Who: Isobel Egg and Archie MacMillan
What: The Morning-After Sex. No, literally, The Morning After-Sex.
Where: His flat
When: Morning...time >___>; aka Cristina and Ron got anxious
WARNING: This thread was done in two hours and is full of lulz. Beverages and food are discouraged while viewing this thread. If read while listening to ABBA's "Honey Honey" hilariousity will intensify.



Her sheet was proving to be quite resistant. Isobel tugged on it once more, as it seemed to be stuck under...something, and she didn't know what or why or how. All she wanted to do was cover up, because there was such a damn draft in this flat!

Wait.

No there wasn't.

There was no draft in her flat.

Isobel's eyes shot open and she blinked furiously at the dresser that wasn't hers, gaze dropping down to the shoes that weren't hers, looking over at the pair of knickers strewn across the side table that weren't---well. Those were hers, but why were they----

She let out a sound that resembled something of an owl hooting as her eyes moved to look over herself and saw quite obviously that she was naked under this sheet-that-wasn't-hers. What the hell did she have to drink last night? What--why was that pillow moving? Oh--oh that wasn't a pillow, that was---oh dear God.

"Icantbelievethisnonsense," she muttered quickly and in a high-pitched tone as she snatched the sheet out of Archie MacMillan's sleeping iron-fisted grip. He was even rude in his sleep---Isobel, while completely flabbergasted as to how this came about, wasted no time in wrapping herself up in the sheet (avoiding looking at what she assumed was Archie's naked form on the bed) and collected her belongings.

It was then that something started to sing, a somewhat familiar tune she recognized as muggle, and Izzie spun back and forth trying to find the source of the voice---it was...what, was his clock singing?

It's early.

It's disgustingly early.

At least, that's what Archie thought upon waking. It was disgustingly early, and gods, what a headache he had. Well, less of a headache and more of a dull throb between his ears. Gillywater. Gillywater and tonic, that definitely sounded like a good idea.

But for the time being, he thought it would be a good idea to just rest his eyes for a few more minutes. The dull throb in his head was producing a lot of weird noise, like clanking and pitter-patters and a couple of hissing noises--on the whole, very unpleasant-feeling for his head.

All of this was interrupted by his clock belting out a loud tune on the dot of 7:15 in the morning. A Muggle concept he found to be on infinite use, and it usually sang something on the WWN, but the clock had developed a taste of its own, and generally preferred playing rocking Muggle tunes as loud as it could bring itself to.

Not a good combination for a headache.

Archie leaned over with his eyes closed, mumbling about how he wished he could sleep longer, cursing work, with his hand inching blindly across the bedside table in search of his wand to shut the thing up.

But in the process he opened his eyes and happened to see a shape frozen in an upright position just next to his bed.

And he was rather cold.

Not cold, so much as he could feel a large amount of air moving against him.

Squinting, he raised his head to look at the shape more clearly, and the face of Isobel Egg came into focus. Well, this was a peculiar dream.

Usually there was a distinct lack of morning-afters in dreams like these. And usually the clock didn't start singing.

And usually he didn't have a headache.

"Oh, god."

She wasn't going to wait for him to become functional. Izzie turned away from Archie's still hopefully dreary gaze and---where the hell was his bathroom? Oh, God, she couldn't go running around his flat looking for one, and she sure as hell couldn't apparate to her flat in this state because---what if she missed calculated (like she has before) and ended up in the middle of the street? No, no no, not the best of situations to end up in, especially when you were starkers.

Just--ignore him. She could do that. She'd been ignoring his owls for weeks, and she'd ignored his requests to remove magic from her studio for days, so---so why the hell hadn't she ignored him last night?

Izzie froze again, trying to recall what could have possibly sparked...this, but she couldn't, and in utter despair she dropped down to the ground on the other side of his bed, throwing the sheet off of her and over her head to hide herself as she attempted to change into her clothes from the night before. Clothes from the night before, Mineko was going to think she was such a bloody tart when she told her.

At least it had been good---ah, oh God, had he poisoned her, or something?

"This is all your fault!"

