Disclaimer: SMeyer's characters, I just play with them.

Author's Note: Okay! This story? 1,700 words, give or take a few? Was originally 17 one hundred word drabbles for twilight100 on LiveJournal. I added a bit of description here and there, took out the dashes seperating them, and bam! J/L fic. And I think I might add another chapter. Which would be, you know, of the smut variety. Look out for it ;)

I blinked my eyes open slowly.


My head was pounding with one killer-freakin'-headache, which meant all I wanted to do was go raid Mom's bathroom for some Advil.

But… I couldn't do that.

Why the hell couldn't I do that?

I groaned, rolled over in bed, pressed my fingers to my temple. Stupid goddamn fucking hangover. There was definitely a reason…

Twisting underneath the blankets (at least I was in my bed...), I rubbed my forehead with a scowl.

"Ow, Christ, Leah, can you not stab me with your elbow?"


Maybe because this was not my bed.

The realization that I was, y'know, tired and hung-over and not in my bed, well, I'm guessing anyone normal would be freaked out, right? Yeah, I know. I mean, it could have been a freakin' ax-murderer or a serial killer or a car salesman, I didn't know.

"Do you have to look like you just woke up with fucking Satan or something? Either that or you really want another beer, sometimes it's hard to tell those looks apart…"

Scratch that. I knew.

I propped myself up on my elbow and resisted the urge to punch Jacob Black in the face.

It was really, really hard not to. Punch him in the face, I mean.

For one thing, he was propped up on his elbow too, but he was so ridiculously tall anyway that he just peered down at me, with such a stupid-ass smirk on his face that I wanted to punch off. With my fist.

Well, duh. As opposed to what, my foot?

"Just… shut up. Shut up and get out."

"Why should I? It's my room." That stupid fucking smirk.

"Black. Do. Not. Start. With. Me."

"Are we back to surnames? Damn, that's a turnaround from last night."

Last night.

Oh, shit. What the fuck happened last night?

I think I was pushing my poor, alcohol-addled brain into overdrive trying to grasp some strands of memory, but Oh my God I had kind of just connected the fact that drinking plus hangover plus bed plus Jacob Black would lead people to the obvious conclusion…

Vodka shots… contest, Jacob, me, shots…


Me, drunk, kiss, lips, him, bed…

Oh, fuck.

Heat, hot, more bed, vodka on my shirt, shit I liked that shirt…

I could remember vodka on my shirt, but not if I actually slept with Jacob Black?

"Remember yet?"

Still with that stupid smirk on his face. I scowled at Jacob, who just smiled back at me. Why was he so fucking happy? He should be the least happy person on the earth right now. I'm surprised he hasn't run screaming into the night by now.

Except… oh crap, it was morning. Slants of light came through the blinds on his window, spreading over the floor, Jacob's arm, the sheets covering me…

Wait. Why are they covering me?

Oh, of course.

I clutched the sheets tighter over my naked body, closed my eyes, and counted to ten.

"Are you done completely overreacting?"

Eight… nine… ten.

I took a deep breath, sighed enough to make my lungs ache, and looked up at Jacob again.

He wasn't smirking anymore; this was an improvement. He did, however, have an eyebrow raised and therefore resembled the universal picture of, "What's the hell's wrong with you?"

Oh, well, I don't know. I kind of just woke up from a night of apparently really good sex with my Alpha, naked, and I can't remember a damn thing.

"Shit," I muttered, averting my eyes. 'Cause this isn't totally awkward. "I can't even freaking remember."

"Are you saying you want to remember?"

Crap. "No!" I clarified immediately. I love this habit of words vomiting from my mouth. "It's just, if I fuck somebody, I'd really love to know how it was!"


"It's a preference, okay?!"

"So you've slept with many random guys before?"

This was going nowhere.

"No! That was the first time I got laid in like, two years, and why can you remember if I can't?!"

Dammit, he just looked amused. So I quickly added, "You were a virgin! That's completely unfair!"

Yeah, I played the virgin card. I know, I'm badass.

Jacob seemed shocked for a second— which was definitely good. But before I could celebrate my victory, he rolled his eyes. What the fuck?

"If I recall correctly, you weren't exactly complaining of my virgin status last night, Leah."

Was it wrong to expect a chorus of oh, burn! comments to magically blare from his ceiling?

To my horror, I felt my cheeks flush. Shit, what the hell did we do?

And, more importantly… how loud was I?

Since we apparently have some super Alpha-Beta connection, Jacob just smirked again at my face. "Very loud, just so you know."


"Um…" was my eloquent answer. I know, I'm very articulate in times of crisis.

And yes, drunk Alpha-Beta sex is definitely a crisis.

"So, uh, Billy…" I said vaguely, waving my hand in the direction the door.

