Disclaimer: I don't own Total Drama or any of these characters

So, I've been in the Total Drama fandom ever since I was a child and I've just realised I've never written anything for it. Unbelievable! I decided to do a one-shot — Duncney thus being my favourite couple — and here this story is.

Also, tried out a new writing style and did it in second person. Hopefully I did that well. AND, this was written last year, so I'm not sure if there are any mistakes or not.

The tip of your nail circles the rim of the empty glass, sighing dreadfully. How could you have been so stupid enough to get yourself booted? Again? You surely knew that out of all the contestants, you were their fiercest one, who was willing to do practically anything to win.

However, you knew deep down that likability was also a fair contributing factor not to get yourself voted off, and you unfortunately didn't really have that. But you weren't going to dare go back into those deep, anxious thoughts.

So there you are, sitting on a cheap leather-material bar stool — where you could've sworn a wire was poking your ass — chugging down drink after drink. At this point, you've drank so much that the sour taste has become bland and made your throat numb. You weren't used too this many, you were supposed to be a responsible adult.

Things change. You think bitterly, biting on your lower lip.

All Stars was totally stupid anyway. It had been a little over a month since you were last at that monstrosity Chris claimed as Camp Wawanakwa. A week happened and you were over the whole thing(plus, your stupid lawyers weren't much help with your situation and you called off that too), but just this morning the whole season finally aired.

It was completely unknown to you. You thought it wasn't going to air for another week.

But next thing you remembered, the rhythmic lyrics of "I wanna be famous" began blazing through your speakers as you were switching channels, and now you were here.

You knew how badly hungover you'd be the next morning, but at this point, you were not giving any more fucks.

"Another vodka on the rocks," You mumble, sliding the glass cup to the bartender. He only eye-rolled before grabbing the cup and heading off to serve you.

"Life's been tough on you, princess."

You scold him, your breath smelling like a dead person. Ever since you starred on Total Drama, literally every human being, boy or girl, would call you 'Princess'.

You hate it with every fibre of your body. Of course you do. It reminds you perfectly of —

"Hey, only I can call her that."

Your neck cranes around and your hazel eyes were soon drowning into piercing blue eyes. You wanted to melt right there and then. Body quivering, your hand shakily grabs the refilled-glass and you chug it down instantly, your eyes are not going away from the boy standing there.

Duncan.

"What the fuck, man?" You spat in both hatred and disgust. That was the drink talking, because you know in all honesty you'd just blank him again.

Your mind was so desperate to ignore him, yet your shock hadn't worn off. What was Duncan doing in your town?

Scratch that; You decided to go into the city, wanting as far away as possible to your apartment.

You could've bumped into anyone from Total Drama, even Chris or Chef. But your luck just had to make it be him.

That jackass. The same guy who flirted with you non-stop on the island, only to cheat on you on live TV a few years later with a girl that was supposed to be your friend. And now he's here, claiming authority over calling you "Princess". Who the fuck does he think he is?

"Damn, girl. You reek of death," He muttered, pulling the barstool right beside you and seating himself.

Your knuckles clenched.

"The fuck are you doing here, Duncan?"

Your tone was cold and harsh, very clear to how you felt about the entire situation.

You hated him. You had to hate him.

"A friend of mine owns the bar. Say, weren't you the one who was against 'em pathetic drunks and druggies, yet here you are?"

Somehow, at that very moment, you despised him even more.

"Shut up," You mumble, your still-shaking hand whimpering as you slid the glass bottle against the counter once more.

"I'll pay for this one, man," You hear Duncan say, forcefully sliding a dollar bill on the counter as the bartender served you another drink with a heaved sigh.

"I can pay for my own drink, you know."

He scoffs, a hand running through his hair as he watches the bartender make your drink.

"But I'm offering to do this, you uptight ass. Even as a drunk, you can't loosen up a little."

A noise you've never made before escaped your lips, clearly offended by what he just said.

"Ugh, as if! I am totally a fun drunk… on, like, my ninth drink."

Your ex-boyfriend glares at you before drinking a glass of his own, you not even realising that he had purchased one for himself whilst you were conversing.

"How many have you had?"

You look down at your hands, tapping on each finger counting.

"E-eight."

A smirk grew on his face. "Well, then, Princess —"

"Don't call me that," You snap, but your voice was soon drowned out as he kept talking.

"— let's get you another drink. I mean, unless ninth-drink Courtney isn't as fun as you claim."

Your face grew a deepening shade of red. In all honesty, you had no idea how ninth drink Courtney was like. This was the furthest you've ever drank, and you've only ever been hungover about once or twice.

Your mind was racing, only one part of yourself screaming out how ridiculous this situation was and to just stay the hell away from Duncan.

But your heart was drawing yourself closer to Duncan like a magnet. Just because he cheated on you never meant that your feelings for him no longer remained, they were just replaced with fury.

And you knew for sure it was the drink that made you feel this way right now, but goddamn Duncan looked hot tonight.

It made your heart ache, yet burn for passion; his passion. The only thing this extra drink would do is make yourself hopefully loosen up, right?

You had nothing to lose.

"Another one, my good sir!" You exclaim, only this time Duncan slides the glass over to the bartender.