Archie dove off the side of the bed to where he could spot the cuffs of some pair of trousers and pulled them up as fast as he could ever remember pulling on a piece of clothing. Through some corner of his eye, he saw a sheet fly up and could see the top of Isobel's head bob as she did exactly the same thing he did.

"My fault!" he yelled angrily, turning to look at her and then look away very quickly as part of the sheet has loosened itself around her.

"You've got to stop blaming me for things that don't go exactly as planned, Miss Egg," he said, sternly, and to his shoulder.

Miss Egg? What did he call her last ni- oh, Merlin, he didn't even want to think about the events of last night. How did this--how of all the girls to wind up in his bed, did this one wind up there?

He scratched his head uncertainly, perching on the side of the bed facing completely away from Isobel. "I wouldn't be surprised if this was completely your idea to, to, I don't know! But I bet you're just as much to blame as I am! After all, it takes two, to, er, to--"

Bad choice of sayings.

"You are kidding me!" Isobel shouted through the seat, arching her back against his bed to pull up her skirt. Dressing yourself was bloody hard to do under a blanket and on the floor, she'd like you to know. Finally getting herself zipped up, Izzie had a bit of trouble getting detangled from the sheet, but finally managed to fling it off of her and point a stern finger at Archie's back. "You were the one that---"

She couldn't remember. What had been in those drinks anyway? Isobel recalled the rather decent dinner, and she remembered agreeing to sit at the bar for a little bit, as it was still early and...there'd been a performance of sorts going on and...

Her fists curled. She remembered what had caused everything. Isobel felt her face heat up, recalling how miffed she had been, and how extremely angry the fight Archie had created got her. He was so---so----

"You're the one that held the door open for me!"

Honestly, acting all chauvinistic as if she couldn't open the door for herself. Bloody ridiculous, that's what he was, and he had refused to never not do it again!

How had this happened? How had he let this happen, more importantly, she was a case! Not just a case, she was an arrestee, and he had asked her to dinner! And apparently, a little more than dinner had happened! This was not good, this was not good at all. It was all very well to wine and dine with clients (well, arrestee, was probably a more appropriate word, and it wasn't okay to din-- but unimportant!), but this was considerably more than wine and dine!

Hazarding a glance behind him, he saw she was dressed, if slightly haphazardly. And then she started yelling at him about chauvinism! Of all things, this was just, this was ridiculous! This was not worth wine and dining, let alone, other things!

"Now hold on a minute," he snapped, whirling around, hands firmly on the bed. "I held the door open for you because I am a gentleman and it's what we do, and if you remember, there was a poor, defenseless old woman behind you who could barely hold her cane, let alone support a thick oak door!"

"Ahha!" she let out, coming around the bed quickly with her finger still pointedly stiffly at him, "So you admit that there were ulterior motives behind all of that nonsense!"

Isobel could not even begin to imagine why this would have gotten her mad last night, or at all, but she couldn't focus on the fact that he was just being nice and only on the fact that it had pissed her off. No valid reasoning behind any of it, but she couldn't let him know that she was wrong and he was right. God! She'd never hear the end of it if she let that slip!

Not that she was planning on seeing him again (and now she knew that this whole 'date' business had been the poorest decision of her life), no, no sir. Look at all the trouble he's brought upon her! Messing up her studio, sitting in a jail cell for and hour, having her mother come to bail her out (that might be worse than the accidental, drunken sex--), and then having accidental, drunken sex with her! Yeah, okay, even though dealing with her mother had been worse than the sex (GOD stop thinking about it--), he was still the reason behind all of her misfortune.

"You---you insufferable---git!" she snapped, wishing she could come up with a better insult.

"Me!" he demanded, incredulously, batting her pointed finger away. "An insufferable gi-- ulterior motiv-- who do you think you are, anyway!"

This was unbelievable. No matter how many times he thought this, it just seemed to lapse more into the ridiculous. Yes, he had overreacted perhaps a tiny bit in the beginning of their relationship (NO! NOT a relationship! Not even close, nothing like a relationship!), he conceded that, but he was fully within the law to do that! He had studied it rather extensively, Archie knew what he could and could not do. And this Isobel Egg was just acting completely ridiculous. And he let her! And he did practically everything he could in order to top that ridiculousness.

