Drinking & Drugs Do Not Mix

BY : Rachy-Aria-Rach
Category: Celebrities - Misc > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 1316
Disclaimer: I do NOT know any person and/or persons in this story. This is a fictional story about actors, Lucy Hale & Ian Harding, with Keegan Allen & fictional character Dr. Hollingsworth. No money or profit is being made from this story.

A new drug has come aboard the cruise ship. The Pretty Little Liars cast and crew are aboard partying for the last ever episode wrap. The club lights at the nightclub are flashing overhead when Lucy gets her first glass of the pink drink from the good-looking bartender in the plain white t-shirt to whom if she didn't have a boyfriend, she would have given more than a second look. She’s casing the crowd, looking around, trying to see if she can find Ian and Keegs in the pulsating crowd.

 The party just really got started -- it’s ten p.m. and the DJ’s music is thumping the subwoofers so loud that the floor vibrates. It’s impossible to hear a word. Lucy takes a sip of her drink. It’s not what she usually orders, but the bartender recommended it, and Lucy will try anything once.

 It’s good enough for now. There are a group of strangers onboard dancing in one corner of the room. One of the girls is wearing a tiara. She is, apparently, getting married. Lucy raises her glass in a silent salute when one of the party catches her staring. This is, apparently, a cue for the entire wedding party to drink. She joins them, taking a bigger mouthful than she might have otherwise.

Then -- she catches sight of Ian.
 Why did he have to wear that particular suit? She’s got a weakness for it. It’s dark, like most of his suits, but it picks up the color in his eyes and makes them seem like lazers, blue and clear and bright. He sees her looking at him, and Lucy quickly diverts her attention back to her own outfit, checking to make sure everything is still in place. Sure she had a boyfriend, but tonight she might break the rules just for one time.

Lucy felt a little self-conscious in this dress when she first put it on. She remembers that much. There’s just not much material to it -- it dips between her breasts in the front, held together with a thin strap of fabric and two little hoops on either side of her shoulders , and there isn’t much to the back, either. It’s an attention-getting dress, the kind of dress she only wears when it’s time to do precisely that.

 For tonight, she'll do anything because it's the last time she'll see most of these beautiful people for a while. Out of any ship the new drug was aboard THIS ship, it's a very brand new drug, a whisper on the streets, the effects of which are… varied and nasty. It’s marketed to men, to give to women as a date rape drug. It’s an aphrodisiac and an upper. Best case scenario; those lucky enough to encounter a partner suffer molestation and heart damage, or in the worst case scenario: rape, humiliation and death. Those women who managed to escape and come down on their own died of heart failure.

And it’s being marketed and sold on this cruise ship, not officially, of course, but of the three overdose victims in the last week, two were last seen in this nightclub on this cruise ship. Which is doing wonders it's reputation. But nether-the-less Marlene chose this one. 

So here Lucy is, in a sexy dress and even sexier shoes, with loads of hairspray in her hair, hoping to party with some of her friends she's enjoyed being with the most. But is the perfect bait for a drug dealer with the eye for the young and the beautiful.

Keegan's moving through the crowd, of course, looking at her, as always, and Ian's eyes are on her as well, a tangible weight on the small of her back when she turns to the bar. Ian wasn't very happy not since he first saw her. Not when she showed up in this dress. Not when she’d teased her hair and painted her eyes and lips. Of course he's had a crush on her since he's gotten to know her and yes he loves that particular dress on her, but the rumors and stories on the news about the new drug got him all worried.

The thing of it is that she fits the victim profile perfectly. A little too perfectly. Young but not too young and very attractive weather she bothers with that sort of thing or not, and she’s young enough that she can sell a little bit of naivete in her voice, in her manner.

But Ian hadn’t said anything. Because he can't keep his eyes off of her and saying anything would be too much like admitting the tension that was all-too-palpable between the two of them actually existed. It would be too much like emoting. The fact he has a girlfriend didn't matter it was that he didn't want anything to happen to one of his best friends. So he’d nodded to her and proceeded to go a little bit crazy. She was staring at him too now she was sure she wouldn’t be able to pee without his eyes going off of her.

 She takes another swallow of her drink. It’s no cabarnet sauvignon, but it’s fruity and slides down her throat smooth as glass. She almost can’t taste the alcohol in it. It’s the kind of drink that’s dangerous that way. It starts her thinking things that she probably shouldn’t.

