Drabbles. {Fifth Harmony}

10. Don't Panic {Normila}

Normani woke to the ear piercing sound of a twitter alert, and flinched, opening her eyes to find herself blinded by the afternoon light streaming in the hotel room window.

"Ugh..." she groaned, pulling the covers up over her face and trying to ignore the pounding headache that was building in her temples. The sheets were soft enough, at least, smooth against her bare chest.

Bare chest. That wasn't normal, was it? How drunk had she been? Normani blinked, and then pushed the covers back, and off of her body. Sure enough, she was entirely naked except for what looked like a pair of stockings, tangled up in her legs.

Shielding her eyes from the light, Normani sat up to get a closer look, and realized that the stockings weren't hers. Rubbing her face with her hands, she looked around the room, and spotted three more items of clothing that also definitely weren't hers - a stretchy black skirt on the floor, a tiny white crop top, and a cream colored bra about five sizes too small for Normani, which was sitting precariously on top of the lamp next to the bed.

"Camila?" Normani called after a moment, shaking her head, her voice coming out rough and tired. "You still here?"

"Still here," came the reply from inside the little ensuite bathroom, Camila's voice sounding equally strained.

"Can you think of any reason why your bra would be on my lamp?"

The door to the bathroom opened wider, and Normani squinted at Camila, who was now leaning against the doorframe, a towel held over her front, brushing her messy hair off her shoulder to display an impressive collection of relatively fresh hickeys on her neck. Normani's eyes widened.

"I'm guessing it's the same reason I'm gonna have to improvise a scarf until I can get enough concealer to cover these up," she rasped dryly.

"Did...did I do that?" Normani asked, staring at Camila's neck blankly.

"I hope so," Camila said, grimacing slightly. "I mean, if someone has to cover me with marks, I'd rather it was you than someone I met last night and don't remember at all."

For some reason, the sentiment struck Normani as strangely sweet, and she half smiled.

"You're welcome, I guess?" Normani said.

"Okay," Camila said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm gonna, you know, shower now, if you don't mind."

Nodding, Normani flapped a hand at Camila, watching her as she shut the door. Then, Normani slumped back onto the pillows, blinking up at the ceiling and trying to take everything in.

Apparently, their girls' night out had ended with Normani bringing Camila back to her room, and absolutely wrecking her, just like she'd been wanting to for years. And, irritatingly, she couldn't remember any of it.

Normani rolled onto her side, catching a glimpse of her own panties in a heap on the floor. She looked up again at Camila's bra, which was still perched on top of her lamp, and then something else caught her eye.

Reaching out a lazy hand, she picked up the piece of cream colored paper from her night table, frowning slightly as she tried to remember what it was. She turned it over in her hands, reading the words at the top of the page.

Choking on air, Normani immediately set it back down again, and flipped onto her back, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyelids as if she could rub the image out of her mind.

"Fuck," she muttered. The bathroom door opened again, and Normani heard Camila's footsteps.

"Mani," Camila said warily. Normani opened her eyes, peering down to see Camila clutching the towel around her chest tightly, her damp hair messy and tousled around her slightly flushed face.

There were hickeys scattered on her chest, too, and, with a hint of surprise, Normani realized that she wished she could remember what Camila's skin had tasted like. There was a lot of things about the night before that Normani wished she could remember, now that she thought about it. The sex had been really hot, if the ache in Normani's right hand and between her thighs was anything to judge by.

Propping herself up on her arms, Normani noticed a bouquet of fake, hot pink flowers on the table by the hotel room door, and shook her head.

"What is it, Mila?"

"Don't panic, but..." Camila paused, swallowing. "I think we may have accidentally gotten married."

"Camila, I -"

"- Oh, and you were the one who proposed," Camila added. She held up her left hand, wiggling the fingers to display what was obviously a plastic ring, the large fake 'diamond' centerpiece scratched and obnoxious. "So it's not my fault, please don't be mad, I'm really suggestible when I'm drunk."

Sighing, Normani reached for the piece of paper on her night table, and held it up for Camila to see.

"We definitely got married," Normani said. "And we consummated the marriage, too, looks like," she added, nodding at Camila's bra. "So how does it feel to be Camila Hamilton?"

"No," Camila said, shaking her head and leaning forward to get a better look at the certificate, a smirk forming on her face as she read the words. "According to this, I'm still a Cabello. So are you, actually...Mrs. Normani Cabello, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"What?!"