Short: Smashing. Smash. Smashed.

She stood properly at the center of the doormat, feet spaced perfectly apart yet kept together in just a way that said “I’m just standing!!” Her clothes were immaculate: perfect gray shirt with a faded zebra print on the front, the fabric thin and very comfortable; over that, a very soft, black hoodie that ended at her waist but with sleeves so long they covered her knuckles; jeans that hugged her hips, her thighs, her calves and flared off just a bit past there, hiding her ankles encased in a pair of flats along with the rest of her feet. She raised her hand up, fingers curled just so to perfectly execute three little knocks.

That was what her mind fed to her when in reality she was leaning against the door and rapping against it with her forehead, grinning like an idiot. Her hands were nowhere near the door but on the door frame, both slightly fisted and on the motions of knocking without connecting with anything. At least she was using her head.

That was how he found her; rather, how he supposed she was before finding her for she promptly fell into his arms the moment he opened the door.

“Whoa—” he grunted as near-dead weight slumped into him in the form of a girl—he glanced down—a girl who looked like she put on her clothes with her eyes closed in the dark. Her hoodie was inside out, her shirt underneath not even halfway down her torso but thankfully covering her chest. The only thing she seemed to get right were her pants and shoes.

Vaguely he wondered why she was here in the first place and looking like…well… But he supposed it was the universe’s memo for him to stay put tonight. Besides, she smelled good and felt good against him; so no problem there. What was that, a small hint of some kind of flower..and something else. If only he could close the door.

“Heeeyyyyyy!” She smiled, stepping forward (or stumbling forward) to hug him which was weird to do when she was already against him and her arms were, well. They flopped around his shoulders after smacking him on both ears. “Ow!” Oh well, so her perception is off. It propelled them further into the hall which allowed her to kick the door closed behind her and she laughed when she heard it close with a satisfying click. She was a genius!

Now there was the matter of telling him. She did come over to tell him something, if only she could remember it.

He looked at her amusedly as he listened to her slur her words and end her sentences with a strange lilt that made her sound like she was trying to be prim and proper, but only ended up making her sound like a total.. well. Either way, she sounded amusing, especially when she was talking to herself.

“So you can’t tell me what you came here for?” he asked. His arms, circled around her waist, tightened as he shuffled them backwards to the living room. His task was made easier when she simply wrapped her legs around his hips. He didn’t complain. The feel of her—he thanked the universe for giving him this perfect opportunity.

“Nope,” she nodded, paused, then shook her head just as she settled against his neck. “Oh wait.. I came here to tell you something..”

“But you forgot.”

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

“I’m amazed you can carry me,” she giggled. “And your hands aren’t even on my ass.”

He snorted, though his face felt warm with slight embarrassment. “You being short makes my job easier. I did say I can just pick you up and toss you wherever.”

“Mmmmhhhmmmmm… you did say that, huh…”

He set her down on the couch, immediately propping her up with the few throw pillows he had so she wouldn’t topple over. Incidentally, they were the throw pillows she had gotten for him, saying that they were useful. He hadn’t thought them any more useful until now, of course.

Straightening up, he finally gave her a proper look-over. Her hair was in a really messy bun, some tendrils have escaped and were sticking to her neck and the side of her face. Her cheeks were tinged pink, as were the tips of her ears. She was frowning up at him, “What did I say about calling me a midget..?” He supposed she seemed put together.

Scratch that; her pants weren’t even zipped and her left shoe was pink while the other was brown.

“Uh, did anyone touch you?” he asked, his eyebrows rising as he eyed her disheveled state. Some worry was seeping into him after seeing her fly undone and, to his horror, she was giving him a peek at her lacy panties.

“You did, silly,” she grinned up at him, momentarily forgetting her distress about being vertically challenged compared to his tallness. Her hands reached up for him before she even realized they were moving. Her subconscious didn’t want him looming over her, apparently.

“I mean before you came over,” he took her hands and put them on her lap to try to cover the temptation, sitting down next to her. “Where have you been?”

