Hey Stranger

Note - I wrote this short fic for Maria ( all-perks-of-not-being-me on Tumblr) because this amazing woman is a constant inspiration for everyone to be kind and lovely. Happy belated birthday, Maria. I hope you had a wonderful day.

I think…

No, I'm pretty sure.

I'm pretty sure that I'm a hundred percent, completely, utterly, undeniably sloshed.

Hammered.

Shit-faced.

Take your pick.

I wobble on my feet as I push myself off the bar stool. Mary's laughter is a shrill echo in my ear, and my head throbs when she grabs onto my wrist.

"Lily! Where are you going?"

"The loo," I'm screaming. Why am I screaming?

Oh right. It's the music. It's relentless, loud as fuck and doesn't help with the colors blooming in front of my eyes.

"I need to pee."

"Do you want me to come with?" Mary offers, though her slurred words and idiotic grin tells me she's well on her way to being sloshed as well. I'm just about to shake my head 'no' when there's a loud crash in the room.

I look over to see that one of the tables in the club has just been toppled over, and a tangle of limbs scramble on the floor to get out from beneath the mess. There's some angry howling, and Mary cackles in delight.

"No, it's okay, you stay." I wave Mary off, and she distractedly nods her head, still making hyena-like noises.

I'm not sure how I'm suddenly in the washroom, but the cold water feels good when I cup it in my palms. I stare at the clear liquid with fascination, the ripples and tiny waves soothing my pounding skull. A small droplet skitters and slides all the way down to my right elbow, and before I can observe a single more detail, my stomach lurches.

Like, really lurches.

And then I'm off, launching myself at one of the stall doors and crashing onto my knees as the shots of tequila I'd generously chugged earlier make their way out of my system.

Again.

And again.

Gods, it's nasty.

My throat burns, my eyes water and my knees sting.

Distantly, I hear the bathroom door open, and kick my stall shut. A shame-faced encounter with a slightly-more-sober-than-me-drunk is not what I need at the moment. So I puke to my heart's content, and then stagger back to my feet.

My mouth feels disgusting, and there are tears streaming down my cheeks as I make my way back to the sink. Luckily, the pounding seems to have gone down.

The cold water feels even better than it did in my palms when I splash it on my face. I take a couple more seconds to rinse out the taste of vomit from my mouth before reaching into the back pocket of my jeans for my phone.

However, I startle and drop it when the stall behind me opens noisily.

Which is when I see it.

Hazel.

The most beautiful, intriguing and deep swirls of hazel that have me blinking owlishly for a second before I realize that they're eyes attached to a person.

Eyes that are distinctly shocked as they stare at mine through the mirror.

And also eyes that belong to a man.

A man. In the woman's loo.

(A very handsome man, but that's beside the point)

"Uhh," He clears his throat awkwardly, and I swiftly turn around to face him. "I don't think you're supposed to be in here."

"Me?!" I splutter, sincerely hoping I don't have puke on my face, even though my red eyes and shaky hands are a dead giveaway. "You shouldn't be here. You're lucky no one else is here."

He stares at me silently, cocking his head to the side.

Through my haze of intoxication, I can still tell that this is one handsome specimen. Not in a classically beautiful way, but he's got a certain charm about him. Crazy hair that no amount of deliberate ruffling could produce, a lean, tall build, a delicious caramel tan, and God, those eyes.

If only they weren't staring at me with poorly hidden amusement.

"This is the men's loo."

"Yeah right—"

And then ugly sobriety slams into me in the form of sharpened senses. I notice something that looks suspiciously like a urinal from the corner of my eye, and can no longer speak with conviction.

An apprehensive turn of the head proves that the Gods above indeed hate me.

It's a line of urinals.

Not one. Not two. But five.

How the hell does one miss that?!

"Oh fuck!" I moan, covering my eyes with my hands because it's the better option. "I'm in the men's loo."

"I mean, I did tell you," Weird, hot stranger is laughing now.

He has a nice laugh.

"Shut up." I'm beyond embarrassed. This is somehow worse than if he'd caught me puking.

"Here," he suddenly pulls one hand away from my face and drops my phone onto it. Luckily, there are no cracks. "It's alright, you look like you're having a rough night. I promise not to tell anyone."

I flush a little at the proximity. He's unnaturally good-looking up close.

How's that even possible? Aren't people destined to look worse zoomed in?

He smiles at me, and my brain is mush.

"Thanks. I—uh, I'm sorry."

"No harm done. Just be careful. Are you here alone?"

"No, I've a friend outside."

"Okay good. I was just asking to make sure you're okay, not being creepy or anything," He says, and then immediately winces, his hand rushing to ruffle his hair, "Okay, I realize that sounded like a lie when said out loud, but I swear—"

"I know," My chuckle cuts him off. "You don't give off creep vibes, don't worry."

"Oh thank goodness," He grins, "You've got good, strong instincts then."

"You have to when you're a woman," I shrug.

"Especially such a pretty one."

Cue more blushing.

"I, uh, thanks." I bite my lip around a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I should probably get going."

"Right, of course," He smiles, but the shine in his hazel eyes seem to dim a bit.

I catch onto that like a foolish little high school girl, my heart soaring with hope.

"But maybe…I'll see you around?"

The smile then transforms into a smirk, and my stomach gives an excited flop. "I think I'd like that."

"Great." My hands are barely steady as I push my phone at him, but I no longer know if it's the puking or my nerves. "So if you could just punch in your number real quick before my best friend tears the club down looking for me, it'll be a big help."

"Gladly at your service," He tips his head, amusement lighting up his eyes as his fingers tap away at the screen. "Here, all done."

"Thank you," I say, taking the phone from him and looking down at the contact, "James."

"That's me." He says, a goofy smile on his face as I begin backtracking out of the bathroom. "And you are?"

"Lily," I reply, my hand on the door knob now, "Lily Evans."

"Think you'll remember me through your hangover tomorrow, Lily?"

"I think you're underestimating yourself, James."

"You mean underestimating you?"

"No, I mean underestimating how charming and good-looking you are. I'm bound to remember you."

He laughs, "I seriously hope you don't forget this tomorrow."

"I doubt you'll let me."

"You're probably right. I'd scour the whole city looking for you."

I grin. "Goodbye, James."

"Goodbye, Lily."

And then I stumble out of there, blissfully ignoring the weird looks I get from a couple of judgmental assholes.

Can't a poor drunk girl accidentally enter the wrong bathroom, puke her guts out and, by some miracle, procure a gorgeous date in the process in peace?

Is that really too much to ask for?

I don't think so.

I tell as much to Mary as we make our way back to the apartment. She assures me that I was hallucinating and will forget all about it next morning.

I tell her to piss off.

And when I wake up in the morning, chug my black coffee and take an Advil, I can at least proclaim that I was right.

I have a date in T-minus 5 hours.

A/N - Come find me on Tumblr maraudersftw. We can fangirl about Jily together.