“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”

A cooing halloo broke the night’s silence, a twinkling whistle climbing across the horizon with a near, impassioned flutter of feathered wings. The slow, sensual ebb and flow of a close tide heaved through the air. A huff of hot air suddenly broke across the sensitive soles of the pale feet poking out from underneath the sheets and heavy duvet of the bed. The feet darted underneath, the little form underneath the covers shrinking and turning suddenly, cocooning itself further into the winding, clinging softness the bed so eagerly provided. A whine sounded from beside the piece of furniture, by the footboard. The involuntary rap of nails against the floorboards slid through the room and then silence, briefly, before the sheets crinkled and the mattress gave a twang as four paws landed on top. Cool, wet nose met hot, dry material and for a few moments, there was only the sound of the snuffling dog in the room, accompanied by the birdsong cacophony flirting in through the thin linen curtains drawn over the white, sash windows that had been cracked to relieve the room of its stuffiness. The nose made its way up the small mountain of stark, white covers before breaking over soft, pink skin and curly yellow hair. He bounced a little at his discovery, the said owner of this nose and tapping nails, and his collar pendant jingled, but it did not wake her. He turned his head to the side and his little face scrunched into a frown before leaning forward, his lips parting over his teeth, the teeth clipping open to reveal a large, pink tongue which leapt out and licked the slumbering blonde woman from her chin to her forehead, shocking her into wakefulness.

In her fright, Alice Rousseau rolled over, tightening the cocoon’s hold on her and sending the dog sprawling across the bed in his effort to get away. She pushed herself up as best as possible, rolling back and forth for a few moments to free her arms, and then, once she’d threw off some of the clothing material she thrust her hair from her eyes and set those bright, azure orbs down on the dog that had been so eager to wake her. However, once her eyes kicked into life, so too did the headache that she knew would linger for the whole day as a painful reminder not to ever drink again. She rubbed her forehead, her palm sliding over her hairline, her fingers combing out some of the knots that had formed there, and watched as the dog, having seemingly worked her out, bounced up onto his feet again and jumped forward for another lick, this time getting her neck. He paused when he landed and his wiggling nose leaned forward, sniffing at the t-shirt that Alice did not recall ever changing into, or owning if the gaping throat and arms was any indication at all. The dog looked up as she studied the top and he grinned his canine grin before catching hold of the hem of the top with his teeth, not pulling directly at the material to score it but tugging all the same, encouraging her out of the bed that she was quite content to languish in all day

“No, puppy…” Alice protested, laying back against the pillows. “Who do you even belong to?” She reached out and caught hold of his little medallion attached to his collar.

“So you’re Eric are you?” She inquired after reading it, getting a lick for her troubles.

“Well I’m Alice,” she held out her hand and in her palm he immediately placed his paw, allowing her to shake it.

“Sorry I scared you,” she apologised after a moment, another lick and an accompanying yip, of what she supposed was forgiveness, following.

However, Eric wasn’t quick to forget what he wanted. He pulled at her top again before running to the end of the bed and hopping without giving pause. Upon landing, he slid and tumbled rather gracelessly into the door but it seemed to have the desired effect because despite the striking nausea, Alice got up out of bed immediately to attend to him – but, as she suspected, he was perfectly fine, bouncing up onto his feet again as though nothing had happened. Alice sighed and scratched him lightly between the ears before bringing her other hand to the door handle.

As she lifted her eyes back up, straightening herself so she was stood up to her full, albeit miniscule height, something registered though and she looked down properly at herself. Alice looked down. That was not her shirt. Those were her legs. That was her pair of bright yellow pants. Her hands came to her chest. And there was no bra. The blonde turned abruptly, casting her eyes around the room in search of the said accompanying piece of underwear but found no evidence of it. Her shoes were by the bed, knocked over, she supposed, by Eric. Her dress was thrown over the back of a chair in the corner of the room and her purse was in the seat but there was no sign of either her jacket or her jewellery – though she supposed that had been put in her purse – or, most important of all for peace of mind’s sake: her bra.

