This fic is… a really, really sad attempt at humor. Really. The inspiration for it came from my forensics class, where we are currently learning about different types of drugs, and I turned to my beta and said, "Wouldn't it be cool if…?"
This was what resulted from that idea.
Don't get me wrong. I love Dietrich; he's one of my favorite characters.
If it makes you feel any better, you can pretend I was on drugs when I wrote it.
Don't worry, I promise I won't kill him. I like him too damn much…
Though he and the other Orden members may be a little OOC in this fic. Sorry 'bout that…
Disclaimer: If I owned Trinity Blood, why the hell would I be writing fan fiction for it?
Thanks to moonpixi – the beta of this fic, and my manager, and who is going to kill me if I don't continue with my other story very, very soon.
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Chapter 1: First Taste
Dietrich wandered through the city, absentmindedly looking around at the bright lights.
There was nothing to do.
That was, of course, why he was out here, wandering around. No one in the Orden wanted to play with him and his strings, or really do much of anything with him…
Honestly, they were all vampires! If he accidentally cut something off they could just regenerate it or reattach it, no big deal.
Unfortunately, no one else seemed to think of it that way.
Though he did find it a bit odd that whenever he seemed to get really bored he could never find anyone, not even Lord Cain. If they were all avoiding him over that little incident a few months ago then there was really no need to; Isaak had already made him promise not to play with members of the Orden, strings, and C4 ever again…
Granted, Lord Cain had enough problems with falling apart at random moments; he really didn't need Dietrich's help in that regard.
Still, it would have been interesting to see how well and how long he could hold Lord Cain before the Crusnik's body began to fall to pieces.
I wonder if I could control all the pieces separately?
No, best not to follow that train of thought. He much doubted that Contra Mundi would ever give him the chance to find out.
So there he was, left to wander around the city, wishing he could go to Rome and torture Esther some more, but Isaak had explicitly forbidden him to go anywhere near Rome.
Which left him so FREAKEN' bored…
There wasn't even anyone particularly interesting walking about near him.
He sighed.
And then a brilliant idea struck him.
Granted, it probably wasn't a good idea, and if Isaak ever found out he'd probably catch hell for it, but there was nothing else better for him to do.
Actually, there was nothing else period for him to do.
And so he once again set off, paying more attention to the signs that he passed, looking for a particular type…
Ah, found one.
Happy that he now had something to do, Dietrich grinned.
And entered "Jimmy, Jake, and Joseph's Bar".
It wasn't very well lit, but it was very crowded. Perfect for what he wanted – the bartender would hopefully be more interested in serving patrons drinks than in determining their ages.
Perfect.
Time to experiment.
……………………………………
About two hours later Dietrich decided that, yes, this was not his most brilliant idea yet. Actually, it had all the potential to be one of his worst.
He had lost count some time ago as to how many drinks he had had. He did know – or at least he thought – he had had maybe about 15 different drinks, of all different strengths and sizes.
And Isaak was going to kill him.
As it was, he had no idea what exactly he was currently drinking, or even what was in it; only that it had some really bizarre name…
He had discovered rather early on that many of the mixed drinks had ridiculously long names – he figured that was so that the drunker you were, the less likely you were to ask for one, on the grounds you could no longer pronounce it.
Oh, that was it. He was currently drinking a… Sour Apple Summer in the City.
He didn't remember asking for it though, only that he had seen one much, much earlier… like before drink number 4.
Not really paying attention, he drank the rest of the drink.
Maybe just one more………………………………………….
Isaak sighed and looked up from his computer and the report he was working on.
Something didn't quite feel right.
But what was it?
Ahhh, Dietrich wasn't pestering him.
Isaak blinked. That was actually rather odd, considering that Dietrich was almost always bored, and thus looking for something – or, more often, someone – to "play" with. And, since the others all tended to avoid Dietrich like the plague when he was bored, especially after that tragic accident with the C4, Dietrich was normally here, attempting to get him to do… something.
Since he wasn't here, however, that could only mean that Dietrich had found something to do.
Which… could be very bad.
