Make It Known

DELETED SCENE #3 - Drunk Phone Call

A/N:

This didn't really fit anywhere but I loved it anyways. Somewhere between Mel's sex dream and the aftermath of Dylan's x-mas party. Enjoy.

***

I don't usually get drunk. Not so drunk that I start losing my inhibitions and talking funny. Because I don't really like being out of control, and I am a very sloppy, stupidly honest drunk.

And that's probably why after drowning out my sorrows with way too much tequila, I somehow decide it's an okay idea to call Dylan.

"Mel?" His same low voice sounds surprised to hear me. How late is it again? I don't know.

"Dylan," I whine, stretched out restlessly across my couch. "I'm just... I just want Gavin so bad. I just... I'm, he's... please, Dylan." My words are slurred and heavy and I'm begging him and I don't know why.

I can hear his breathing on the other end, hear him exhale a deep sigh. "Melanie, you sound plastered. How much have you had to drink?"

"I don't know, Dylan. I'm... I just need him, Dylan. But I can't have him and... and I wanna Pulitzer but I want him and he's so handsome." I press my phone lazily to my ear, continuing with my tirade of verbal diarrhea while he tries to figure out what the hell to say to me. "And you're so handsome too, Dylan. You're so distracting. I want Gavin but you kissed me and then I had a sex dream about you guys and..."

He swears softly under his breath, I can imagine the confusion and amusement and bewilderment all over his face. "Bloody hell, Melanie. Are you safe right now? Is someone with you?"

"Detective Rowley," I chastise, "Obviously you can't hear any noise in the background because I'm at home, silly." My giggle turns into a sad whimper when I think of Gavin. Oh, my Gavin. He's so so so perfect.

I hear small, relieved breath. His voice is a little rougher and filled with laughter when he asks, "Wait, so what was this about a sex dream, now?"

"Dyl...aaan." I'm squirming, wiggling my toes. I try counting them but I only get to four before I lose count and have to start over again. "You don't understand." My eyes start stinging, and again I don't know why but I'm suddenly so emotional. "I'm so sad, Dylan."

"You are going to hate yourself in the morning, love," he mutters. I can practically picture his handsome face scrunched into a mix of concern and mischief.

I wipe away the tears, suddenly conscious of the other jittery feelings gnawing across my skin and in my gut and my heart. "And I am just so horny, Dylan. And... and my fingers don't work anymore and..." And I let out a high-pitched moan of annoyance and irritation.

He mumbles something foul under his breath. "Bloody hell, Melanie." A pause. "How many fingers are yo—you know what, never-mind."

"I need help, Dylan. Please help me."

More gruff, tortured swearing. "I'm not gonna sleep with you, Mel. Not tonight, love. Not when you can barely talk properly." I imagine him running a distressed hand through that thick, black-brown hair while exhaling a heavy sigh. "Sorry, doll."

I roll my eyes. "I don't wanna sleep with you, Dylan." Except... he would give me a billion orgasms, wouldn't he? He lets out a raspy chuckle and I can feel it settle across my tingling skin. "Have I ever told you that you have a really sexy voice? Your accent is so hot, Dylan."

I can hear him trying to stifle is laughter. "You're more fun when you're drunk, darling. We should try this again sometime."

My fingers skate absently beneath my t-shirt, tracing the soft skin of my stomach. I miss Gavin's fingers, and his hands, and his mouth, and his dick.

"But I want... I just want him so bad, Dylan." I let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a hiccup. "I love him."

A surprised breath, some cursing. "You know what, darling? I'm going to message you a phone number and you call it, yeah? I think it will help."

"Okey-dokey." I giggle. "Like a sex hotline or something?"

He chuckles. "Something like that."

Hm. Now I'm just curious.

"So... call the number?"

"Yes, Melanie. I'm going to hang up now and send it to you, yeah?" I think I hear him mutter something about a cold shower before the line disconnects.

A couple moments later, I get a message from Dylan with a phone number. Toronto area code... a local sex hotline. Why does this number look familiar?

I click on it, press the phone to my ear while it rings.

"Hello?"

Oh. Just the simplest word in that familiar voice makes me inhale a sharp breath. "Gavin?" I sound weak and breathless and surprised.

"Melanie?" He also sounds surprised. "Is everything okay?"

"Um... oh." My head is starting to hurt because I think that I'm not supposed to call him or talk to him like this. "I think Dylan gave me the wrong number, I..."

He swears under his breath. "Somehow I think Dylan knew exactly which number he gave you." A pause. "You sound drunk, Mel. You okay?"

"No. No, Gavin," I whine. "I'm not okay. I'm horny and sad and I just... please Gavin. I..." A morose hiccup. "I love you, Gavin."

Oh. I don't think I was supposed to say that...

***

A/N:

...Use your imagination