A/N: Hey guys. I'm back, I guess? Just for a little while I suppose. XD

Here's a quick little short story that I made. It isn't done yet, but it should be over the next few days.

It's not beta-read either, so excuse the grammatical errors.

Disclaimer: We all know what goes here...

Drunken Stupor

Part One: What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

Fang stared intently at Vanille, a look of sheer determination mixed with a little bit of insanity against the younger girl's equally as determined facade. Inside Vanille's head, however, she was deeply, and utterly scared.

The two Pulsian women sat opposite each other. A small, wooden table separated the two. Small shot glasses were lined neatly on top of the table. Each glass was filled close to the brim with a strange, murky orange liquid.

Fang's lip curved into a sneer, a vain attempt to intimidate Vanille. She remained steadfast, but a small bead of sweat ran down her head. The two locked eyes, the suspense of the moment growing much more dramatic than it needed to be.

Many hours before this standoff between Fang and Vanille, the two had grown tired of their fellow companions. Hope was, well, hopeless. He was always the first one to give up and beg for a rest after a five hour hike through the treacherous landscape of Gran Pulse. Snow was always the second one to go. With him being so tall, one would think that his long legs would be able to endure his weight much longer than anyone else. But no, he too would eventually give up and join Hope. Thankfully Lightning wasn't much of a complainer, only giving out the order to take a break once night fell or after a particularly viscous fight with a monster. Sazh was just as bad as Hope and Snow though. Always complaining that he was to old to do something!

The men, in the group were completely useless!

Trudging through Gran Pulse took a lot out of energy out of everyone, except Fang and Vanille. Fed up with the constant complaints, and completely bored during resting periods where the others were too tired to go on, the two decided that they needed something entertaining to do.

Fang and Vanille were trapped in an intense battle of wits. They issued challenges upon each other, anything to pass the time while the others rested.

The challenges were easy to begin with. The first was a race. Fang was the victor, naturally. She was stronger and faster than Vanille, a natural born hunter. Knowing that Fang would best her in any physical contest, Vanille took things up a notch.

Fang was already leading with three points against Vanille's one. The point she earned was by winning the "Who could put the most flowers in Lightning's hair before she wakes up, and not get beaten to a pulp" challenge. It was funny really, since Fang might have had a chance to win if she hadn't decided to use the flowers with thorns on them.

The two had only narrowly escaped Lightning's barrage of gun fire. Fang and Vanille ran away from an angry and confused Lightning, the two pranksters laughing as her death threats were ignored. Lightning certainly wouldn't enact revenge of them, right?

To Vanille's dismay, Fang earned her points without any repercussions. She won the race, leaving Vanille tired and out of breath. Fang beat her in the arm wrestling competition, being able to beat even Snow. Her last point was earned when she hunted down all the cactuars to be used in the challenge they were currently doing.

Fang and Vanille lifted a shot glass up, raising it to eye level.

"What is this...this gunk?" Vanille asked. She shook the glass slightly, causing tiny ripples and waves in the orange drink.

"I told you before, right? It's cactuar juice." Fang replied, dipping a finger in the liquid.

Vanille immediately set the drink down on the table. She used a bit too much strength than she had intended, causing the whole table and the drinks on top to sway back and forth. Some of the orange liquid escaped the shot glass, landing on the gray, concrete floor below. The drop splashed onto the floor, sizzled, and then died.

Fang had spent the last few hours hunting cactuar. Their juice, infamous for their hallucination inducing qualities, a perfect candidate for the next challenge. It was a drinking contest, but the true test was to see who had the guts to actually drink the foul stuff.

"Cheers." Fang bumped her shot glass against Vanille's, and brought the rim of the glass to her lip.

Vanille followed Fang's actions, but her eyes were still glued to Fang's lips.

"Well, bottoms up."

With a sigh and a nervous gulp, the two women downed the drink. To win the challenge, they had to see who could drink the most. To Vanille, she was hoping she could drink one, and live.

The cactuar juice was terrible. A horrid mix of what tasted like cold medicine, hot sauce, and...cotton candy? Swallowing the last drop down, Vanille clutched her stomach, waiting for the effects to begin. Fang was having a harder time. She couldn't keep the drink down, her body rejecting the foul liquid the second it touched her tongue. She clenched her mouth shut, intent on winning. She couldn't lose to Vanille! Especially at drinking, her forte! Fang swallowed the juice for the second time, clutching her stomach before the effects took place.

Pupils dilated. Heartbeat quickened. Hands trembled. Legs shook. Sweat poured down their bodies.

Fang and Vanille locked eyes once again, breathing in ragged gasps.

This is fine! I can totally handle this...

Fang lied to herself, but kept the sneer plastered on her face to scare Vanille. The pig-tailed girl wasn't known to hold her liquor, despite not partaking in the act of drinking as much as the others did. Fang knew that was Vanille's disadvantage, and silently hoped that the cactuar juice was having a similar affect on her than it was on herself.

"Ha! This isn't so—"

Fang collapsed onto the ground, knocking the table laden with shot glasses filled with cactuar juice to the ground. She was out cold, the effects of the cactuar juice taking action mid-sentence. Vanille stifled a laugh, the cactuar juice beginning to affect her too.

"What was that, Fang? I guess you can't hold your liquor after—"

Like Fang before her, Vanille fell to the ground with a thud. The two girls were splayed out on the cold, hard, concrete floor. Broken shot glasses surrounded them, while a large puddle of bright, sickly orange liquid spread throughout the room.

What could possibly go wrong?