Like about how Ian's hands are not where they should be. Sliding up her thighs, his breath hot on her neck, the music pulsing through them and around them -- that’s where they should be. But he’s standing across the club, looking at her.

He's told her what he thinks of her dress and some of it is that he doesn’t want her hurt. But she thinks maybe part of it is the way this dress looks on her, and the bright red lipstick she’s got a fondness for making her skin look luminous under the forgiving lights.

Lucy takes another sip of her drink. And it is going down smooth. Ah, she thinks, there’s the alcohol. It’s starting to do its job, settle in her stomach and warm her veins.

She starts to feel loose. A little free. Like her careful up-do is a little too much, a little too fussy. It’s hard to take a deep breath but she feels… something. She wants to dance. Even though she never really does this, there's something magical about the beat of the music in this place, the lights that entice even reluctant clubgoers to join the revelry.

She wants to dance. With Ian would be best, of course, with his flint-eyes and his perfect chest and all of that beautiful soul hidden just under the surface. She’d like to make it go crazy and look into his eyes… his perfect, flint… oh, she had this thought already.

The drinks at this nightclub are truly superb, she thinks. There’s only a little bit left in her glass… She just barely catches herself before she licks the last of the delicious pink liquid out of the glass. She’s drunkenly gesturing for another one when she hears Keegan's voice in her ear.

"Luc, are you sure you want to do that?”
She turns and catches sight of him in front of her. Keegs is a very good looking man. Who is in love with Lana Del Ray's sister, she reminds herself sternly. But still. Those big, strong hands on her body? She would bet money he’s a good dancer.

Dancing! She wants to dance!

She whirls and looks Keegs in the eye and uses her best professional voice. “I am very certain that I would like to dance.”
Keegan reaches for her glass and takes a sniff of it. “What have you been drinking Goose??!! This isn't like you.”

“What? Can’t a girl just be in the mood to --” Lucy throws her arms in the air dramatically -- “dance? Mmm.”

“Look at me. Straight at me.”

She wants to, she really wants to. But she also wants to dance. Hm. Follow orders like a good girl? Or listen to the needs of her body?

She never gives in to those darker voices in her head. She never relents for a minute. Always does the right thing. The moral thing. Stays loyal to her friends.
She’s a good girl, and Lord, is that tiring from time to time.

She takes her drink and knocks it back, pushing herself away from the bar. She looks fan-fucking-tastic in this dress. And since she doesn’t seem to want to stand anymore,

 Dancing.

She finds a place in the throng of bodies. Someone’s hand finds her thigh, helps her hips move in the right rhythm. But she didn't care. It smells like sweat and alcohol and sex on the club floor. Expensive sex. It smells good to her in a way it’s never really smelled good before.

“Goose.”

It’s not Keegan's voice in her ear this time. It’s Ian's and he’s pushing away the very nice man who’d been dancing with her before, with a firm hand and those blue eyes of his. “Hi, Ian. You have very gorgeous eyes,” she says. “You should not have so much of those gorgeous looks. Come dance with me. Isn’t this a great song?”

“Goose.” Ian pulls her close, dips his head close to her ear. She can’t stop her hips. They’re dancing with her back to his front, and her hips sway against his still body and the friction of the expensive fabric of his suit against her bare thighs makes her shiver with delight. “Oh no please don't be that new drug” Ian thought. “Luc, do you remember that new drug that there were rumors about? I think you might have it in you! Remember, Phase one is euphoria.”
A cold chill slides down the back of her spine. She shakes it off. “I’m not drugged. Can’t I just feel happy for a … for a minute?”

“Phase two is arousal,” Ian continues, mercilessly, his hand on the edge of her hip and that’s all she can think about.
“Phase three is increased heart rate.”

“And Provided I’ve been given enough of the drug, in phase four, my heart goes boom yeah yeah I've heard the rumors but I'm not drugged,” Lucy says, but she can’t bring herself to be too upset about it because she’s been drugged, all right? 

And Ian hotass Harding has his hand on her hips and maybe, just maybe, he’ll dance with her. Just once before she dies. A slow, grinding song.

“Come on, Lucy. I need you to focus.” His hands whip up, lightning fast, grab her face, force her to look at him.

“Your hand is on my hip. Or it was. That was easy to focus on.”