“My place,” she supplied helpfully, turning her head to keep looking at him. He was very nice to look at. “I was enjoying a cooler when I suddenly thought of something and I had to come over.”

“A wine cooler? Or a whole cooler of…” She cut him off with her giggles. “Silly,” she bubbled, her hand flopping uselessly over his arm in what he supposed was her current interpretation of a swat. “I just had a bottle.”

He shook his head. “So nobody else touched you?”

“You know I wouldn’t let anyone touch me unless it’s you…” she grinned at him and he had to remind himself that she was hopelessly… well. So he changed the subject. After all, she seemed pretty put-together even for… her, and that ended his concern for her well-being in that department.

“Sure it was just one bottle?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, then I guess you had quite a big one..” he muttered to himself, moving to rise from the couch towards the kitchen with every intent to sober her up. He cringed when she belted out belatedly, “That’s what she said!” He didn’t even want to follow up on that anymore.

As he was going through the motions of preparing coffee, he heard muffled muttering and occasional giggles from the living room at which point he was half-tempted to see what she was up to. But he deemed the coffee more important at the moment, so it wasn’t until he finished setting up his coffee machine that he went back to the couch with a glass of water.

She was sprawled on the couch, the pillows now piled on her head, feeling absolutely accomplished. She had made a fort with just three pillows! And she promptly said this to him, adding, “See? Didn’t I say they were useful?”

“Yes, you did,” he sighed, sitting on the floor right by her head and pulling off the pillows. “But let’s not have you suffocate looking like that.” He didn’t take well to the idea of having her die from lack of air in a fort, much less having her die in her current state. The police would never believe him besides. He raised the glass of water and offered it to her. “I’ve got coffee brewing. In the meantime, you need this.”

“I don’t want water,” she pouted at him, her eyes half-lidded and adorable, as far as adorable went in inebriety.

He turned and placed the glass on the coffee table, saying, “We’ll wait for the coffee then. Afterwards—”

“With chocolate?”

“Yes, with Ovaltine.”

“And milk?”

“Of course, and four spoons of sugar is a given.”

“Okay,” she nodded. Then, “I remember what I was supposed to tell you now,” she said to him, looking at him with slightly wide eyes. He watched with a strange hunger as her tongue peeked from between her rosy lips and trail around them and all of a sudden, he felt like he would never be satisfied again. Oh man. Why did he let her in again? Because they were friends. Yes. Friends. Because she was drunk, too. He couldn’t very well leave her outside to bash a hole in her head on his door—or vice versa—either way, he didn’t want to deal with the damages.

“Heeeeeeeyy..! You’re not listening!” she pouted indignantly at him, her (very dulled) astute senses noting his glazed stare and the rigidness of his body. It was like he turned into a statue just as her brain was kind enough to help her remember what she came here to do! And just as she was about to continue what she was saying, the doorbell went off. “I got it,” she started to say, trying to get up but ending up rolling and flopping onto the wood floor. Giggle. He shook his head as if to silently say, “Uh-uh…”

“I said i got it..” Another futile struggle to sit up, this time thoroughly sprawling her limbs all over the couch. He briefly wondered where all that sudden height came from, seeing as she seemed to cover all of the couch. “My legs are misbehaving!”

“Yes, they are,” he sighed, all of a sudden feeling weary. He had fantasized about her legs at one point, and it would do him well not to think about them as he straightened her out on the couch and dropped the pillows over her stomach and lap. Putting away his misery at seeing but not touching her naked abdomen. “Why don’t you rebuild your fort without suffocating yourself this time,” he spoke like he was talking to a toddler—which she really is in her case at the moment—”Can you do that?”

“Yessir,” she slurred, secretly delighted that she got the pillows back. If only she could get her limbs to work properly. The couch seemed to have sucked out her coordination, and she idly wondered if the couch had any plans of bringing her down…or if it wanted to take over the world. Starting with offing her. Couches were potentially evil that way.

