InsaneJournal

Who: Ariadne and Eames, open to Huck Finn
When: This morning
Where: Eames's bedroom
What: A rather different sort of morning-after talk.
Rating/Status: Probably PG-13 for language; incomplete


It wasn't that the couch was uncomfortable. Sure, it wasn't quite long enough for someone of Arthur's stature, but Ariadne didn't have that problem. Mostly she just needed a night out of the apartment. A few hours without Phil bursting into tears and Ariadne having no idea how to respond, without Arthur trying to be a parent when he clearly was still mostly lost himself. Maybe it was a little selfish to want to escape from that for a while; Ariadne kind of didn't care. If things had been different she might have crashed with Sirius, but that wasn't even close to an option. So instead she let herself into Eames's apartment and did, in fact, make herself at home, curling up in his bed and falling asleep.

She didn't wake up when Eames joined her. At some point during the night she drifted awake and realized that the pair of them were tangled up together, but she was warm and comfortable and going back to sleep was far easier than feeling embarassed about anything. It wasn't till that morning, when she felt something tickling and scratching lightly on her shoulder, that she woke up properly.

"Whdryadun?" she mumbled into the pillow, then raised her head slightly. "Eames?"