my character finding yours high/drunk
a poem my character wrote about yours
one character teasing the other
our characters waking up together
our characters attacked by thieves!
a letter from my character to yours
Okay, so he'd never expected so many things to happen when he'd found his friend absolutely wasted in town that night but considering that the police coming to arrest her for public intoxication was probably more trouble than it was worth he picked her up and carried her back to his own home while talking as much as he could to distract her from yelling that she was being kidnapped by an Interpol agent.
Being attacked by a group of thieves on the way back didn't really help- thankfully he'd thought to take some of his Pokémon with him and his usual Steel-duo quickly wiped the floor with them, but he wasn't sure his drunken Rocket friend remembered just how terrible his writing abilities were when she'd loudly requested that he write a poem about their victory. Well, he did pull out a pen and paper when they'd finally reached his house and wrote a three-line poem in Unovan because it was the only language in which he had reasonable spelling abilities.
Trust will grow slowlyFor we both have our secretsDo not be afraid
He wasn't sure she understood a word of Unovan, but at least she seemed satisfied by his effort.
It took a while, but after several glasses of water and lots of prompting, he finally managed to get her to slip into his bed and sleep. He still wandered in and out of the bedroom a few times after that, with a couple bottles of water from the kitchen and a note on the nightstand which read 'mak sur you drink alot of watr' in the hopes that she would wake up and be sober enough to understand that it wasn't foreign gibberish and that she would do as written, since it helped reduce the hangover-effect and he didn't need her feeling like her head was being smashed in by a sledgehammer in the morning.
He was so exhausted that he fell asleep sitting against the bed.
The first conscious thing he was awake enough to remember was standing in the restroom and drying his hair off. According to what he'd been told when he finally loped down the stairs to the kitchen to make himself some coffee, he'd been poked awake, slurred odd sounds, been very reluctant to stand up, crawled under the bed in a failed attempt to sleep some more, and had a cup of water poured over his face which he'd wiped against his sleeve with the motivation of a Slowpoke. And now she was teasing him about the fact that he looked twice as hungover as she did. He sat at the table and buried his face in his sleeves as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.
Letting her witness just how badly mornings affected him was only one of the things that made him wonder why he'd thought bringing her into his house had been a good idea.