"Your house, with your mom and Charlie."

Oh, thank God. It'd be much worse if his dad got a late-night porn soundtrack.

Shifting just a little in our uncomfortably shared bed, my knee bumped against his, and holy fuck my legs were sore. I think it made me wince a little, because Jacob immediately forced me still with his hands on my waist.

Oh, hello there incredibly awkward and unavoidable sexual attraction, how are you today?

Thankfully, I was still wrapped in the sheets. Which means that it was pretty much impossible for him to notice the heat that broke out on my body as soon as he touched me, which would just up the awkwardness around here about twenty points.

But then… we did have sex. So I'm guessing that he's seen it all before.

Just perfect.

My hangover-headache seemed to be easing up. I didn't know why. Nor did I care at the moment. His hands were still on my waist.

And it didn't seem like he was going to let go any time soon.

He was just staring at me. And, well, people staring at me triggers an immediate, "Quit looking at me before I punch you!" response. So I kind of averted my eyes and squirmed a little, wondering when it would be okay to officially declare this a One-Night-Stand.

I shook my head, fidgeted a little more. Ow, legs still sore. And I felt all… limp. And damp. And tired.

And too much so to care how my next sentence sounded.

"Hey, Jake?"


"…So, how was it?"

Like somebody injected him with a needle full of pure caffeine, Jacob shot up. The muscles on his arms strained as he balanced on them, just… looking at me. Again. Except this time his mouth was wide open and likely to catch flies.

"…The hell, Leah?"

"What?! I can't remember, I have to live vicariously through you!"

"That doesn't even make sense in context."

"When have I ever made sense?"

"Point taken."

He was silent about a second to long for my tastes. I rolled onto my side and raised my eyebrows.

"So." I smirked. "Was it good for you?"

Jacob groaned.

"You sound like a really stupid romance novel."

"Because I'm sure you'd know exactly what those sound like." I rolled my eyes, falling gently onto my back again. "Avoiding the question much?"

He blinked. "Wait, were you seriously so shit-faced that you don't remember? Like, at all?"

"Would we be having this incredibly awkward conversation if I wasn't?"

To my intense amusement, he blushed, and ran a hand through his messy (after-sex) hair.

"…So, um," he said after a second. "Do you really, er, want to know?"

"Have I ever asked something I didn't want an answer to?"

"True," Jacob muttered, hand in his hair again while I waited not so patiently. God, he was so annoying. I was going to have to do this myself.

"We actually fucked, right?" I clarified. "Because I'm guessing we did, considering the soreness. Damn, by the way. Never been that sore before."

He looked slightly horror-struck. Oh, get over it, you wimp. I continued on blithely, "I remember getting in bed, and that's about it. So, did I give you a blow-job, or what?"


"What?! I just want to know!"

"I'm getting there, okay?!"

I scowled. Whatever. "Well, did I?"

"No," he said through clenched teeth. Somebody's needlessly pissed. "No, you did not."

"Oh. Okay."

Another pause.

"Well, that's it?" I asked. Okay, screw it, I was really curious now. I sat up slowly, letting the sheet slip halfway down my chest. Jacob's eyes immediately shifted… everywhere else. Ugh.

"Uh, no, not exactly."

"Really?" Finally, information! I should totally be Nancy Drew. "What else?"

He bit his lip, still not looking right at me. Christ, it's a breast, deal. "Um, well…" His hand swept down to my lower body. Okay? "Y'know, me… my mouth… uh."

"Oh! You tongue-fucked me?"


Jacob winced like I'd slapped him. What's his issue?

"Can you not say it like that?"

"Like what? It's true," I pointed out, then sighed. "Figures."

"Figures what?" he asked, his arm coming to rest on top of mine. Um. That probably shouldn't feel so good.

"Figures that I don't remember." Damn. My luck keeps getting better and better.

Meanwhile, Jacob had gone back to his previous look: the one that called me a freak. The hell?

"I reiterate. You want to remember?"

And suddenly, with that one sentence, the easy confidence he'd had when I first woke up returned.

You know what? Fuck this.

"Yes, I do! In fact, I'm pretty sure any girl that gets screwed wants to remember it! Jesus!"

Ouch; my head throbbed again.

Jacob was just looking at me, smiling like an idiot. I glared, opened my mouth to say something


Woah, hello.

Déjà vu much? His lips on mine, down my shoulder, my chest, hot on my stomach—

"The hell?" I gasped, wrenching my mouth away, my breath coming in rather embarrassing short gasps.

"Thought you wanted to remember?" he mumbled, lifting my arms so he could tug the sheet down my body, exposing my breasts completely.


My resistance didn't last very long. Oh, shut up! Well, if I couldn't remember, I might as well make some new memories, right?