Bean Me Up, Scotty

8: Hot Shots

Two rounds of shots later, Scott had pretty much been knighted and honored with three Olympic medals for shot taking and Andie was not too happy about it. She pouted, whining as he downed another shot, completely unfazed.

"That's not fair! I'm littler than you," she argued but all Scott could do was laugh. She'd been arguing petulantly since the second round when it started to become apparent that his tolerance was leaps and bounds above hers. He attributed it to his high muscle mass, regular sleep schedule and, yeah, he was three times her size. Folding her arms across her chest, Andie huffed.

"I did warn you," he reminded her as she licked leftover salt from her wrist.

"Yeah, well... just cus you're attractive for an old man doesn't mean you can bully me." He stared at her, a wide grin on his face.

"I'm an old man now, am I? I'm only twenty-five."

"S'old," she retaliated, pointing to herself. "I'm only twen'y one. Full of youth and – and collagen."

"And tequila," Scott pointed out, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "No more shots – your friends would fucking kill me," he laughed. If any of his friends were to see him now, he thought absentmindedly, they'd probably think he was as drunk as the little spitfire grumbling under his arm. While Scott denied being a negative person generally, he couldn't argue that he was far from bright and cheery at the best of times. Yet, his face was starting to melt into a softer expression as he smiled genuinely down at the woman who was still arguing her point even as he led her away from the bar. His laughs weren't hollow or put on for the sake of a customer or business and, despite everything he thought he knew, he was having a really great time. Although his cheeks had started to hurt a little, so there was that.

"So really, in conclusion, basically you're a big cheat," Andie concluded, emphasizing her point as she jabbed a finger into Scott's chest. He pretended to wince, for her sake. She sighed, pushing her hair back from her face and letting her hand run through the loose curls, shaking them as they shone under the colored lights. An outsider could hardly tell she was drunk; she held herself well, her makeup still intact and dress covering everything that needed covering. It was only when she opened her mouth (which was frequently, as Scott discovered) that the effect of the tequila became apparent.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Scott somehow managed to keep hold of her long enough to get her seated in a booth. She dropped her purse onto the table, pouting as Scott sat down beside her. He let out a low chuckle.

"Oh, come on, don't get huffy just because you lost."

"I didn't lose, you cheated," Andie whined. "I demand a rematch."

"We did have a rematch – you lost that too. Not that it was a particularly good idea," Scott reminded her with a smirk. She just pouted even more.

"Big old man bully." Andie sighed, folding her arms under her chest as she sank back into the comfy circular booth seat. It was rather secluded and thankfully not nearly as sticky as she had initially expected. The lights in the club now seemed more attractive as they cast colored shadows over everything. She watched the way the pink light hit the planes of Scott's face and resisted the urge to reach up and run her fingertip along the curve of his cheekbone.

"You alright there?" Scott asked, chuckling to himself. Scratch that, she hadn't resisted the urge at all.

"'m good," Andie replied, dropping her hand and focusing instead on putting her thoughts into a coherent order. "How come you never said I looked nice when you picked me up?" She asked, the alcohol giving her the confidence to ask the question that had been burning in her gut. Scott shrugged.