Poison Ivy

Chapter Twenty-Two: Oh, what a beautiful morning.

She first showed signs of life around about ten past ten in the morning, stirring under the cocoon of pillows and duvet she'd created in her sleep. Soon after the groan emanated from within her nest, a head poked out, hair fluffy and all over the place, eyes hooded, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Perfect timing," I called across to her, setting down the tray, which I had hunted around in her kitchen cupboards for, for at least twenty minutes. On the tray rested one grey-white porcelain plate with toast, eggs, tomatoes, sausage, black pudding, mushrooms and bacon strips, all fried to perfection if I do say so myself. Next to the plate was a tall glass of orange juice. "I made you breakfast."

Another groan left her lips as she pushed her hands up and out of the duvet to rub thoroughly at her eyes, her nose scrunching up as she did so. "Ugh, where am I?"

"Home," I chuckled.

"And who are you?"

I snorted back a laugh, picking the plate and glass up before walking across to her. "Consider me your guardian angel." I replied, holding out my arms towards her, waiting for her to sit up.

"Andy..." she trailed off, pushing herself up into a sitting position, throwing me a look of irritation and utter confusion. She took the glass of orange juice from me, chugging the cold fresh liquid down. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

She really sobers up with sleep I thought, grimacing slightly at her accusatory glare. "Somebody's a morning person."

Her frown deepened, and she let out a pissed off huff of breath. "Fuck off."

"Is that really how you speak to the man that politely declined your horny, wasted ass in the most gentlemanly way possible and managed to smuggle you out of a party with your dignity still intact despite your lack of clothing?"

Her face, for a moment, cleared to an expression of confusion – and, probably not appropriate given the situation, but I found it incredibly adorable – and her eyes widened slightly, before she let out another, softer huff of breath – one of relief. "So ... we didn't do ... stuff."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Not for lack of trying on your part."

"Oh god," she moaned, pressing her face into her hands. "I don't remember a goddamed thing. I wasn't that bad, was I?"

I grinned, crookedly. "Oh, you were." I sat down on the end of the bed, on the very edge. "My favourite was when you asked me if I was from Japan."

She moaned, even louder. (Totally different from the moans I heard from lovemaking, but still) "The Japanties pick-up line? Jesus." And, under her breath, I heard her mutter "That is the last time I let Wesley convince me that we should google cheesy pick-up lines."

It was quiet for a moment, before she finally lifted her head up and pulled a face. "Where's the aspirin?" she swivelled her head, searching. "Where's my bag?"

"Um ... in the fridge." I said.

"The ... the what?" there was that frown again.

"The fridge." I repeated. "Apparently drunk Ivy likes to play pranks on sober Ivy."

She grimaced. "God, I hate drunk Ivy with a burning passion."

I laughed. "I actually kind of like her. She's spunky. And fun."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You would."

I decided to ignore her snarky remark, and instead gestured toward the breakfast plate. "You should eat."