Suddenly Isaak found himself experiencing a strange, sinking feeling…
He stood up from his computer immediately, with every intention of going and finding Dietrich before he maimed someone important. He turned around –
– And almost ran straight into Cain.
Who simply stood his ground and raised an eyebrow.
"Where, might I ask, is von Lohengrin, Magician?"
………………………………………
O.K., this was definitely the last shot. He did wish to return to the Orden somewhat sober.
What Dietrich was failing to understand was that he was far, far past any hope of even appearing sober to anyone other than, perhaps, the others who were totally smashed.
He threw back the tequila with a very, very vague sense of triumph.
O.K., but that really did have to be the last one.
Dietrich pulled a credit card out of his pocket, sliding it across the bar to the bartender.
He didn't even want to think about how much money he was spending.
Actually, just not thinking would be rather nice right about now …
Dietrich blinked, and realized he had been staring at the returned credit card for several minutes while his mind sort of drifted. Quickly he pocketed it and stood up.
Well, at least he attempted to stand up. The whole room was spinning, and he was immediately reminded that this had not been one of his better ideas.
Oh, I am so dead when Isaak finds out………………………………………
Dietrich wasn't entirely sure how he managed to return to the Orden – he seemed to be having rather major problems with remembering things today.
He really hoped he hadn't done something really stupid…
What he did know was that he was currently standing in front of headquarters, with absolutely no memory of how he had gotten there. His head felt so fuzzy; he shook his head to try to clear it.
O.K., bad idea number… something. He'd lost track some time ago of all the bad decisions he had made that night.
But the world was spinning in such an interesting fashion…
Maybe he could get to his room and collapse without anyone seeing him.
Quickly he opened the door and stepped into the large entrance hall.
And ran straight into Cain.
"I sincerely hope this doesn't become a trend of some sort…" the blond muttered, staring rather coldly at Dietrich, who had no idea what he was even talking about. That was the first time he had run into him, wasn't it? But Cain was continuing. "Where the hell have you…" he stopped suddenly, narrowing his eyes slightly and examining Dietrich a little closer before letting confusion take its place and turning around to face someone.
Shit. Isaak.
So much for trying not to be seen…
Cain turned back to him, his face unreadable. "… Are you drunk?"
He really didn't want to answer that question.
But then the whole world tilted in yet another absolutely fascinating way before everything went black…
…………………………………
I… feel like shit.
That was really the only way to describe it.
His head felt like it was being smashed under a building – repeatedly. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, he was thirsty, nauseous, and exhausted, and every little light and sound was sending more pain shooting into his head.
It really didn't help that Isaak was standing there looking at him.
Well, at least he was in his bed in his room. That part could have been worse.
And Isaak smiled at him all too cheerfully.
"Good morning, Dietrich! And how are we feeling today?" He asked rather loudly, flipping the light switch to turn on all the lights in the room.
Dietrich simply moaned, shutting his eyes tightly and burying his head under the blankets.
"So I'm to assume the answer is 'not well'." Isaak's voice had acquired a decidedly vicious tone to it.
Dietrich didn't even bother to answer.
"Do you even realize just how… lucky… you are? I'm surprised you even made it back here at all, never mind in one piece. Do you have any idea how high your blood alcohol level was? It was through the roof. And you are ridiculously lucky that Lord Cain found the whole thing rather humorous – I think it kept him from taking your head off right then and there."
Dietrich winced slightly under the blankets. "Please don't speak so loudly…" he begged.
"Oh, so you'd like me to speak louder?" Isaak said, raising his voice.
Dietrich made a sort of strangled whimper.
"Well, then maybe next time you'll actually think about what you're doing." Isaak's voice had turned cold enough to freeze nitrogen. "Get up. There's a meeting today; try not to act as hung over as you obviously are. You have 15 minutes."
Dietrich jumped as the door slammed. This was going to be a long day…
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Well, that's the first chapter…
I'm not even going to ask for reviews on this one. If you want to, then by all means, click the little purple box and tell me what you think.
But flames will be used to make chocolate chip muffins.
I hope you all enjoyed it. Or maybe that you just didn't hate it.
DarkLady