted just a little evilly when she did.

"You are as merciful as you are beautiful, my Queen," he nodded, swallowing heavily as he took what just looked like a flat, thin grater with a handle, wondering why Vicki couldn't have just written that in her notes.

"And don't you forget it," Tess grinned, waving to him as she headed towards the door. "Now, I need to go have a long talk with my boyfriend about ogling strange girls' maracas..."

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Texts used in this drabble:

1. Why are there maracas in the dishwasher?

2. The last thing I remember is ordering pitchers of White Russians

3. We decided that the paper cups disintegrating was God's way of telling us we had had enough.

4. How is it that I keep meeting up with you when I'm drunk?
You stand on my porch screaming my name until I come out with you...
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