Oh, she's gonna shimmy 'til her garters break

And all that jazz

Show her where to park her girdle

Oh, her mama's blood will curdle

If she hears her baby's queer

For all that jazz

-"Overture/And All That Jazz", Chicago

Max was right where Terry expected her to be on New Years Eve: holed up in her room with the blinds drawn and the door locked. Her mother almost always had to work on New Years Eve and her older sister would be out partying, meaning that she would be unseen for another week. Dana held a party at her place each year but Max never went because she knew New Years' Eve was the drunkest, loudest, messiest party of the year. Therefore, Terry took it upon himself to bring a little holiday cheer to the girl himself.

Max frowned as she heard a tapping sound somewhere other than her bedroom door. She muted the television and tilted her head slightly, listening in.

"What? Do you want me to tap 'let me in' in Morse code?" Terry's sarcastic voice was muffled through her bedroom window facing the fire escape. The pink-haired teen heaved a sigh, crawling off her bed to unlock it for him. She watched with mild annoyance as he climbed through, grinning as soon as his boots hit the carpet.

"Happy New Year, Max."

"It's only eleven o'clock, McGinnis." She replied in a flat voice, crossing her arms underneath her chest. "And what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out getting wasted with the rest of our high school?"

"Nope. I thought I'd do that here." He took off his backpack and removed a bottle of Vodka, a smaller bottle of tequila, a saltshaker, and a plastic bag full of sliced limes. Max merely stared at him.

"You know damn well I don't drink, Terry."

He rolled his eyes. "Max, you have a whole list of things you don't do. It's a new year and so help me God you're going to do at least one thing on that gigantic list you've never done before."

"You're not gonna leave me alone until I do this, huh?"

"Nope."

"You know I hate you, right?"

"Yep."

Max shook her head and crawled on the mattress, sitting with her long legs crossed. Terry unscrewed the tequila and poured it in two shot glasses. She eyed the liquid with growing distaste, knowing just how potent the stuff was.

"I'm only doing one shot, okay? And then you leave me alone for the rest of the night."

Terry nodded. "Just one. Alright, on three we take the shot, do a line of salt, and then the lime. Ready?"

"No."

"Three!"

Max knew good and well that taking the shot was a bad idea, but Terry's infectious cheerfulness rubbed off on her so she did just like she had seen in movies: tossed back the shot, licked the salt off the side of her thumb, and squeezed a mouthful of lime juice in her mouth. By the time she set the lime down, her throat was raw from the taste of the tequila, salt, and lime but surprisingly, it hadn't felt too bad. There was no instant room-spinning drunkenness or vomiting. All in all, she felt a little relaxed.

"See? Not so bad, right?" Terry offered. Max eyed him for a moment and then glanced down at the full bottle of alcohol. Well, she didn't want to be wasteful.

"I guess not. Maybe just one more."

Terry's icy blue eyes widened. "You sure?"

Max shrugged. "Why not? It is the new year and all that jazz."

"As long as you tell me when you've had enough."

She raised her hand with four fingers extended. "Scout's honor."

*

"Alright, so tell me something else you never do." Four shots later, Terry's jacket had been thrown on the floor and his notion to go back to Dana's party forgotten. Max had become far too interesting to leave now that she'd loosened up a little. He had a nice little buzz coming along himself.

Max tapped a slender finger on her lips as she thought. "I never leave my laptop on overnight."

Terry groaned, swaying slightly and then flailing for a minute because the movement almost caused him to topple over. "Ugh, that's boring! Try again."

She rolled her eyes, leaning back on her hands. "I can't think of anything. Why don't you tell me something you never do."

"Fine. I never…go commando."

Max burst into giggles, causing him to grin. "See? You're supposed to say something funny like that."

"My fault. Let me try again. I never wear red."

Terry felt his eyebrows lift in surprise. "Really? Why?"

She shrugged. "Red is my sister's color. I just feel slutty when I wear it."

"Wow. I didn't know that." He admitted, pouring another pair of shots for them from the half empty bottle. Max spared him a sly grin.

"I thought you knew everything I didn't do."

He raised the glass to his lips, allowing a smug smirk to form. "I know a lot more than you think I do."

Was it just her or did that sound very sexual? Max wasn't sure why but that tone of voice made shudders crawl up her back. Nah. It must have been an effect of the alcohol. She tossed back the shot as well.

"Alright, fine. Tell me something about me that nobody else knows." Max said in a haughty tone. Terry watched her for a moment with that same slow smile.

"Your favorite snack in the world is that vintage Frankenberry cereal in strawberry Quik."

Max's jaw dropped. "How…when…?"

Terry tapped the side of his temple. "There's an old saying for how I know that. It goes 'I'm the goddamn Batman'."

Max threw a lime slice at him, which he ducked. "Haha, very funny. I know stuff about you too."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like your favorite pair of boxers are those dark green Scooby Doo boxers I bought you last year that you pretended you hated." She felt utter satisfaction as his cheeks flushed pink. It was almost impossible to make Terry McGinnis blush. She was really starting to like tequila.