"And besides, you--you didn't have to say yes!" Archie cried, walking til he was almost nose-to-nose with her. "If you thought I was going to go all--all chauvinistic and--and gentlemanly on you, you had every right to decline my dinner invitation!"

Gods, but he was a bit happy she didn't.

NO! Where were these thoughts even coming from!

Isobel pushed herself up on her tiptoes as high as she could go (and that was pretty high, she did this a lot) so that she could almost glare at him eye-to-eye. Why did he have to be so tall? Being this height made it extremely hard for her to tower over him, you know! Another thing that was completely wrong about Archie MacMillan that Isobel could not stand. Merlin's left---it was like he was born to annoy every aspect of her personality and being!

"NOW! NOW YOU SEE HERE!" she shotued, dropping back flat footed for a moment only to push herself up again, "YOU----YOU----STUPID---!"

There was nothing she could say! All he'd been was nice and kind and thoughtful and that just wasn't right. Why the hell had she gotten mad? There had to have been a reason, something she was forgetting, something that her still very hungover state was forcing her to forget. Maybe he tripped her, or maybe he lifted up her skirt, or maybe---maybe---something! He'd done something to make her act crazy and it was absolutely killing her not knowing what!

Her lips twisted and pursed angrily, and a not-so-bright solution popped into her head, realizing that there was only one sure fire way out of this---no, that was complete bollocks, this would mess things up more, but at least it would get him to shut up and let her think--

"Bloody toerag!" she let out before grabbing the side of Archie's face and pulling him down into a kiss that she was sure knocked out some of her teeth. At least now he'd shut up.

At least he was taller than her, that was something. It was almost the only thing that was completely manly about him that she didn't just, just yank away and make him feel terribly guilty for possessing testosterone-- Merlin! She was terrible. He couldn't be a jerk, he couldn't be nice, he couldn't be anything, really, and it would still make her angry!

He just couldn't win!

Archie tried, in vain, to remember the specifics of last night, the exact details so as to help him assess exactly why she had amped up her level of hostility. Perhaps he had make some off-color remark to her? But that didn't sound like him. Or perhaps he had reminded her about how she had broken several secrecy Statues and served time in jail, only to be bailed out by her mother?

But that wasn't exactly dinner date conversation, was it?

This was all very frustrating and very unhelpful and all the while he was thinking about how this was frustrating, unhelpful, etc., he somehow found himself leaning in more angrily by the second until out of NOWHERE (well, not nowhere, they were within an centimeter of each other's faces), hands grabbed the side of his face and--and, yes. She was DEFINITELY snogging him.

He had so much to say, he had so much to yell at her for, and he suddenly couldn't remember what it was he had opened his mouth to say before she rudely distracted him.

With her lips.

With her-- oh bloody hell.

This was proving highly counterproductive.

Isobel's hands wasted no time in letting go of Archie's face to grip onto his shoulders as he pushed her back down onto the bed and---what! What, okay---okay, no, they couldn't do this again because that would just make her scream after the fact (and during--GOD she couldn't stop THINKING about it!) and it would just make her miserable!

A very pleased, relaxed miserable, but miserable all the same. There weren't many good ways to be miserable.

So, why was she letting him scrunch up his bed covers with her back? This had to be some sort of ministry spell he'd concocted to get her distracted enough--maybe that stupid committee he was on was at her studio right now, performing a surprise raid on it to make sure that there was no magic anywhere!

That really meant she should get up and try to stop the shenanigans, but now he was doing this thing to her neck, and---she could definitely sue him for this, she was sure. There was no way she was doing this under her own free will, and Isobel let out a gasp--it was supposed to be of indignation, but she grew very flustered with herself when she realized it sounded nothing like annoyance.

At this point in time (this point in time being on top of Isobel Egg, on his bed, in his flat, partially recovering from a bad hangover headache), all Archie could really process, beyond the fact that he was currently planning on continuing the previous night's activities, was that he was really, thoroughly pleased he was neither drugged nor intoxicated.

This was totally going to make up for the berating she was sure to give him afterward.