As you can tell, this is based on the TV series. Set somewhere in the middle of Series One. It's short, and it might well stay a one-shot unless I get some reviews.


"Shugs, come on." I was holding her arm, dragging her up across the shingle.

"Smmh ffugga Kizzzah innit." She was so drunk she could barely talk. But then again, this is Sugar we're talking about. And she's drunk most of the time so this is nothing new.

I walked past the bouncer at Lost Vegas and made my way to the toilets, Sugar still in tow. The floor was wet as usual, and I kicked at a cubicle door to open it, both of my arms now supporting Sugar. Not that I minded. There's something about that body pressed up against mine...

It seems I was just in time. Sugar reeled backwards from me and turned, just in time to retch in to the stinking toilet bowl. Thank god the toilet lid had been up.

I crouched down next to her and held her hair back. It was so soft. While her body heaved with the effort of disposing of a litre of vodka, I looked around the cubicle. Without realising I'd dragged us both in to that magic cubicle. The one where Sugar had taken a marker and drawn around our feet on to the plastic coated partition. I smiled at the memory. It had felt so good to hold her so close.

"Jesus Christ, Kizza." Apparently the vomiting had sobered her up enough to form actual words. She spat in to the toilet and groped for her bag. "Aw shit, man. Where's my bag?" I handed it to her, always the dutiful, mindful, admiring servant. She pulled a half bottle of vodka from her handbag, unscrewed the top, and took a deep swig, gasping after she swallowed. "That stuff was shit. I swear to God that it had somethin' else in. It was shit."

The previous vodka had been pretty shit, really.

"Come on, Shugs. Let's go get a drink." I offered her my hand and she pulled herself up. I relished the touch, the feel of her skin.


"Kim? KIM!" Stella was shouting and all I wanted to do was sleep. I had a terrible headache and my toothbrush had run out of batteries. How much worse could it get? "Kim! Come on, I have to get this washing away before Dale comes over. He's doing the kitchen today." Of course: Dale. Stella was still with him, I was sure about it. She hadn't denied it, not once. Not that she could really, seeing as they'd been shagging on the kitchen table just a few weeks ago. It's disgusting.