For all his gentlemanly upbringing along with visions of his stern-faced grandmother beating him with her cane, he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman currently occupying his couch. He was feeling like an absolute dumbass with the way he was fighting an internal battle between righteousness and carnal desire. She was his friend, for crying out loud! But then his body didn’t seem to mind that. Oh god, he needed to get laid fast. What was wrong with him anyway? Why was he getting this worked up over seeing a naked stomach? Because he hadn’t had any in a while, that was why.

But why was he battling himself on this? Why couldn’t he have appreciative thoughts about her? There was the fact that she was a close friend but still; it wasn’t like he was going to take advantage of her. Wouldn’t this make checking her out easier for him? Definitely. Yes. Good. Even his grandmother wouldn’t beat him up over this.

With his mind put at moderate ease, he opened the door.

And another body crashed into him; arms slung perfectly around his neck, warm body pressed snugly against his. It was like the universe was rewarding him for his efforts and for following its suggestions. Yay, him! But the strongest perfume assaulted his senses; it hurt his nose…or was that the hairspray? It could be both. Women and their attachments.. Wait. Who was this?

“I just thought I’d stop by,” he heard the mystery woman say. “I mean, I haven’t seen you all week and I was wondering if you would want to go out tonight…” Oh. Right. Right. The lady he met somewhere whom he took out last week…somewhere. Her voice was hot; seductive like chocolate and velvet. (When did he start thinking like the crazy lady in his couch?) He just didn’t follow up on her because she was—

“Why, look at you!” she gushed, laying her hands on his arms and stepping back to eye him properly in his old jeans and t-shirt and he let her because he was wracking his brain for a name to attach to this woman’s angular yet soft face. “You look smashing!”

Yes, she was a bit overbearing.

“Oh, run away,” a hazy giggle came from the couch, “she’s gonna smash you…!”

Yes. Her name was Renee! Renee the lady he bumped into at a coffee shop and had ended up talking with her and ultimately asked her to dinner. It was a bad idea from the start, but upon his best friend’s insistence, he had to take her out. And now he had to get her out of his apartment. There was no way he was going to let her in.

“Who is that?” Renee raised her eyebrows and slid her hands away from his arms, walking past him and into the hall. Too late. “Er, well that’s..” He sounded nervous? Well, of course he would be. He didn’t want his best friend to embarrass herself in front of someone no matter how insignificant Renee was.

By now Renee was standing next to the couch, looking down at what he could imagine would be a mess. He was muttering silent apologies to the woman currently lounging on his couch for allowing Renee to see her in such a predicament.

“Is she…”

“Yes, she’s had too much to drink,” he said hastily, gently taking Renee’s elbow and steering her back to the hallway; but not before taking a peek over the couch to make sure his crazy friend wasn’t trying to eat his throw pillows. She wasn’t. In fact, she had the pillows arranged around her middle like an igloo of sorts, and he was relieved that it covered her exposed stomach and her open fly. “I’m smashed…” she giggled up at him, grinning at her moment of drunken wit. He was doubly relieved that she listened to him; she hardly ever did just to set him off.

“I have to stay and make sure she doesn’t end up flying out a window,” he continued as he walked the surprisingly silent Renee to his door, who was by then thinking that she had been played. “So I’m afraid I can’t go out tonight.”

“So you and her are together?” Renee asked bluntly, looking confused. “I mean ’cause you said you weren’t seeing anyone…”

“You’re right, I’m not,” he nodded, daring another toxic inhalation as he reached around Renee to open the door. “She’s a friend.” Like he kept repeating to himself. It was at that moment that Renee latched onto him again and soaked his senses in her perfume and hairspray, happily saying something about seeing him another time. After dooming himself to another day in her overpowering company, he finally shut and locked the door and walked back to the living room. There, he found her sitting up. He also noticed that the glass of water on the coffee table was empty.

“She smells good,” was the first thing out of her mouth once she saw him back. She seemed to be feeling less drunk, like she was trying to be more aware of her surroundings.

“Not up close.”