RowAelin One-Shots

Morning Meeting

Rowan wiped away the drowsiness from his eyes with a limp arm. This was the fourth morning in a row he had been woken by an obnoxious sound a floor below him – the sound of a loud alarm clock, blaring the beat of some cacophonous song. He groaned, not willing to drag himself out of his half-lethargic state just yet. It was only 7:30 AM; by his standards, too early to start any day. The continued blast of noise is what propelled him over the edge of his bed to dress himself. A simple set of slacks and a T-shirt would do: he was going to berate the owner of the apartment below him, then return shortly thereafter.

Grabbing a cookie off the kitchen counter on his way out, crumbs littered the steps in his wake as he made his way down the hallway outside his door. The snack quickly disappeared into his stomach before he reached the bottom of the stairwell. "This person is sure to rethink their stupid alarm once he gets a piece of my mind," Rowan thought smugly. His steps were muffled by the swish of his pants. These pants were slightly too long, and the hem around his ankles draped along the ground. It did not occur to him to dress with more consideration – after all, he had just woken up.

A yawn and a few steps later, he wound up at the door of the apartment directly below his own. He mussed his hair with a tired hand and knocked on the door lightly with the other. After a moment's thought he considered knocking again with more force, but he detected the sound of footsteps plodding along inside the apartment. Rowan expected a heavy-set man from the footsteps, but instead the door was opened by a shorter woman with tangled blond hair. Her eyes were lidded halfway from, he assumed, just having woken up.

"Can I help you?" The woman mumbled, rubbing her eyes with an arm hidden beneath a sleeve way too large for her size. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed more details about female. For one, she was wearing only an oversized long-sleeved shirt (and bunny slippers). However, once she looked up at him from beneath her long eyelashes, he also noticed her eyes were a striking ice blue with slight golden rings around the pupils. If those were not intriguing enough, her demeanor certainly was. After noticing his stare, the woman once again turned a question to him.

"Can I help you?" The question was asked again, this time with irritation lacing every word. Far from modest, this woman straightened herself and jabbed a finger into Rowan's chest. "If you aren't going to answer, don't bother ringing the bell." She groaned and made a move to slam the door. Before she was able to, Rowan planted a firm hand on the door.

"Yes, in fact, you can. I came to complain about your alarm clock, Miss." He replied stoically. Attempting to maintain his composure, Rowan smiled and held out his other hand for a handshake. With one hand on the door and the other held into empty space, he spoke again. "I am Rowan Whitethorn, pleased to make your acquaintance."

The woman snorted, not fooled by the show he was putting on. "My name's Aelin, but I still don't understand why you're here. Care to explain, Mr. Whitethorn?" Aelin leaned against the doorframe and crossed both arms in front of her chest, somehow pulling off a casual conversation despite her attire.

Rowan once again pursued a gentle smile, although his pine green eyes shone with annoyance. Clearing his throat, he moved to fold both hands behind his back and straightened out. All trace of his previous drowsiness had disappeared, along with his affable demeanor.

"I came to request that you shut that damned thing," he pointed inside her apartment at the loud blare still sounding from the alarm clock, "up, if you please." The gentle smile, which had been replaced with a venomous look while he spoke, reappeared on his face. He had barely turned around before Aelin erupted into laughter, amusement lighting up her face.

"No." She replied simply, covering another snigger up with her fist.

"What did you say?" He asked, the calm slowly deteriorating.