[maidstone party] ride on the rush [mavis]

cw: underage alcohol use, impaired decision making, to be edited as needed.

you're still with me then, feels so good in my arms
they say you go blind
maybe it's true
April 2004
maidstone, approximately ten thirty pm

Get a room! Mercutio hollered, throwing a pillow at Killian’s head. Killian pulled himself away rom Mavis and laughed, hauled both of them off the couch where they had settled after Truth or Dare. On the stairs, he flipped the bird at Mercutio over the railing.

Killian stumbled on the last stair, flailing forward before catching himself and bursting into laughter. Everything was so funny right now and everything was so beautiful and Mavis was right behind him on the stairs and everything was right.

He pulled himself back up, one hand grasping for Mavis again, the other reaching forward and pushing open doors. A very quiet voice in the back of his head mentioned something about respecting other people’s houses, but MacTaggert had fully set up beer pong on the front lawn so, like, whatever? It wasn’t like they were going to wreck anything.

There weren’t that many doors. Door number one was a very narrow half-bath. Door number two was a tiny, tiny closet. Door number three was a small bedroom -- or, at least, a room with a bed in it. “Bingo,” he crowed, tugging Mavis into the room and closing the door behind them, then dipping his head down to kiss her.

In private he could be more present in the kiss, lose himself in it more, let his eyes flutter closed and stay closed without worrying about missing a flying pillow. Killian pulled away from Mavis, breathless, grinning, giggling despite himself. His lips tasted like – he wasn’t sure, licked them again with renewed focus. They tasted like white wine and light beer and Mae’s lip gloss. None of those flavors should go together, but they made so much sense right now. 

“I adore you, Mae,” he said, compliments falling somehow even more easily from his lips in this inebriated state. “My god, you are the best.”

@Mavis Nandamuri

Mavis had been drunk once, maybe twice, in the entire sixteen years of her life, but she had never been this trashed before. Everything was floaty, she felt like she was gliding up the stairs behind Killian, and when he fell a little, it was like her entire world got turned on its side. Since the party began, the passage of time was no longer measured in minutes but rather the number of drinks, and even that number was starting to get fuzzy. She had had a beer (gross), and then an alcopop (so much better), and then some nonsense Magnolia created in the kitchen. It must have had three different kinds of alcohol, and Mavis had spilled some of it on her jumper, but there was also juice, so it was not awful. (Or she was too drunk to notice)

MacTaggert had yelled something at them, but Mavis had been too distracted by everything else to listen, and then Killian was pulling her away, and she was quick to go. Laughing with him as he led her up the stairs, away from the music and the twinkling lights, and started opening doors. The moment the door latched, Killian's lips pressed against hers, and Mavis leaned into him. It was like something out of one of Magnolia's romance novels. Her hands moved up between them to lay on his chest (his neck was so far up there, even with him leaning down toward her[/i]), and she kissed him back the way she imagined the witches in those books kissed their boyfriends.

Everything seemed safer in the relatively quiet and somewhat dark room, and Mavis thought of nothing but Killian. With her eyes closed, the world stopped spinning, but it was as if her stomach didn't get the memo. Her heart raced as they moved away from the door and further into the room; she could taste the wine on his lips. Killian spoke, but she did not want him to stop kissing her, so she nodded and murmured and reached for him. Mae, Goddess, did she like it when he called her Mae, and when he said nice things, and just in general. "I adore you, too, Killian," She followed, too drunk and entirely too distracted to come up with anything original to say in return.

Her hands pushed against his chest as if they were on auto-drive, ushering him toward the bed, but only because she was desperate to sit down before the floor fell out from under her. And being closer to Killian sounded like the best idea in the world right now.

They were, the best, at kissing, in the whole world. Killian crouched down a little more, hand curling around the nape of his girlfriend’s neck to bring her closer. Warm and wet and tingly and yes this was excellent. He was almost upset that Mavis didn’t just keep macking on him, but I adore you too was so lovely to hear that he didn’t really mind.

Mavis was pulling him toward the bed. Bed. Bed! Lying down. That sounded marvelous. Killian laughed again, for no clear or apparent reason, letting the push of Mavis’ lovely soft hands buffett him around until he fell, first onto his butt and then his back, onto the bed.

His shoes were still on, so rude! He toed them off, kicked them off the side of the bed onto the floor. “C’mere,” he mumbled, words slurring together a touch. Kilian wrapped his arms around Mavis, pulled her closer so they were lying, nose to nose, before having an absolutely genius idea. He wasn’t actually as strong as Mavis, no sports muscles to speak of, but height was leverage -- it wasn’t hard to pull Mavis on top of him, her hair falling into his eyes. “Now you’re taller,” he said, bursting into giggles.

If someone had told Mavis a few months ago where she would be now, she would have probably smacked them on the arm. That she’d have a boyfriend as charming as Killian, AND that she would be making out with said boyfriend at Party! It was like something the teen witch had only read about in stories. And yet, here she was, more than a few beers and too much alcohol in, pushing Killian toward a bed that belonged to neither one of them. Absently and with a certain lack of focus, Mavis wondered if the bed belonged to anyone at all. Was it Billie’s? Or whoever had lived here before? Did it matter? Mavis would not let it, and the second her knee hit the bed, she’d forgotten the extremely vague story of Billie’s aunt she heard, and her thoughts returned to Killian.

Killian laughed, and Mavis followed, his cheer was infectious, and she could not keep the stupid smile off her face. Not even when he kissed her, she had to force herself to remember not to smile into every single kiss. The idea of their teeth clicking again was still fresh in her mind. Thankful for her holographic slip-on wedges (the sort that had a tiny heel, because honestly, Mavis needed all the help she could get in the height department), she giggled again as they fell off her feet and onto the floor. The teenager followed her boyfriend (boyfriend!) onto the bed, using his arms around her to keep her steady, as the world felt like it might fall over again. Their movements rippling across the mattress were like waves on the ocean, and she felt unsteady, falling into Killian as he pulled her on top of him.

Having a boyfriend was one thing, but never-ever-in-a-million-gazillion-years had she expected this to happen tonight. And while she knew they were only kissing, and she trusted Killian more than herself, there were still little thoughts in the back of her mind. Like did she have bad breath or too much to drink, or would he want more from her than other times they had snogged? Being away from Hogwarts and the lack of privacy at school added new pressures on tonight. And Mavis was way too drunk to deal with them in her typically chaotically organized, bullet-pointed, and over-highlighted sort of way.

The worry could have taken her far away, but Killian giggled, and Mavis forgot all about what she had been thinking. “I’ve never been taller than anyone,” She confessed with a giggle, covering her mouth as her smile reached her eyes. She remembered that she was taller than Esther one miraculous summer, but that was the last thing she wanted to think about now. Pulling her long black hair over her shoulder, away from his face, Mavis smiled again. Laying on top of him, the young witch marveled in the new view. She could have stared at him for a while, and being this drunk time surely would have moved slow enough to afford it. But, instead, Mavis leaned back in to kiss him again. Absently, she wondered if she might try to do the thing she’d read about in Witch Weekly and tried to remember what the article had said about giving someone a hickey.