Scott and Wanda (Drunk, so drunk!)

[x-scarletwitch.livejournal.com]

Wanda and Scott are the last one's back to the Mansion after the little party at Harry's. They're very, very, very drunk. And in true drunk fashion, discuss shoes, relationships and being spontaneous.



Wanda leaned against the wall outside of the kitchen and giggled slightly at Scott as he stumbled in front of her. "Careful, those floors are tricky," she said, trying to whisper. She was, for the first time in forever, well and truly hammered. It had been a small gathering but fun at the same time. To her surprise, Scott had not only joined in but had stayed until the very end.

"Tricksy floors," Scott said, trying for a Gollum impression and failing miserably. "We hates them, we do..." He started to laugh, softly and helplessly, catching himself on the wall. "Ohhh. I am... just a little drunk. Bad me. I wasn't supposed to be doing this anymore."

"Oh come now, Summers, who wants to be that boring?" Shoes must come off because shoes were noisy. Hopping about, she attempted to remove the offending objects and move down the hall at the same time. "You had fun, didn't you? Ohhh, I'm so drunk...but you're drunker."

"What were we drinking?" Scott asked, befuddled. Harry had pulled out some dusty bottle of Eastern European something, just for Wanda, and she had certainly squeed over it delightedly. "It tasted terrible. Well, the first few shots did..."

"...do you really want to know?" was the fuzzy question as a shoe went flying past his head. "And after the first shots it tasted like heaven, did it not?" Giggling again, Wanda hobbled down the hall after the forlorn looking shoe in the middle of the hall and then half-slide, half-tottered through the door into the TV lounge. Apparently it was far too late for even the most ardent of TV watchers. Thank God.

Scott followed her, swaying a little. Nice walls. Right there when you needed something to catch you. Wanda flopped down at one end of the big couch and he collapsed on the other. "On second thought, probably not. All gone now anyway. I don't think there was a drop left in the bottle." Was he ever glad he had swapped duty shifts with Ororo tonight.

"I can always get more!" Even laying down, the room looked like it was doing the cha-cha. How interesting. "What time is it--oh who cares? Tomorrow will get here when it gets here." Not caring that the sentence didn't make the least bit of sense, Wanda returned to her struggle to remove the other boot. "Too tall..."

Scott sat up, reached for her foot. "Here," he said. "I think I can get it..."

"Ow, that's my knee," she whined at him when he missed and accidentally hit her. "_This_ is my foot." Whoops, nearly kicked him in the chest. "Bad Wanda, no kicking super...superior people in the chest. Unless it's training. And we're not training, you're taking off my boot. There's a zipper."

"They're very nice boots," Scott said very earnestly, managing to take the zipper and pull it downwards. "And very nice legs." Whoops, had he said that aloud?

Normally, either her eyebrows would have raised (except she couldn't feel them at this point--they were still there, right?), or would have...something. "Why, thank you," she said, trying to peer at him but a few things where in the way. Her leg, for one.

He got the boot off. "Victory!" he said triumphantly, and accidentally flung it halfway across the room. It bounced over one of the DVD shelves and landed on the floor. "Whoops, now it's over there."

Turning her head, Wanda squinted at the boot. "Poor boot--god knows where the other one got off to. Alone in the world, separated from those they love in a world that hates and fears them!"

Scott gazed at it mournfully. "It looks so sad."

"Doesn't it though?" Speaking of sad...Wanda moved her head back around to look at Scott. Who she could _see_ now that her leg was no longer in the way. "You've been more...I don't know, lately. You okay?"

"I'm good." He leaned back into the cushions of the couch, yawning widely enough that his jaw cracked. "Well, you know. The usual. I hate my life. Other than that, though... definitely good."

"Good does not mean hating life! Good means...well, good!" Reaching over to poke him in the ribs with her feet, she made to glare at him but in her state it looked more sleepy drunk than anything scary.

