The Double Date

Emotionally Hung Over

Harry pulled the blanket up over her head, like a cloak. Her head pounded and the smell of one of her roommates - probably Lydia - cooking breakfast turned her stomach. Damn hangover. She cursed herself again for being such a lightweight, and for spending too much of her meager savings drinks. Her left hand smarted, too, but she was less concerned about that right now.

She jumped slightly at the knock on her door.

"Hunnngh?" she groaned at the door. Which was supposed to mean either "go away" or "who is it" and her mind hadn't been quick enough to pick one before she spoke.

The door had swung open slightly at the force of knock, the latch didn't catch anymore, and much like the rest of the apartment was slowly falling apart around them. A hand pushed the door open a bit farther and Bridget slid herself into that small space, but not coming any farther into Harry's room. Harry saw that she was trying to smile, but her eyes looked... concerned, nervous, possibly disgusted? Harry wasn't sure.

Fuck, Harry thought I was hoping maybe she'd have forgotten last night, or not noticed somehow. She knew both of those were stupid hopes. Not only could Bridget drink her under the table without batting an eye, they'd been friends long enough that she'd noticed that something was off about Harry these last few months, Harry was certain of it.

Harry turned to look at Bridget, fixing her with a glare from underneath her blanket cape.

Bridget stepped back, surprised, but she had wedged herself into the door, so she just stumbled awkwardly.

"Can I... come in?" she asked tentatively.

May as well get this over with, Harry thought, willing herself to disappear into the blanket.

"Fine." she spat out, eyes focused intently on a thread escaping the stitching on the blanket.

Bridget slid in quietly and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, placing what Harry assumed was supposed to be a comforting hand, on her thigh. Harry felt her breath catch in her throat, but was immediately brought back to reality by the searing headache behind her eyes. She silently thanked whatever deities might be listening that the hangover distracted her from her more ...impure thoughts. Now was not the time. Not that there was a time, but, well, small victories, she supposed.

"So ... I ... uh" Bridget's voice was soft and Harry saw a flush creep across her face as she struggled to put together a sentence. Even though the hangover fog, her mind supplied her with an image of her gently sweeping back the curl that fell across her forehead and leaning in to kiss Bridget. For the seven hundredth time this morning, Harry cursed her past, much drunker, self's actions.

"If you're here to tell me what happened last night, Lydia beat you to it, plus, I remember most of it anyway. Unfortunately." She felt Bridget's hand flinch and pull away as she spat out the word "unfortunately". "I'm sorry I punched your date, though to be fair, he deserved it, and I'm only sorry because I ruined your night. I'll punch him again if he tries to do something you don't like again.. Though I probably shouldn't go on anymore double dates with you.." she faltered. She was rambling, stalling for time, so she wouldn't have to mention the next bit. On the off chance that Bridget had actually been much drunker than she seemed and didn't remember the rest of the night.

She was yanked out of her own thoughts by Bridget's laughter, loud and bright. She looked up and met Bridget's eyes. Harry couldn't place the look Bridget was giving her, but it was definitely not anger, which at least was good. Probably. And she had moved closer, and her hand was again resting on Harry's leg. Harry felt a flush spread across her face, part of her brain was screaming for her to move farther away before she did something irredeambly stupid, like, for instance, kissing Bridget, who was now sitting close enough to her, that all Harry would have to do, would be to lean forward just a bit, maybe putting her hand on Bridget's hip in the process. She shook her head, trying to dispel the image.

After what felt like an entire eternity, but Harry was fairly certain was really only a second or two. Bridget spoke, "No need to apologize for punching Robert, he was being an ass, and I mean, I could have dealt with him, but, it was... you're... Anyway thanks." She said, still fixing Harry with that same intense gaze that made Harry want to simultaneously disappear into her own skin, and also tackle Bridget on to her bed and do unspeakable things to her. "I uh, I think you're maybe right about how we shouldn't go on anymore of those double dates," she added, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. She did remember the kiss then. Harry willed herself once again to disappear into the threadbare mattress she sat on.

"Yeah? Yeah. No, that makes sense. I'm real sorry about..." she paused searching for some way to avoid acknowledging the next part of the evening, in the vain hope that maybe she could save some dignity.

"Don't be"

Harry sat bolt upright. She was pretty sure that the entire apartment had lurched beneath her.

"Wha-" Harry started to ask, but before she could finish forming anything that remotely resembled a coherent thought, Bridget was leaning in even closer and had slipped a hand behind her neck, as she touched her lips tentatively to Harry's.

Bridget pulled away slightly, the hand that had been on Harry's neck, now rested on her shoulder, where despite the layer of blanket, Harry was very very aware of it's warmth.

"What I mean to say, is that maybe we should skip the double part, of double date" She said, grinning.

Harry just stared at her. Trying to wrap her mind around exactly what had just happened. "Bridget Macgreggor, are you asking me to go dancing with you?" she finally asked, a ridiculous grin spreading across her face.

"I would love nothing more Harriet Thomas." Bridget replied.

Harry's brain had finally made it back to 1939, from wherever it had been a moment ago, and seemed determined to ruin her moment of excitement. "But we can't go to a dance hall, as two girls!?"

"Not the one we went to last night, sure," answered Bridget, "But my cousin, Jack, and his uh, fellah," she flashed a grin at Harry as she said it, and Harry considered tackling her onto the bed once again, "they know some places".

"Yeah, I'd like that" Harry answered.

"Next Saturday then" Bridget leaned in and kissed Harry again, this time, much less tentatively.

"Harry, I know you're awake. Get out here and have something to eat, you looked like death earlier!" called Lydia from the kitchen, startling them both. "You too, Bridget!"

Harry rolled her eyes, and Bridget called back with a sarcastic "Yes, MA", as they disentangled themselves, and walked out to breakfast.