His eyes lit up as he saw your enthusiasm, but you pretend that you didn't notice.

Next thing you knew, you were chugging down that final drink. You almost gagged from how much you knew you fucked up your health system, your diet, your lifestyle, but that smirk on his face that hadn't removed made you continue.

You collapse onto the floor. His grin ultimately vanishes and you let out a long, loud burp, lying in such an awkward position.

"Court!" His face melts into an expression of concern, and soon enough, he's crouching over you, fanning your face.

"Oh, no. It's fine." You wave your hand dismissively as your shoulders relax into the position you're in. "I'm just a little tipsy."

"Have you ever had a ninth drink?"

"Of course!" You muster a smile as your eyelids begin drooping, however, you knew well enough that Duncan had not fallen for the act. "Okay… I have not. But this is fine."

"This is NOT fine, Courtney!"

But you ignore him, pressing your fingers down on the wooden floorboards to get yourself up. Somehow you manage, now leaning onto the cheap barstool, butt up in the air.

"Courtney, you need to go home," He says, stress dripping from his tone.

"Oh, really? Is it because I'm druuunk?" You singsong.

"You are dr-"

"Or is it because you can't put the mouse back in the house, if you know what I mean."

You finally sit on the chair, winking at him as he stares at you from up and down weirdly. The only sane part of your mind is screaming for you to escape this situation and go home to prevent yourself from doing something more embarrassing, but the drunk part was exclaiming wildly that with Duncan's expression, he is definitely checking you out.

Me-wow!

"I'm in stable condition, and I'm even more fun than normal-Courtney!"

His eyebrows furrow and you don't remember how, when, or why, but you grabbed him by the t-shirt and forcefully pushed your lips onto his, giving him a sloppy, half-assed kiss.

Though, he doesn't reciprocate.

Eyes wide open as he watches what you're doing, he soon pushes you by the shoulders and you steadily jump back into your seat.

A blush creeps your cheeks.

"So that's how it's going to be? Fine!" You state firmly.

"This isn't you, Courtney." His voice sounds worried, concerned, but you didn't care.

"'Course it's me!" You say, lifting your hands up in the air as you do so(you almost lose balance, however, Duncan pulled you back with the hem of your shirt instantly).

"My God, Duncy, you really wanna pull this thing off!" You hiccuped as Duncan muttered curse words to himself at that moment. You can hear some of his mumbles too, yet it comes into one ear and escapes through the other.

"She's drunk, I can't take advantage of her." Listening in from one, fleeing out the other.

"Fucking hell, ninth-drink Courtney is horny as fuck." In from one and then out the other.

"But is it true then that drunk words are just true thoughts?" In and out.

"Princess," The troublemaker begins aloud, grabbing your utmost attention, "say, how d'ya feel about the fact that I cheated on you."

You groan dramatically, head drooping by the mention. Yet Duncan sits there awaiting an actual verbal response, which you can tell. So you answer him anyway.

"Bullshit. You're bullshit. You cheating on me was bullshit. Gwen becoming my friend and then going off hooking up with you was bullshit. Total drama was bullshit."

Another hiccup escaped your throat, and then at this point, your unsweetened tea eyes cloud into something sincere that Duncan had only seen back during Total Drama Island. "But apparently not only I was thinking things were bullshit. Because to you, our relationship was bullshit."

His face slowly drops from seriousness to actual sympathy, but your focus is no longer on him; you stare down at your fiddling fingers from all your nervousness that suddenly appeared.

"I thought my love for you was fine, but to you? Bullshit. I thought I was trying hard enough to make our relationship work, but to you? Bullshit. We had different ideas with relationships mainly because we'd never been in a proper one and that sucks. You wanted to go with the flow while I wanted to be structured and organised, get what those girls in the movies got. But all I got stuck with was no cash and strangers constantly yelling out 'Princess' to me."

His river-of-thought orbs gently settled to the floor awkwardly as you spoke. He sighed, tapping his foot in no exact beat, and what was going on in his head was a mystery to you for sure.

"However," You extended, lips curving from what you were about to say, "the sex was never bullshit."

A chuckle escapes his mouth, yet he still doesn't look up to you. Not that you mind, though. Your drunk mind began spinning the bar stool around and around similar to those carnival rides.

"Can I get a napkin and a pen, please?" You hear Duncan ask, although your eyes are wandering anywhere else but to him.

Still spinning around in your seat, you feel Duncan's cold fingers suddenly trace on your skin, brushing against you and leaving the reminder that he was still there. You had stopped spinning. Heck, you had stopped breathing, as goosebumps began spreading your mocha skin and his wavering pools were crashing down into your chocolate floods. He finally looked back again.

"Let me drop your drunk ass home, Pr— Court."

You nod obediently, struggling to stand up and yet, Duncan holds your hand and helps you. Physical contact with him once again felt so needed, desperate, however at the same time it was as if the wait to feel it again was worth it.

As you two both slip into a taxi cab, you feel something being tucked into your pants pocket.

"Call me when you're not drunk or horny. I don't need to deal with that again."

"W-why?" Yet your query is slurred and your eyes begin to get blurry from tiredness.

His breath hitched slightly, "You'll see."

And fortunately enough, you did.