She hears Ian draw in a sharp breath. It’s subtle; if she hadn’t been hyper aware of his every micro movement she might have missed it but now she knows, unequivocally, that she has -- is having -- an effect on Ian. His other hand grabs her other hip, a little more roughly than sober Lucy would probably like. It sends a thrill right through her.

“Focus on me, Luc. Answer my questions.”

“Mm.” A fraction of an inch and his hand would be in a delicious spot, a little-known erogenous zone she has just on the inside of her thigh. She wonders, if she begs, if he’ll press his thumbs there when he slips inside of her. “I can focus on you.”

“Did you see who made your drink?”

“Some bartender. But I can’t think of his name. You have really, really big hands. I mean, not abnormally big. Just big. I haven’t ever really thought about it, but there it is, because now your hands are on my body and it’s just hard to miss."

Ian pulled out his phone with one hand and called Keegan, “Keegan. Lucy's been drugged by some bartender, I need to find a way to get her out of here before the paps notice.” There’s something in Ian's voice. If she weren’t so focused on how he’s pressing her close, how his hand just can’t be still, it seems, how it slides the bottom hem of her dress up… and then lets it slide back down in some horrible game he’s playing with her libido, she might have noticed the sharpness in it.

“Clearing a path. You’ve got to get her out of here. I’ll put in a call to the police to see what we can do, but you know what the news have been saying.”

It makes Ian go stiff -- not in the fun way. In the way that it means that he’s closing down the walls on his eyes. Lucy whirls and looks up at him.

Arousal -- which had been, up until this point, sort of fun, hits her too hard and nearly knocks her to her knees. There’s something in his eyes. There’s something in the set of his mouth and how he’s looking at her right now. She could almost cry because his hands aren’t on her anymore.

“Ian, please,” she finds herself saying. She’s not sure what she needs or what she’s even asking for but it’s starting to feel like there are needles in every pore of her skin, like she just might die.

“Lucy.” Ian's voice is deep and dark and serious. She wonders if this is the voice he uses in quiet moments, if this is the voice he uses to talk to Sophia between his sheets. “I need you to trust me, one hundred percent, okay?”

“Of course. You know you don’t even have to ask.”

“Good.” Ian takes her hand, draws her away from the crowd. Sophia wasn't going to be home till Monday. “I need you to come home with me.”

She agrees before she can even really process what her agreement means. And frankly she didn't care as long as it was with Ian.

***

They get into a limo to go to Ian's place. 

She tries to sit on the opposite side of the car from Ian. She’s starting to come out of the haze; she’s starting to realize she doesn’t normally act this way, that she’s crossing some lines she shouldn’t have crossed.

It doesn’t mean that there’s not a fire in her blood or an ache down deep in her bones that makes her want to howl at the moon. It’s humiliating but it’s all she can do to keep from touching herself as he buckles himself in securely and raises the privacy glass between himself and the driver.

“Goose,” Ian says gently, “we’re going to have to try and control your panic and control your heart rate. We’re going to have to give you some… relief. Is there someone you want me to call? Someone who can help with this particular…? I mean… Anthony?”

Lucy nearly sobs. “No, he's in Canada. So no, Ian. There’s no one, okay? There’s no one. Just drop me off at my apartment. I can come down on my own, I swear….”

“No. You really can’t.” Ian never looks away from her. It’s as honest as they’ve ever been with each other. “Someone’s got to monitor you… and…. all the research I've done suggests a partner helps so. It’s going to have to be either me or Keegs, then.”

Lucy does cry. Laying her head on the window. Her hands, she clenches in her lap, pressing down on her pubic bone, hoping the pain will somehow distract her 

“ I remember the news said this drug was likely developed for human traffickers, right? Make the girls oblivious, then make them desperate so they’ll do anything to make it stop…. oh God, Ian, it hurts…”

Ian's seatbelt must not have been on properly because he’s suddenly right there, forcing her hands apart, lacing her fingers through his. “Goose. I can make it stop. I can make it… less. I just need to know if you’re okay with this. At the very least, I need to know you’re not going to hate me for this.”

“This isn’t how I imagined this,” Lucy says, wiping her eyes. “This isn’t fair.”

“Lucy.” 

“I thought, if we ever did, you know--” Lucy shifts, grips his hands harder, clenches her teeth, “If we ever decided to, it would be… maybe it would be spontaneous but fun, you know? Like maybe -- oh god -- on a set trailer or something (and not on a screen), or maybe you’d see me in one of those gorgeous dresses I'm always buying for myself and not be able to stop yourself, or maybe…. but it always started with you wanting me.”