Scott yelped, batting at her foot. "Don't do that. It's good so long as I don't say it aloud." There, that made perfect sense. "Except I guess I just did... whoops." He snickered helplessly, collapsing back against the couch. "I'm very bad. Switching shifts and getting drunk." He waved a hand. "Supposed to be the Boy Scout, you know. Ready 24/7. Yes, sir, Professor, how high?"

Giggling at his reaction, Wanda put her foot down--though fully prepared to do that again. That was funny. "Everyone breaks loose once in a while!" she proclaimed. "Every Boy Scouts--wouldn't you be a, what the bloody hell are they...parrot scout? The older one? 'Sides, your butt is too nice to belong to a Boy Scouts. And Boy Scouts don't beat up their teammates."

Scott raised his head. "Did you just compliment my butt?" he asked, sitting up slowly, trying to ignore the way the room was spinning around him. "Why, Wanda. How very forward."

"I asked you out on a date--kind of--the first time we met. Second time, technically, since I was kind of not conscious when we met the first time." Wanda paused to consider that. "You dropped a wrench on your foot."

"Oh, right. I forgot about that. And the wrench." Scott tilted his head - or maybe it was his whole body tilting, and in any case he grabbed the back of the couch so that he wouldn't fall off. "That was back before Betsy played Sleeping Beauty and forgot..." He trailed off, his expression going distant. "Well. Never mind."

"Something happen?" she asked, slightly slurring her words as she regarded him through a mass of hair.

He brought his hands together, then apart, in different directions. "Was never really fair to her," he said, sounding more than a little slurred himself. "How can you be with someone if you don't know who you are? I kept her from finding out, I think... needing so damned much from her, when I could never help her in return..."

Moving her legs--wow, when did she get so tall?--Wanda managed to pull herself up into a sitting position. "That explains it," she said, simply, nodding as her hair went everywhere. "And's not all on you." Reaching over she poked him in the ribs again. "Takes two to tango--whiskey fox trot over..." snickering slightly at the last part, she poked Scott again.

Scott yelped again and shifted around so that he was sitting on the couch properly, his legs propped on the coffee table. "Point those ridiculously long legs thataway," he said, waving in that general direction.

"They are _not_ ridiculously long legs," she huffed, and after some concentration, managed to get them to join Scott's on the table. "They're...well...just there."

"They are ridiculously long. Go up to your eyebrows." Scott hiccuped. "Very nice legs, though. Like I said."

"If I still HAVE eyebrows since I can't feel my forehead." Reaching up, she poked at it. "I guess it's still there. And thank you--need to get you more drunk oftener, feed my ego."

Scott looked sideways at her. "I like your hair, too," he offered. "Did I ever say that? It's all curly. And not red. I have issues with redheads."

"It's very curly," Wanda agreed, leaning her head back to look at Scott without overtipping herself. "And no red, not a red hair to be found! My hair eats coloring stuff, so no turning it red, if that helps."

"It does," he said very firmly. "And you have a nice smile, too. People around here don't smile nearly enough."

"They need to. Smiling makes it easier to do lots of things! They don't suspect you if you're smiling."

Yeah, there was the smile. She was downright beaming, actually. It was really very cute. Beaming at him. Scott was feeling very mellow. "I like you," he said very firmly.

"Awww, why thank you, Scott. I like you too." Scott was giving her an odd look but Wanda chalked it up to either indigestion or too much drink. Or both.

"No, I mean, I like you. Not like I like your brother. Him I like even if he's a bit of an ass at times," Scott said, having had enough to drink to be somewhat careless of his words. "But you're all... stable, and stuff. And friendly. And you're a good X-Man already."

"Trainee," she corrected and then tried to think through the ramble of words. "My brother is a bit of an ass. A big ass. But, a good ass. Sometimes." Wanda tilted her head at him and watched the room move with the motion. "Thank you--never been called stable before."

"Mmm. Pity. You are. I like stable people. Nice to be around." Nice to be around, nice to look at... she was like the perfect woman. Really.

"You get all flatter-ery when you're drunk," Wanda said, cheerfully. "I like that. Thank you. Like being around you, too. Nice to be able to joke around with and have fun and stuff. And cute butt. Always a plus."

