Chapter Text
"Y/N, you're fucking insane." Colby grumbles, struggling as he unbuckles one of his best friends out of the backseat of his car. She, however, seems completely unbothered by him maneuvering her into an upright position. She's giggling, actually, a direct contrast to her mascara streaked cheeks. She's drunk, wasted. Three sheets to the wind, if you will.
He already had to put two other drunk messes to bed tonight, Y/N's his third. He should be getting paid per person and per difficulty. Nate was the easiest to subdue, followed by Sam who put up a brief 'I'm not even drunk, dudeeee' kind of fight. And now her.
The party was at Sam's house so the previous two didn't require any special treatment other than being dunked into Sam's bed. Y/N however...
She'd pleaded with Colby, the most sober one of the bunch, to just let her be. Let loose, get drunk, flirt around a bit. That being said, four hours later - two hours past her curfew - when he tried prying her away from the drink table she put up one hell of a fight.
"You have the balance of a newborn giraffe! You're done! I'm cutting you off!" He'd yelled over the music, hearing his own parents' scolding in his tone but he ignored it. He had to take on the parenting role with his friends, it was his turn after all. He knows they'd do the same - they've done the same - when he was plastered. He owed them the same curtesy. Especially Y/N.
She's usually on parenting duty, not really on the heavy drinker side. But after the fight with her parents she told him about earlier, he can't blame her for wanting to drown it out with a few extra shots.
A few too many extra shots.
He was planning on just safely storing her in one of the guestrooms for the night and playing nurse the following morning when all three would undoubtedly have a hangover. But that's when Y/N's cognitive thought kicked in.
"My parents are gonna kill me if I don't make it home tonight! I can't sleep here!" She was - and still is - heavily slurring her words but the thought of further pissing off her folks drove her into an almost sobering panic. "Call me an Uber while I find my shoes. What time is it?"
Colby had carefully dodged around answering that question, knowing it would send her into a full blown heart attack knowing she was running so late. He tried telling her on time but she'd blown him off, saying she didn't care about the stupid curfew or at least that's how much he'd caught from her string of slurred rambles.
"You're not getting an Uber at this hour. Come on, I'll drive you." He'd said reassuringly as he picked up one of her stray shoes.
They soon found the second one and her missing purse and within fifteen minutes they'd gotten in his car and were gliding down the road with the speed of a tortoise. At this point in time Colby was neither drunk nor tipsy but that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as he operated the vehicle.
"I don't wanna go to Barton!" He'd believed she was asleep after the long stretch of silence following their departure so her sudden exclamation was quite startling.
"You won't, Y/N. You're coming with us to LA, remember?" He believed in that lie as much as she did, but he needed to soothe her somehow.
"Not according to mom! I'm gonna be stuck here in Kansas all my life!" Her anger was now engulfed by sobs Colby gently offered tissues for.
He stayed quiet and let her ramble, only partially listening to the words spilling directly from her heart. He especially tried drowning out the part where she went on a whole rant abut her massive crush on Nate.
But, alas, he wasn't successful, seeing as how he was white-knuckle-gripping the steering wheel more than half the way to her house.
That's how they've ended up here - one a giggly and mascara stained drunken mess and the other a bitter and regretfully sober babysitter. Well, babysitter, Uber driver and therapist all in one. He really should start charging for his services.
He wraps one of Y/N's arms around his shoulders, securing it there by holding her hand while his other arm fixates itself around her waist to keep her upright and at least semi steady on her feet.
With a silent prayer, he tries pushing the front door open with zero luck. It's locked.
He's cycling through all the stages of grief as he comes to terms with the fact that he will, unfortunately, have to ring the bell and alert Y/N's parents of their arrival.
He does just that, although quite begrudgingly, sighing heavily when he sees a light turn on through one of the windows. The sound of oncoming footsteps follows.
His eyes are soon met with the unpleasant glare of Y/N's mom who - as he's picked up on from their handful of interactions - already isn't very fond of him.
Just him!
She's lovely to Sam and Nate, but he's not extended the same curtesy. You can visibly see the air around her get colder when she approaches him whereas she's always been so kind and welcoming to the other two people in their friend group. He hasn't been able to figure out why. Bringing it up to Y/N proved futile as she just shrugged and shook her head.
"No clue, Colbs. But don't take it personally. She's just like that." She had said, but it didn't sit right with Colby. It made no sense. And it continues to bother him.
And unnerve him, specifically now as he's being stared down by her icy gaze.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Y/L/N....just bringing Y/N home. She had a little too much to drink." There's no way in hell he could've concealed her drunkenness. She's hanging off of him with her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain over her face. He wouldn't be surprised if he were to find her already asleep.
"You know where her room is." There's an edge to her scoff that could slit a man's throat, but Colby chooses not to dwell on it. Truly, he can't, seeing as how she's already moving away from the doorway and down the hall into the living room, leaving him to deal with the mess she thinks he caused.
He can't find it in himself to be offended right now, although he probably will be later. He has bigger fish to fry.
And so, with his options limited, he opts to pick her up bridal style so he can easily carry her up the stairs. He hopes to God her parents don't see this and get the wrong idea.
Oh if he only knew what's to come...
As carefully as he can, he settles his unconscious best friend on her bed, tucking her in. He's murmuring reassuring words under his breath as he does so, not sure if they're meant for her or him but in the end it all works out.
