The early morning light filtered through the faded, moth-eaten curtains of the dingy motel room, casting a feeble, grayish glow upon the worn-out carpet. Rose Wilson stood before the tarnished mirror, her dark eyes reflecting a sense of weary determination. She was getting dressed, her lithe figure concealed in a black leather catsuit, one that clung to her like a second skin. She prepared to place her armour over the suit, getting ready to meet up with the rest of the team as Murn had requested their presence. The atmosphere was charged with an undeniable tension, a tension which was broken. As soon as Rose finished looking in the mirror, her thoughts were broken by the loud snoring of one;
Y/N L/N lay sprawled on the rumpled sheets of the motel bed, bathed in the muted glow of the morning. His H/C hair was a tousled mess, and the slight scruff on his face hinted at a night not too well spent. He was, without a doubt, hungover. A soft, almost mischievous smile played on Rose's lips as she turned her attention away from the mirror and toward the man in her bed, or rather, the motel's bed.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Rose purred, her voice like a velvet whisper as she sauntered closer to the bed. Her knee-high boots made a barely audible thud on the creaky floorboards. She leaned over, allowing a cascade of hair to fall tantalisingly close to Y/N's face. "Time to rise and shine."
Y/N groaned, his eyes fluttering open like a pair of reluctant curtains. He squinted up at Rose, his vision still blurred from the remnants of last night's revelry. "Rose," he mumbled, his voice husky and filled with the remnants of a night of too much drinking. "What time is it?"
Rose flashed a sly grin as she straightened up, the leather of her catsuit whispering its approval. "Time to get up, lazy," she teased, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of his cheek. "We've got places to be, and I can't be the one to take the blame if we get shit for being late."
Y/N let out a low, appreciative chuckle, despite the pounding in his head. He couldn't deny that Rose had a way of making even a throbbing hangover seem a little more bearable. "You're always so damn serious," he murmured, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her closer.
Rose allowed herself to be drawn in, her body melting against his as she perched on the edge of the bed. Her eyes locked onto his, a smoldering intensity burning in her gaze. "Only when I have to be," she replied, her lips hovering dangerously close to his.
Y/N thought this was still a dream, a very nice dream as he could see Rose in a suit showing off her curves almost straddling him. Hell, if this was a dream he never wanted to wake up. Just as the man thought he was about to get lucky
Smack
A big red hand mark appeared on his face as Rose lifted herself off of him and he held his face in shock. The cheeky bitch slapped him hard, and she held that teasing smirk and then a shocked face, she knew exactly what she was doing.
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"Did you really think that was going to happen?" she smiled, going back to the mirror and fixing her hair.
"Maybe ow" Y/N answered, sitting up and swinging his legs over to stand up properly. "Did you really have to hit me that hard?" he asked, walking across the room towards the bathroom.
