When Fitzroy awoke on Saturday morning to the bright springtime sun, he found himself confronted with a number of peculiarities. The first of which — which, admittedly, was the least curious of the bunch — was that he had a splitting headache.
Fitzroy was known to party occasionally, but he didn’t typically drink, and he very rarely got drunk enough to elicit a hangover. He recalled very little of the night prior; only flashing lights, loud music, the smell of perspiration in a dimmed room... but that was all.
Another peculiarity struck him right then as the hazy memory resurfaced: Fitzroy was completely naked. Still covered by heaps of blankets, of course, so he wasn’t cold, but his bare skin felt odd against the fabric of the comforter.
The most peculiar of all, however, was that he was definitely not in his own bedroom. He’d been in this particular bedroom once before, but even if he hadn’t, he’d know whose it was virtually instantly. If the pastel clothing with a gothic flair hanging neatly in the closet didn’t give it away, the piles of small animal bones lying just underneath certainly would.
As Fitzroy began to put the pieces together in his hungover delirium, he began to feel sick to his stomach. Surely he hadn’t...done anything with Rainer Michelle? He didn’t even think he liked that stuff—of course, it was possible that all rational thought had left him while he had been intoxicated—however it was almost never something he thought about or considered. Everything about this odd situation seemed to suggest otherwise, though.
Rainer herself wasn’t in the bed with him, he quickly noticed. Perhaps she had run to the restroom, or perhaps she had to leave her dorm room for something and didn’t want to wake Fitzroy, or perhaps she had simply been so mortified at what she’d done that she’d simply run out with the hope that he’d be gone by the time she returned.
No, there were noises coming from elsewhere; she was definitely in her dorm, and she definitely knew that he was, too. For a reason Fitzroy couldn’t identify, that made him feel worse.
Fitzroy knew that Rainer had no roommate, and based on prior experience he also knew that she had a meager kitchen between her bedroom and the front door.
He was half-tempted to gather his things and bolt out the door without a word to Rainer at all, but after a moment of contemplation he decided that wouldn’t be gentlemanly in the slightest. After sheepishly pulling on his clothes that were scattered all over the floor (there came that regret-induced nausea again), he slowly opened the bedroom door and peeked out into the kitchenette.
Rainer was standing up (something Fitzroy had only seen her do once or twice before), poring over the stove with a spatula in one hand while quietly humming to herself. The room was filled with sweet aromas of cinnamon and coffee, and Fitzroy quickly realized he was starving.
At the sound of the door creaking open, Rainer turned and smiled. “Well good morning, Sir Fancy Pants,” she said with a curtsy. At the sight of her carefree smile, Fitzroy felt a bit better.
“How do you do, Lady Lich?” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. Rainer giggled and turned back to the food she was making. “Rainer, um...”
“Breakfast is almost ready, why don’t you take a seat?” She gestured toward the small table in the corner, which had two mugs of coffee and two place settings already prepared. “I made coffee for you, but I couldn’t remember how much sugar you take, so I just left a bowl of sugar cubes out for you.”
“Oh, er—thank you.” Fitzroy shuffled over to the table and sat down gingerly, as if he was scared that anything he touched would shatter. As he did so, Rainer shot a spell to his beverage, heating it back up and causing sweet-smelling steam to escape from the mug.
She added the finishing touches to the breakfast she was making while Fitzroy (after adding eight sugar cubes) wordlessly nursed his coffee. “Bartholemew,” she said to seemingly nobody, “be a dear and grab us some plates, please.”
At her command, a tiny rodent-shaped skeleton scattered up the counter, weaseled its way into a cupboard and opened it from the inside, carrying one small plate in each paw. Apparently, they were a lot stronger than they looked.
“They have names?” Fitzroy asked.
“Well, of course they have names,” Rainer replied, sliding the contents of the pan into both plates. “It would be rude to just say, ‘hey you’.”
“Are any of them named Fitzroy Junior?”
“No, not yet,” she replied, grinning. “Next one I meet, though. Promise.” She took the plates from the rodent skeleton and brought them to the table, placing one in front of Fitzroy.
“Crêpes!” he exclaimed upon seeing the breakfast that had been placed in front of him.
“Well, what else?” Rainer replied, sitting down across from him. “I was experimenting a little with the flavor. They’re cinnamon, chocolate, and pear, which I know sounds weird, but actually makes for a very good combination.”
She was right. They were the best crêpes Fitzroy had ever tasted, or maybe he was just hungry. He couldn’t remember what his last meal had been last night, before... well, before everything happened.
“Rainer, can I ask you something?” Fitzroy asked, his voice a notch quieter.
“Sure.”
“Did we, um...” he swallowed nervously, putting down his fork. Rainer furrowed her eyebrows, concerned. “Last night. Did we, like...do anything? Together?”
She thought it over for a moment. “Well, we both went to that party at Springs Eternal—”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Like, did we...uh...sleep...together? Well, obviously, we were in the same bed, so we did sleep together, like, next to each other, but...did we like...”
“Did we hook up, you mean?” Rainer asked. Fitzroy envied the steadiness in her voice.
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly.
She smiled and shook her head. “No, nothing like that.” A wave of relief washed over Fitzroy. “You did kiss me a few times, which was nice,” she continued, fiddling with her fork as her cheeks turned a bit pink, “but that was as far as it went. Why, is that...something you want to do?”
“No!” Fitzroy said, rather more quickly than was probably appropriate.
Rainer’s eyebrows shot up.
“I mean, not with you,” Fitzroy corrected. Rainer crossed her arms and eyed him suspiciously. “No! Shit, that’s not what I mean, I...”
He put his head in his hands, hoping that Rainer would somehow read his mind and say something that would fix everything. After a long moment, it was clear that she wasn’t going to.
“It’s...” he sighed, looking at Rainer again. “I don’t like that stuff. At all. I don’t ever want to do it with anyone.”
She looked concerned for a moment, and then Fitzroy saw a wave of understanding cross her face. “Oh,” she said with a small smile.
“Yeah.”
“You know you could have just told me, right?” Rainer asked.
“Yeah, I...I know.”
She took his hand in hers from across the table. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he replied, running his thumb over hers absentmindedly, which made Rainer smile. “I was just worried you’d think I’m weird or...broken, or something.”
“Fitzroy Maplecourt,” Rainer said. “I know you’re weird. Why do you think I like you so much?”
He chuckled at that.
“But don’t worry, Lord Fancy Lad. You’re not weird because of what you like or don’t like. And you’re sure as hell not broken.”
They held hands across the table for a moment, drinking in the silence that was filled to the brim with understanding and affection. Fitzroy tried to keep tears of relief and happiness from welling up inside of his ducts, but imagined that he was failing rather miserably.
“Hey, why did you bring me back here, anyway?” Fitzroy asked, sniffling a bit.
Rainer laughed. “You were shitfaced. You kept saying that you didn’t want Argo and the Firbolg to see you that way. You threw a hissy fit when I tried to bring you back to your room,” she said. “You’re kind of a nightmare when you’re drunk.”
“Yeah, that sounds like me. I’m sorry,” he replied sheepishly. “Also, why was I naked?”
Rainer rolled her eyes. “You absolutely insisted that you sleep better in the nude.”
“Well...I do.”
“But on someone else’s bed?!” Rainer asked, feigning appalment but grinning widely. “You are impossible. Now, hurry up and eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold, and I only have so many spell slots.”