"Fun," Scott said wistfully, his thoughts going very odd places. "Spon...spontaneity. Do you like being spontaneous? I think I forget how. Or maybe I just get in trouble every time I try."

"I," Wanda struck a pose. Or something similar to a pose if she hadn't immediately slumped back onto the couch. "I am the ep..epit...the spitting image of spontaneity. How come I can say spointaneity but not the other word?"

"Because you had too much of the whatchamacallit," Scott said wisely. "Me too. Eloquence has gone somewhere very far away..."

"You need to remember how to be all spontaneous and stuff, Scott. It's fun. Last time I was spontaneous was...um...oh yeah, I dropped snow on your head."

"Right!" He remembered the snow. Scott gave her a very, very thoughtful look. "So I guess that makes it my turn," he said very seriously. "Okay. I've got it. Spontaneous. I can do spontaneous..." He leaned in and kissed her.

It's not very often that Wanda was taken by complete surprise but suffice to say that right now she was flummoxed. Oh yes, and being kissed. Being kissed and flummoxed. And it didn't help that it was a very good kiss! That did not help her mental state and she was lucky she remembered to kiss back.

She was kissing him back! Okay, so sometimes spontaneity didn't blow up in your face. What a nice discovery. And he apparently hadn't forgotten how to kiss, either, to judge by the appreciative little noise she made. Also nice.

Between the drink and the kiss, her brain had suddenly decided to visit Tanzania. Completely abandoned by her senses, Wanda leaned further in, a hand going up to clutch at Scott's shirt. Mainly so she wouldn't tip and take them both into the coffee table.

"See?" Scott said a bit muzzily as they paused for air. "I can do spontaneous." And actually, that had been rather fun. So doing it again? Also a good idea!

"So I see," she managed, blinking at him. Was trying to clear her head a good idea? She didn't know and did it look like he wanted to kiss her again?

"Is it still spontaneous if I do it a second time?" Scott asked, then made a thoughtful face. "I guess I need to be a little more creative the second time, to qualify..."

"I think if you announce it, it is not being spontaneous," Wanda said, nodding her head sagely.

"Mmm. Point." Sneak attacks. He could do those, too. And Wanda was still holding onto his shirt, so she made it really very easy. Within range and all.

This was starting to get really, really bizarre, Wanda thought, as Scott moved to kiss her again. Very odd, very bizarre, rather nice. But still...odd.

Scott was rather enjoying himself, too. Only things were starting to get rather fuzzy. Too much of the whatchamacallit, he thought hazily. Waaaaay too much of that, oh yes...

It took her a second to realize that the sliding sensation she was feeling was not her simply being drunk but was Scott toppling over. Most of the time, she probably would have held onto him but she currently had the coordination level of an armless penguin and barely managed to keep him from slamming his head into the table. "Well...damn..."

~~~

With a heave, Wanda managed to lay the now very boneless Scott nearly in the middle of his own bed. Gasping, she leaned against his legs for a second. "Why the bloody hell do some of the students call you "Slim"?" she asked the slightly snoring man. It had taken her nearly twenty minutes to drag his butt upstairs and they nearly hadn't made it to his room.

Soft. He'd just landed on someone soft. Why were there people throwing him around? Scott grumbled softly and turned away from the rude person, grabbing at a pillow.

"Men are three years old." Giggling, still highly drunk, Wanda chased him around the bed. Shoes, shoes were not allowed on the bed! Tugging them off, she managed to get them off with only one falling over.

Getting him settled in took longer than she thought, mainly because he kept either trying to hit or, apparently, drag her in with him. Pausing, Wanda stared down at his sprawled form and bit her lip. Very, very, very tempting, she knew. Had it been a few weeks ago...there'd be no hesitation. Since she was drunk, she could fully admit to herself that she had a very large crush on Stephen Strange and even in this state didn't want to commit herself tonight and then...yes, that would be bad.

Bending down, she kissed him on the cheek before stumbling out of his room. Wanda groaned and then found herself falling over, face first, onto his couch. Too drunk, too tired too go any further, she settled for falling asleep as she was.