“Oh, mon dieu.” She scowled, bringing her hand up to her forehead again before looking down at the dog. “Where am I, boy?” She asked pitifully, finding herself far too hung over to find the desire to deal with the exploration of that question. She wanted to go home but apparating while hung over was just as ill-advised as doing so while drunk – more so, depending on who you spoke to. So, all Alice could do was try and sober up and brighten up and, most importantly of all, figure out who had been so bold and so brazen as to, first, take her home and then undress and redress her. They wouldn’t live to tell the tale.

Handle twisted, the door was pushed open and the dog ran out, his nails tinkling across the floorboards as he hurried along the corridor. He bounced at the end, hopping around the light that streamed in through the liberally placed windows. He jumped, catching some dust between his teeth, and then landed again, fixing her with a look that spoke volumes but, most pointedly “come on, Alice.” The girl had no choice but to follow behind the bounding, excitable pooch and soon enough the pair were walking into a living room where, sure enough, she found her jacket folded over the sofa with a flash of yellow pointing out of the pocket. She flushed, feeling the heat wind up from her belly into her neck and she shook herself, turning a little, banking around a bookshelf that boasted an array of volumes broken up by trinkets, most interestingly a ship in a bottle.

“Hey, you – did you get our sleeping beauty out of bed?”

Alice froze at the sound of an unfamiliar, gravelly voice. She trod back, falling around the corner into the corridor once more, and listened, closing her eyes as she heard the dog hurrying back, his medallion tinkling against the buckle of his collar. Opening one eye, she seized up, her shoulders rising up under her ears as she met the gaze of the man stood before her, studiously trying to avoid gaping at the criss-crossing scars across his chest peeking out of the top of the loose vest he wore with a low-slung pair of pale blue pyjama bottoms. A winding, tendril-like pink scar poked out along with the others that were carved about the hollow of his neck but this one, unlike the others, interrupted the path of the dark chest hair, lashing through it like fire through a field. Struck dumb, Alice could not find words within herself, realising she was staring, a fact made all the more plain when he folded his strong arms over the said chest, inadvertently pulling down the vest and making clear what Alice realised with a start had to be the left over evidence of metal once having pierced his skin with intent to kill. Why?

“Wrong sleeping beauty,” came a murmur from the man, finally, crouching a little to pat Eric on the head but not forfeiting the eye contact that Alice forced herself to maintain. “But good job, kid.”

“Where am I?” Alice chipped shrilly, flinching a little at the sound of her own voice which was rough and scratchy from the shots.

“Casa de Connolly,” the man’s lips pulled off from each other, revealing stark, sharp white teeth that, for a moment made him look almost feral. “I expect you’ll want breakfast,” he added. “Though it’ll cost you, darlin’.”

Alice’s eyebrows twitched together. “I, uh… I don’t have any money with me…”

The man chuckled and shook his head, nudging the dog with his calf before moving off towards the kitchen, though not before throwing over his shoulder:

“I was joking, Princess. Nice knickers, by the way.”

Alice covered her face with her hands, utter shame flooding her once more as she questioned not for the first time that morning why on earth she had agreed to go to the dinner in the first place. Running her hands through the front of her hair, she wondered if she’d be allowed to slip out unnoticed. That said, she didn’t know where in Merlin’s name she was. Who in hell that man was and the only thing she could be sure of was that the dog was called Eric. The reappearance of the man, broke her thoughts entirely. He now had a red and white tea towel thrown over his shoulder, a fish slice in hand and two quirked eyebrows.

“Breakfast, love. Aren’t you coming?” He pressed. “Come on. We do bed and board here. It’s very amenable.”

Eric slid between her legs his tail banging against them as he passed and then took off, running through into the kitchen once more. The man held out a hand and Alice swallowed, sliding her smaller one into his palm. His grip tightened and suddenly she was pulled off, something like a ragdoll, into a bright, airy kitchen that looked as  though it had been only recently painted from the way the light seemed to bounce so eagerly off of it. He released her once they were there and he hurried over to the stove where the smell of bacon was rapidly growing in the pan, only succeeding in making Alice’s stomach turn.

“What?” Came the brusque voice once more. “It’s streaky bacon.”

“Yeah,” Alice sighed gently. “I’m a vegetarian.”