There’s something warm on the back of her hand. She looks down to see Ian's lips pressed there.

“Goose, you’ve got to know I want to do this. And this is -- this is not how I would want to do this either. But please let me help you. Please. I don’t think I could take it. I really don’t think I could take it something happened to you because we both let pride get in the way.”

“I --”

“When this is all over,” Ian says grimly, “I swear to Christ. I will take you on a real date and do this the right way. If you want. And there will be moonlight and flowers and country music and everything you deserve, but Lucy, if you don’t let me help you…”

Lucy nods her head helplessly. 

Ian's phone goes off. And turns the call to speaker.

“Ian.” Keegan's voice comes in over the speaker. “The police are here and they've retrieved the bartender.”

“Good. Find out what happens,” Ian snaps. “Lucy and I will be… dealing with this.”

Keegan smiles secretly, “Good luck,” he says simply.

**

By the time they get to Ian's house, Lucy is a mess. Ian's got her firmly in his hands, and pulls her close to his body as he rushes her inside and, waving a quick hello to his two labradoodles.

The door slams behind them. And they fall on each other. Lucy can think nothing. Not in words. She’s reduced to pictures, sounds… feelings.

She remembers, later, that her dress came off in one piece. That he whispered to leave her shoes on. That he pulled her panties to the side and devoured her while she had her back against the door. That she came and it was like being pulled inside out, and it hurt rather than felt good, but it soaked her panties and eased the edge for a few moments.

She remembers taking off his suit, ripping the material on one of the arms. She remembers that his mouth went to her breast and sucked hard enough she saw stars and it was just crazy and she liked it. 

She remembers pushing him on the bed.

She remembers in perfect, vivid Technicolor taking him into her mouth and sucking him deep, the long, deep moan her actions drew from his gut, how he cursed at her in both English and German. How he begged.

How her sex ached and pulsed and felt so empty but she wanted him hard and ready so she played with her clit while she stroked him and Ian told her that he wanted a picture of her doing that, that it was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

She remembers… oh. The feel of him sliding home. How they’d both just -- stopped and looked at each other with this “oh, there are you” sort of feeling and how it had all felt right for just a split second.

She remembers…. That he came inside of her. That she arched back and begged him for more and he fucked her until he was soft and then he made her come again and again and again….

At the end of the night, when they can finally stop because Lucy doesn’t feel like she might die anymore and her heart rate is slowly dropping, Ian helps her into the bathroom and they hold each other up while they shower.

They fall back into his bed, naked, and instantly slip into sleep.

***

“Miss Hale?”

She’s naked. And in Ian's bed. And every part of her is sore, even.. inside of her and… something happened last night.
It’s confusing. Who is saying her name?

“Miss Hale. I’m going to take some blood now, make sure that the drug is out of your system.”

“Who are you?”
Lucy blinks, and realizes she’s covered in a sheet. That Ian is too, that he’s wrapped around her and feigning sleep. She tucks her head in under Ian's chin, feels him tighten his grip on her.

“I’m sorry. I'm Dr. Hollingsworth, I'm a friend of Keegan's, I wouldn’t come in here, I promise, except that Keegan told me what happened and I want to know if you're feeling any better I swear I won't tell anyone what I've just seen, I promise you.”

Lucy sticks her arm out. “Just do what you need to do, Dr. Hollingsworth.”

“Okay. Do you need anything else?” The doctor looks at her, and she can tell, he’s trying to ask her something significant. He’s trying to...

“No. I’m fine. It was… as consensual as it could be, under the circumstances.”

“What about… other consequences?”

Ian's arms twitch around her. Lucy sighs. “Can we just -- not? I’m fine, Dr. Hollingsworth, I promise. I’m on appropriate… measures.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your hair.” The doctor is nearly out of the door before he turns to her again. “Hey, Miss Hale?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really, really sorry that this happened to you, but you're very lucky you had someone when you did because most of these cases they've all died from heart failure. I hope you have a good year.”

Lucy swallows and nods. As the doctor left.

Ian doesn’t let her go while she cries and then fades back to sleep.

