A / N : So . . . Futurama has been cancelled again. It's not a total shock, because this show is always getting cancelled, but it still sucks. Here : a spoonful of Fry / Leela fic to help ease the pain.

Thanks to cartoonlover27 and mel again!


They're drunk, and Fry's hands have started to wander.

He'd get the message quick enough if she moved them, but Leela isn't sure she wants to. It's been a long dry spell and she can feel herself arching into his touch. They're outside her apartment and she can feel the door frame pressing into her back, against the thin fabric of her dress. How did they get here? She tries to remember through the warm drunk haze clouding her mind. Oh, of course. It's Friday, and Fry is supposed to be kissing her goodnight on her doorstep – except that this Friday's dessert was heavy on the alcohol and it seems to have sparked off something in him. In both of them, actually. The kiss doesn't seem to be ending and there's an edge to it that Leela hasn't felt before, but she likes.

She lets them in without breaking the kiss, dropping her bag and kicking off her shoes as they stumble backward.

"Do you want coffee, or someth-" she starts, but Fry shakes his head.

"Uh-uh," he says firmly.

Leela lets him kiss her again, making her head spin.

She should have known this would happen. They've been dancing around the sex thing for weeks. It's a terrible idea because it's only going to make their not-quite relationship more confusing if they add sex to the mix – she's not stupid, she knows that – but it's getting harder and harder to leave Fry on her doorstep. She just doesn't want to. Still, this is the first time he's been less than a gentleman about it, and Lord, he's single-minded when he wants to be. If he'd stood on her doorstep before wearing the look he's giving her right now, she would have dragged him into bed weeks ago.

Bad idea! Bad idea! Her sensible side screams at her.

She pulls away with supreme effort.

"This . . . we should take it slow," she tells Fry.

He blinks.

"Oh. Right. No, you're right," he nods. "Taking it slow. We're doing that. That's definitely a thing we're doing."

"And we're drunk," Leela points out.

"Oh, yeah," Fry agrees. "Drunkety-drunk-drunk."

"It's a bad idea."

"Bad."

"We'd regret it in the morning."

"Right."

"Well," Leela finishes. "It's good we agree."

"Definitely."

They stare at each other.

There is a pause of maybe three seconds and then they start to rip each other's clothes off.


Leela wakes up the next morning with a monster hangover and a bucketful of regret. She's angry with herself and angry with Fry, but he doesn't seem to understand why. He pulls his head out from under the pillow and yawns unconcernedly.

"So we were drunk. I don't see what the problem is."

"It was our first time, Fry," Leela snaps. "I wanted it to be special. Didn't you?"

Fry stares at her like she's from another planet.

"Well, sure . . ." he says slowly. "But -"

"But what?"

Fry touches her cheek, trailing his fingers down her neck and across her shoulders, raising goosebumps on her skin.

"I thought it was," he murmurs.

He kisses her, and the force of her feelings for him takes Leela's breath away.