"Told you." She simpered, pouring another shot. Terry's somewhat fuzzy mind had enough sense to think about what she was doing.

"How many of those have you had now?"

Max shrugged. "I forgot to keep count after five."

"Don't you think five is enough?"

"Relax, Ter. I know when to say no."

*

"We're out of tequila." Max mumbled in a sad tone, nosing the bottle away from where she lay with a bare foot. Terry lifted his head enough to see what she said was true. They both lay next to each other on the bed. Max's head leaned on his left shoulder, trapping his arm beneath it. He didn't mind: he felt high as a cloud lying there anyway. However, he was oddly distracted by the long smooth line of Max's bare leg; unhidden because she was wearing black boxers underneath an enormous white t-shirt.

"Did you hear me? I said we're out of tequila." Max reiterated, turning her head upward to look at him. His gaze shifted quickly from her legs to her face before he let his head drop back on the pillow.

"Oh. Well, there's still some Vodka left if you want that." He replied without much conviction to pour it for her. She shrugged, instead snuggling the side of her face into the warm space between his neck and shoulder.

"Nah, 'm not that thirsty." She let her eyes drop closed and just went still, allowing the oddly pleasant foggy feeling in her body to flourish. Even so, for some reason she wanted to keep talking.

"Terry? Am I supposed to feel really warm?"

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, that's pretty normal when you're drunk."

She pushed up a bit to look him in the face, indignant. "I am not drunk."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Really? I'm pretty smashed so I know you're not far behind me."

"I am not drunk."

"You're not?"

"No."

"Alright, try to sit up on your knees."

"Fine, I will!" Max pushed her arms beneath her and attempted to balance on her knees. She managed to stay that way for about three seconds before toppling over…onto Terry.

Despite his squished diaphragm, Terry couldn't stop laughing. Max was less than amused. "I told you."

She wanted to be madder at him but she simply didn't feel like summoning up the energy. Instead, she heaved a sullen sigh and dropped her head on his chest.

"Alright, so I'm drunk. It's your fault anyway."

He chuckled. "I know. You have to do this at least once in your lifetime."

"That's flawed logic."

Terry shrugged. "Maybe. Can you admit that you at least had a little bit of fun?"

"No."

A handful of seconds went by. "Maybe."

"Glad to hear it."

Max felt the irresistible urge to smile but she didn't want him to see it. Terry was a crafty bastard when he wanted to be. A crafty, comfortable bastard, too, because she noticed just how much she enjoyed being pressed against him like this. They'd never really been this close to each other before. Sure, he slept over every once in a while when he was on her side of town after a long night of patrol but that was about it.

He shifted a bit beneath her and Max could feel the muscles of his chest rippling underneath his shirt. For some reason, it made her feel even warmer than before. Slowly, her mind began to put the pieces together involving the night's events: he'd ditched the biggest party of the year to spend New Year's Eve with her. No one had done that for her before. Come to think of it, Terry had a habit of showing up uninvited but providing company she'd always wanted. She pretended to hate the attention but she really did enjoy it. Besides, if she wasn't mistaken he seemed pretty pleased with their current position as well.

"Terry?"

"Yeah?"

"Want to know something else I never do?"

"Sure."

"I never date guys I'm friends with." Her voice was soft and more than a little meaningful. Terry opened his eyes, tracking them over Max as she lifted up enough to prop her hands on his chest and see his reaction.

"Really?" He answered, his voice hushed. Max nodded, her dark brown eyes full of something he hadn't seen before: longing.

"Well…you've already broken one rule this year. One more couldn't hurt." There, he said it. And it had only taken seven shots of tequila. Fantastic.

She didn't reply but he hadn't expected her to. Instead, Max leaned down and kissed him, flattening her luscious body on top of his. Both of them let out appreciative sounds, wondering why kissing like that felt so damn good. Her fingers buried themselves in his thick hair, sweeping his bangs away from his face. His hands wrapped around her back, stroking the length of her spine. Max let out a whimper, surprised that his touch was far more intoxicating than any alcohol she'd ever tasted. She shifted upward, her hips sliding over his. Terry groaned softly into her mouth, unnerved by how powerfully aroused that one movement made him.

"As much as I hate myself for saying so, we should probably just go to sleep." He murmured once he'd summoned enough self-control to stop kissing her. Max stared at him through half-lidded eyes, still dazed from the kissing.

"Why? Because we're drunk?"

"No." He whispered, settling his large hands on the small of her back. "Because if we do this for real, I sure as hell want to be able to remember it in the morning."

Max nearly shuddered from the implications in that sentence alone; nevermind the smoldering look in those ice blue eyes or the pressure she could feel on the inside of her thighs. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that he had a point.

"You're right."

She started to push off of him but he kept his hands where they were. "One more thing."

"What?"

He kissed her again, sweet and firm. "Happy New Year, Max."

"Happy New Year, Terry."

FIN

----

A/N: Honestly, this drabble came out of nowhere. I'm sort of glad it happened, though, because I always love to write a canon Terry/Max pairing since they're my number one 'ship. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review. It's encouraging.