bakerstreet | The Morning After the Night Before Meme

THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE MEME

It's been one of those nights. You went out, met some people, did some things, and in the cold light of day you aren't so sure that those 3:00 a.m. bright ideas were so bright after all. It's the morning after the night before. Where are you now?

HOW TO PLAY:

Respond with your character name and canon in the subject line. Include any caveats or clarifications you'd prefer in the comment box. You can leave an empty comment by simply putting < in the comment box.
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All prompt suggestions are just starting points and/or examples. Go with whatever idea sparks for you.
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PROMPTS:

This is not my beautiful spouse!
You got drunk and put a ring on it. How does that pan out? Happy ending or rush annulment?
Break stuff
You did some high-value property damage. Are you going to stick around and make good, or are you going to high tail it out of there?
Dude! Sweet!
You got a tattoo. Your partner in crime did too. Worst idea or best idea ever?
Dude, where's my...?
You lost it - your car, the heirloom engagement ring, state secrets. Whatever it is, you had it and now you don't.
One phone call
You swear you didn't mean to fall into the chocolate fountain at the McFancypants' wedding reception, and you really didn't mean to shake it off all over the bride's dress, and you really didn't mean to grab her there when you were just trying to help her clean off her bodice. You're in jail. Are you there alone or do you have a pal sitting next to you going, "Best. Night. Ever!"
Walk of...
You hooked up. Is this good, bad, awkward? Are you doing the walk of shame this morning or strutting it all the way home?
Viral infamy
Remember that thing you did last night? Okay, remember that thing you did last night that you don't remember? It's all over YouTube. How's that playing with the people who know you?
If the shoe fits...
Why did you wake up in someone else's clothes? Do you even want to know? Where are your clothes?
Text in haste, repent at leisure
Do you really want to look at your call and message logs from the night before?
Hair of the dog...
Why stop with last night when you can just keep rolling?
I don't remember, I don't recall...
You drank something, smoked something, took the red pill and the blue pill and you don't remember a thing you did. Mix and match any of the other prompts under this one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The first thought that drifts through the dark of Sif's consciousness is that she is going to kill Volstag. The mead was more potent than usual, and Sif's memory of the night before is a blur. A very satisfying, exhaustive blur, but a blur is nonetheless.

She's aware that she's laying down, and that the room is dark and cool. Which is good, since her head is throbbing. Reaching out to the side, her eyes crack wide open as she realizes there is another person in the bed with her.

Normally, Loki would take to avoid such victory spreads and keep to his own devices. But no, this time he had been foolish and decided to parttake, and now he was certainly paying the price. He had no memory of the night before, nothing beyond drinking himself into a stupor that he was certainly regretting now. What had possessed him to go for that second (and third ... and fourth ... and however many after) flagon anyway?

His head is pounding, and Loki isn't certain he's able to even move. His arms are clutched tightly around a pillow, as if clinging to it for dear life, and when he feels something nudge him he groans and rolls onto his side with it. Ugh, he isn't waking up for the next century if he has his way.

This honestly isn't the first time Sif has woken up in a man's bed. She's a grown woman and a tested warrior, and she's as free with herself - or not - as she chooses to be.

But this is certainly the first time she's woken up in a man's bed and not been able to remember who he is. And her head is pounding just enough to make her ill inclined to open her eyes just yet and find out.

Vague flashes of memory play out behind her eyelids, she knows she enjoyed herself. But with who?

Absently, she slides her hand further out, reaching for flesh, neither overly rough nor delicate, but trying to figure out who's next to her as she lefts of a soft groan.

Likewise, it was not the first time Loki had woken up in a bed not his own either. He greatly prefers his own, of course, but sometimes drunken judgement gets the better of him and he immediately regrets it. His body aches, his head is heavy, his stomach is turning, and something is trying to grab his face.

Frustrated, Loki swats at the hand seemingly trying to smother him in his sleep. He grumbles out, "oh, sod off," and rolls over onto his front to bury his face in the pillows.

The hand felt distinct. Not very feminine, but not very manly either. Which could only mean ...

Odin help me. Maybe if he tried to crawl out under the sheets, she won't notice and therefore won't hit him.

Sif freezes. That voice.

Lifting her head, she turns to see if she can confirm her suspicion.

"Oh, no." she murmurs, collapsing and burying her head into the pillow. "No, no, no."

Well, that at least confirmed she was awake. And worse, she knew who she was next to. Loki grumbles into the pillow, turning his head after muttering several curses so he could open his eyes, and look around. And he groans again. The motion was enough to hurt, but as he looks around, he realizes that this is not his room.

At least that meant he hadn't invited her to his room the previous night.

"Do try to refrain from hurling yourself out the nearest window at the sight of me, lady Sif," Loki mumbles, rubbing his temples. "When the room stops spinning, I shall take my leave, retreat to my chambers, and contemplate full memory wipes."

There's an indelicate snort.

"It would take more than you to have me hurling myself from the window like some tragically deflowered virgin maiden." she replies, her voice husky from sleep and too much wine.

Lifting herself up, it occurs to her that she's naked, which prompts her to drop back down on the bed, because really, Loki likely got enough of an eyeful last night. She sneaks a sidelong glance at him.

"That would imply you remember what happened." She's not saying if she does or not (oh, it's coming back to her).

Since her hands aren't wrapped around his throat, nor is there a blade pointing between his eyes, Loki considers this a good thing. He will live for at least a few more minutes, longer if he plans his escape carefully.

And by escape, he simply means to start crawling out of bed, facing away from her and seeing to his clothes. His tunic is lopsided ... backwards. With a sigh, he rearranges it to fit properly, scanning the room for his boots so he can get as far away from here while his head remains on his shoulders.

"I remember as much as you do," he responded coldly, a hand rubbing his temples as he sits up. "I merely have enough wits about me to gather the pieces and put together what is likely the correct explanation of recent events."

Oh, this ought to be rich.

With an arched brow, she flip onto her stomach, crossing her arms in front of her less because she's body-shy and more for comfort's sake.

"Alright. What do you think is the correct explanation of what happened?"

Oh, this ought to be nauseating.

"I never knew you to be so dreadfully slow witted," Loki answered, mirroring her folded arms, and arching a brow. It isn't anything he hadn't seen before, though he'd made a point of at least covering himself with his cloak. She might be shameless, Loki prefered to hang on to what remained of his dignity.

"But if the concept is simply too difficult for you to grasp, perhaps I should go find you a book."

There's no point. Sif regards him levelly. "Why don't you just go?" she suggests without so much as a change in her expression.

"As you wish," Loki answers with a shrug. He'd much prefer to be in his own chambers anyway. So once he finishes dressing, and smoothing his ruffled hair back, he turns to leave.

But before exiting the door completely, he turns over his shoulder and retorts one last time. "By the way, you were less than satisfactory."

"The mark on your neck suggests otherwise." she replies, unruffled.

Edited 2012-11-30 05:41 (UTC)

The Morning After the Night Before Meme

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