Fic: The Kid's Alright
Feb. 21st, 2012 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
islandofwordsTitle: The Kid's Alright
Characters: Molly, Sally Donovan
Prompt: someone, any one, drunk or hung-over, says this: “Look-wherever giving a fuck is, I’m like, totally past that right now. Here’s fucks, and like, far off in the distance, is me.” because drunk/hungover fics are some of my favourites and there just aren't enough of them
bonus points if it's Molly
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
The lights in the bar are low and the glasses are starting to blur together. Maybe it's not the lights. Maybe it's the sheer amount of alcohol Molly's consumed in the wake of her most recent completely disastrous romantic entanglement.
"But I don't care," she slurs to Donovan. Sally's not really sure how she ended up watching Molly drink herself to unconsciousness (and Sally's really Too Sober for This Shit), but Anderson said he'd text some time this evening and hanging out in the bar isn't a bad way to pass the time.
"Are you sure?" Sally asks, sounding bored. She's not really interested but she's not really sure what Molly's liable to do when she wasted and distraught. She should be distraught. She will be when the alcohol wears off (no doubt the hangover will make it worse).
Molly sort of waves her hand in front of her face. "Totally." Because so what if her last boyfriend turned out to be a gay serial killer and before that Sherlock Holmes couldn't notice a come-on if it killed three people. Molly Hooper is one hot lady and if the men in St. Bart's won't notice it, she's just going to have to find someone who will.
She reaches for her glass, the one with the remnants of a cosmo still sloshing--wait, no, that's her hand making it slosh. "Look," she begins, "wherever giving a fuck is, I’m like, totally past that right now. Here’s fucks," she gestures vaguely in front of herself, "and like, far off in the distance, is me.” She flings her arm out, almost catching Sally in the face.
Molly puts both hands flat on the bar in front of her and looks at Sally, really looks. As much as she can manage while the world is sort of wobbling and there might be two or three of Sally. "Sa--Sabley." Molly frowns. That's not right. "Salby." Still not right. 'Sa-lly," she manages finally. "Sally."
"Yes?" says Sally, an eyebrow arched. She checks her phone out of the corner of her eye. Still nothing.
"Men are stupid." Molly lifts up one hand to waggle a finger at Sally, but the movement catches her off balance and she starts to tip forward. Sally catches Molly's shoulder and rights her. Molly continues, "Men are stupid cause I'm pretty and nice." She sighs. "And it's okay if I'm not brilliant like... like bloody Sherlock or, or, or homicidal" (she stumbles over that word spectacularly) "like Jim." Her voice is rises and it's beginning to sound more like a wail.
"You're pretty too, Sally," Molly stage-whispers. She slides one hand toward Sally and Sally leaps out of her chair away from her.
"OKAY, I think that's quite enough for you," Sally says quickly. She gets the bartender's attention and instructs him to call a cab for Molly. Sally's resigning herself to having to watch Molly until her cab arrives, but her phone finally buzzes.
"Sorry, have to run," Sally says with a hurried wave, bolting out of the bar. When Anderson asks her later how she likes it, she fully intends to answer, "Earlier."
Characters: Molly, Sally Donovan
Prompt: someone, any one, drunk or hung-over, says this: “Look-wherever giving a fuck is, I’m like, totally past that right now. Here’s fucks, and like, far off in the distance, is me.” because drunk/hungover fics are some of my favourites and there just aren't enough of them
bonus points if it's Molly
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
The lights in the bar are low and the glasses are starting to blur together. Maybe it's not the lights. Maybe it's the sheer amount of alcohol Molly's consumed in the wake of her most recent completely disastrous romantic entanglement.
"But I don't care," she slurs to Donovan. Sally's not really sure how she ended up watching Molly drink herself to unconsciousness (and Sally's really Too Sober for This Shit), but Anderson said he'd text some time this evening and hanging out in the bar isn't a bad way to pass the time.
"Are you sure?" Sally asks, sounding bored. She's not really interested but she's not really sure what Molly's liable to do when she wasted and distraught. She should be distraught. She will be when the alcohol wears off (no doubt the hangover will make it worse).
Molly sort of waves her hand in front of her face. "Totally." Because so what if her last boyfriend turned out to be a gay serial killer and before that Sherlock Holmes couldn't notice a come-on if it killed three people. Molly Hooper is one hot lady and if the men in St. Bart's won't notice it, she's just going to have to find someone who will.
She reaches for her glass, the one with the remnants of a cosmo still sloshing--wait, no, that's her hand making it slosh. "Look," she begins, "wherever giving a fuck is, I’m like, totally past that right now. Here’s fucks," she gestures vaguely in front of herself, "and like, far off in the distance, is me.” She flings her arm out, almost catching Sally in the face.
Molly puts both hands flat on the bar in front of her and looks at Sally, really looks. As much as she can manage while the world is sort of wobbling and there might be two or three of Sally. "Sa--Sabley." Molly frowns. That's not right. "Salby." Still not right. 'Sa-lly," she manages finally. "Sally."
"Yes?" says Sally, an eyebrow arched. She checks her phone out of the corner of her eye. Still nothing.
"Men are stupid." Molly lifts up one hand to waggle a finger at Sally, but the movement catches her off balance and she starts to tip forward. Sally catches Molly's shoulder and rights her. Molly continues, "Men are stupid cause I'm pretty and nice." She sighs. "And it's okay if I'm not brilliant like... like bloody Sherlock or, or, or homicidal" (she stumbles over that word spectacularly) "like Jim." Her voice is rises and it's beginning to sound more like a wail.
"You're pretty too, Sally," Molly stage-whispers. She slides one hand toward Sally and Sally leaps out of her chair away from her.
"OKAY, I think that's quite enough for you," Sally says quickly. She gets the bartender's attention and instructs him to call a cab for Molly. Sally's resigning herself to having to watch Molly until her cab arrives, but her phone finally buzzes.
"Sorry, have to run," Sally says with a hurried wave, bolting out of the bar. When Anderson asks her later how she likes it, she fully intends to answer, "Earlier."