***

Ian lets her borrow one of his long-sleeved tees, and fetches gym shorts from Sophia's closet. He sits on the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, watching her dress. She slips the shorts over herself and turns to face Ian.

“So. Uh. I guess the only appropriate thing to say in this situation is… thank you. I know that, um, without you, it probably wouldn’t have been good so. Thank you.”

Ian waves off her apology. “How… I mean, this is going to sound stupid, but…” Ian drops his hands in his lap. “How are you?”

“I’m…. mad,” Lucy says, surprised to find that it’s true. “I mean -- I… I don’t regret sleeping with you. Like at all. Zero complaints. In fact, gold star. Just for your tongue (as always). Your fingers -- well. Anyway.”

A smirk crosses Ian's face.

“But I’m pissed that I was forced to. And I’m pissed that I didn’t notice that it was in my drink. And I’m pissed that this bastard basically got away with it and…I really, really want to punch whoever it was that spiked my drink in the throat.” 

Lucy draws in a shaky breath. “And I’m so glad that you were with me, and you had my back. I can’t stop thinking about what those girls -- now that I know what it feels like, what that felt like, I can’t think about what those girls who didn’t have you or Keegs looking out for them, what they must have went through.”

“While we were…” Ian clears his throat. “Last night, while we were engaged with each other, the police questioned the bartender. He admits to being the one who spiked your drink.”

Lucy sits, on the edge of the bed, suddenly, feels something rush to her head.

“He doesn’t, however, want to lead them to his source. He says he’s in fear for his life.” There’s disdain in Ian's voice as plain as day. “The police think a visit to jail for a few months might… set him straight.”

Lucy swallows. “I’m sorry, Ian. If I had noticed, then… you could have been having fun at the party and…”

“Hey. No.” Ian stands up, lays a hand on her arm, cautiously, like they didn’t just exhaust themselves last night between the sheets. “Not your fault, okay? Completely and totally not your fault.” 

“Okay.” Lucy closes her eyes, enjoys the sensation of him touching her without the drug running through her system. Without the sharpness, where everything was just a little too pointed. She sighs, and lays her head on his shoulder.

“The police will get this guy, Goose. They're going to bring his world crashing down around his ears.” His arms slowly fold around her, and she thinks that maybe she shouldn’t take so much comfort from that promise, but… she does. But there was one thought she couldn't get out of her mind.

“What are we going to tell Anthony and Sophia?”

Ian just held her close “We'll just have to sort that out when the time comes.”

 ***

The police get the information off the bartender, the information they need to track down the manufacturer of the drug. And that ends spectacularly, with the bartender ending up going to jail anyway for dealing and murder.

Lucy and Ian find out and are ecstatic.
All along, the only thing she ever wanted was for it to be over and have justice for not only herself but for the girls who didn't make it.

***

Ian tells Sophia and Lucy tells Anthony what happened and although Sophia and Anthony both understood why, Sophia couldn't handle Ian sleeping with Lucy and Anthony said that maybe Lucy should be with Ian as he can't compete with someone she's been in love with for years. 

So both Lucy and Ian became single.

***

Lucy wakes up, a week later on a Saturday, because someone is ringing her doorbell. It’s a courier with a package. She signs for it, more than a little confused. She looked at the note on top.
 
The note reads - Lucy - please enjoy the enclosed. See you tonight. Yours, IH.

She rips open the packaging on the box, takes a deep breath, and flips open the lid. 

Inside is a gorgeous floor-length red gown. It’s incredibly soft to the touch, shows her off with a degree of class that Lucy only drools at in magazines.
Underneath the dress, shoes. And underneath the shoes, in a lockbox, jewellery.

Ian Harding is taking her out tonight.

***

There is candlelight, of course. And dinner. And a balcony view of LA that is unparalleled. Ian wears one of his fabulous suits and he laughs -- actually laughs, where his eyes crinkle up in the corners which is the best because that always surprises him -- when she makes him laugh like that. 

There’s good wine. Lots of it, spread over the four hours that they sit at the table and revel in each other.

The band plays ‘I Run To You’ and ‘Love Is Like A Butterfly’ and they dance, his hand on the small of her back. They wrap themselves up in each other and he kisses the side of her neck and she remembers when he did that before, right before he came inside her and she shivers.

“Lucy,” Ian says in her ear. “I would very much like to take you home.”

She’s perfectly sober. She wants him desperately. She takes his hand and smiles.

“Lead the way.”



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