"Night, Y/N." With that whispered in the darkness of the room and a gentle kiss on her temple, he makes his exit, briefly stopping at the bottom of the stairs to peek into the living room, "Good night, Mrs. Y/L/N."
"It's almost morning." Her reply is on-par with most of their interactions so he just pushes past it, shaking his head slightly before leaving out the front door.
As he does so, he notices the sky has taken on a brighter shade of blue, signaling Y/N's mom really wasn't exaggerating. With a sigh, he gets back behind the wheel, heading to Sam's house to check on his other two patients.
* * * * *
Her head is pounding but you'd never be able to tell from the giant grin on her face as she sprints through the neighborhood, skipping through backyards and hopping the occasional fence to cut the trip short. The strap of a duffle bag is slung over her shoulder, she's clutching onto it tightly. It has all her belongings in it, after all. It's of upmost importance she doesn't lose it.
That's be rather unfortunate right after spontaneously moving out, wouldn't it?
She wouldn't say she got kicked out of the house per-se. That would indicate that she was thrown out against her will. Quite the contrary actually. She was more than happy to leave. Had she known those were the magic words, she would've said them so much sooner.
She catches herself before she can make a face-first collision with Sam's front door, stopping to catch her breath and knock a couple of times. And a couple more times. And a few more times.
It's safe to say she's impatient. But with the news she has, you can't blame her.
"Stop! Stop!" A disheveled Sam finally opens the door, one hand partially covering his pale face, "Too loud..."
Y/N gives herself a moment to feel guilty and hug him apologetically before dashing inside. "Colby's here, right?"
"Yeah!" She hears his voice coming from the kitchen and immediately makes a beeline in his direction, dropping her bag in the foyer.
Upon entry, she finds Colby and Nate sitting by the kitchen island, both in different stages of 'the morning after'. Despite the crippling headache, however, the latter finds it in him to give her a genuine smile, sliding off the stool to envelop her in a hug.
"Aww, is someone hungover?" She mocks Nate, sneaking a sip from his Gatorade.
"Hey!" He complains, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her, "Give it back! I need it way more than you do."
Colby, unable to stomach their interaction - for reasons he doesn't want to get into right now - busies himself by looking down at his phone.
He's known of Y/N's little crush on Nate for months now. At first it was only speculation based off her demeanor around him. And then it was more like a punch to the gut when she tipsily confirmed it one night.
"Colbs?" Her voice snaps him out of his brief bitter spiral, forcing him to look up, "Can I borrow you outside for a sec?"
He's struggled with saying 'no' to her since the day they met. Not that he wants to turn her down, he just wishes he could.
And wishes she didn't. Without even knowing it. Turn him down, that is.
With a nod, he follows her out to the patio where the sun isn't kind to either of them, adding gasoline to the fire of their raging hangovers.
"Sup?" Try as he might, he has never been good at feigning nonchalance around her.
It's surprising to see her nervous. For once, he believes their playing field to be even. "So...I've got good news wrapped up in bad news."
Her words would panic him a lot more had she not come in like a force of nature with a gleaming smile adorning her face. Still, it's not at the top of the list of things he wants to hear on a Saturday morning. So, with an exaggerated sigh, he signals for her to continue, "I'm all ears. The last twenty four hours can't get much worse."
He watches her face twist as she cringes, well aware she's about to prove him wrong, "Well...." With a deep breath, she finally spits it out, "The good news is, I'm coming with you guys to LA."
Colby doesn't spare a second, momentarily forgetting the bad news she'd mentioned as he scoops her up in a hug, "No fucking way! Hell yeah! I fucking told you!" He can't describe the immense joy and relief he's feeling right now. "Kiss that Barton College shit goodbye!"
Giggling, Y/N kicks her feet, looking for solid ground beneath them. Not that she's in a rush to be set back down. In fact, for a split second, she wishes this moment could last forever.
But, she's aware it's impossible.
Suddenly, she feels guilt creeping in for even letting that thought run loose in her head. She doesn't even know how or why it popped up.
She just knows she's about to ruin it all.
"One problem..." It's actually far more than one, but they'll dissect that later on. She just has to get the main one out the way, "You see, how that came to be...."
"You have no shame! You get wasted at parties, break rules, come home past curfew." Mrs. Y/L/N's voice is shaking the house, echoing twice as loudly in Y/N's head as she's just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. "Random people are bringing you home at dawn!"
She has the gull to argue back, "Colby is not just some random person, mom!"
"Oh yeah, he of all people was the one bringing you home! What the hell, Y/N?!"
Her mom has never liked Colby. The problem is, no one knows why. Y/N isn't sure if her mom even knows why. She tried asking once, it didn't go over so well.
But that's when two and two click together into a four in her head - a bright idea. Actually, 'dim' would be better. Nothing bright is welcome within her proximity with the splitting headache she's nursing.
Without a second thought, she blurts out: "What's so wrong with having my boyfriend take me home after a party?"
Her words ring out like a gunshot in the quiet house. Yet they are nothing in comparison to the explosion of her mother's anger in response.
Colby's mouth is hanging open, his gaze piercing through more so than focusing on his friend.
She, on the other hand, is sweating bullets, anxiously waiting for him to say something and break the long silence that has fallen upon them. When he doesn't, she wills herself to whisper a mousy little "I'm sorry."
Finally, a voice leaves his parted lips: "Y/N, you're fucking insane."