A blank look crossed the man’s face, as though the idea was completely foreign to him, not to mention ridiculous.

“I don’t eat meat,” she clarified with a half-smile.

“Why does Oliver always have to bring home the weird ones?” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head and turning back to the stove.

“Excuse me?” Alice exclaimed, wincing as the sound split through her head. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m bloody serious,” he returned, decibel for decibel. “Now what do you want to eat, you bloody pain?”

“There’s no need to be so rude,” Alice huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’ll be as rude as you like. You’ve thrown my breakfast out of synch. Now what do you want to eat, darling pain in my shapely arse?” He glared.

“Should I just leave?” She snapped, inclining her head stroppily in utter disbelief.

“No, I’m cooking – don’t inconvenience me even more,” he returned, airily as though he was talking about the weather. “Come on, Princess … your ship is sailing quite quickly here.” He sang.

“Um. I don’t know…” Alice bit down on her lip, her fingers twisting at her rings as she looked at him.

“What do you want to eat?” The man stressed, turning, his hands falling to his hips.

“Why do you want to cook for me?” She returned.

“Ah-hah! The crux of the matter!” He exclaimed, flicking the kettle on. “I’m cooking for you because my only friend in the whole world brought you home last night, the pair of you off of your faces and I put you both to bed and now I get the pleasure of winding you up all day because you won’t be able to apparate home until lunchtime and gone and he won’t be able to function so to mitigate your day and give me something to do, I’m cooking for you.”

Alice blinked, gob-smacked.

“So what do you want to eat, darlin’?” He asked finally.

“Who are you?” She murmured.

“That’s not food!” He sang, pulling out three cups and throwing teabags into them. “Sugar?”

“Uh, no.” Alice shook her head, her hands absent mindedly pulling down the t-shirt. “Who are you, again?”

“Ariel. You’re Alice. Pleased to meet you.” He shook his hand in the air, mimicking a handshake and smirked over his shoulder at her.

“Great, yeah,” Alice scoffed glibly. “Fabulous to meet such a charming man such as yourself.”

“Nah,” Ariel grunted as he lifted the kettle up to pour out the boiling water. “Your boyfriend’s got all the charm. I’ve got the good looks, though.”

Alice’s eyebrows knitted together and she started, offended by the suggestion that Ariel was making. She stared at him as he moved from the side to the fridge, removing a glass bottle of milk and pouring a dash into each cup bore replacing it again, wiggling his own eyebrows at her briefly before going to retrieve the teabags from the cups.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Alice spluttered finally, causing Ariel to look round then down, at the dog sat beside her.

“He hears you, you know – and he does have feelings,” he pointed out, turning his head to the side in mock disapproval before a slow, languishing smirk spread across his features. “But we’re not talking about the dog, are we?”

“Oh…” Alice shook herself frustratedly. “Bugger off.”

Ariel barked out a laugh as he moved across the kitchen, pressing the cup of tea into her hands. She looked at the design on the side, taking in the sailing club logo on the side. She smiled gratefully at Ariel’s retreating back and clasped the cup in her hands, taking a long drink before moving her eyes back to him as he turned off the bacon, bread popped out of the toaster as toast and he carefully made up two bacon sandwiches, both filled with heavy dollops of brown and tomato sauce. He cut them up roughly with a serrated knife and then looked at the dog, chucking him a bit of fat off of the side of the bacon before clicking his fingers and gesturing out through the arch. Eric dutifully turned and scampered out of the room, no doubt in search of the other sleeping beauty Ariel spoke of.

“So, you met Ollie where then?” Ariel asked, putting Oliver’s cup of tea and plate down on the table. A warming spell was placed on both and he then went to the fridge, removing some eggs and setting about making what looked distinctly like poached eggs.

“Um, a friend’s… house warming thing,” Alice replied reluctantly, putting her cup down on the table as she took a seat.

“And you both got bladdered.” Ariel continued, asking leading questions that Alice had often had to contend with, deflect or, in many cases like this one, answer directly.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Alice nodded, her hands curling around the cup.

“But no sex, then,” Ariel asked bluntly.

“No!” Alice snapped in quick response, only earning a grin from the man as he fetched a punnet of tomatoes from the fridge along with what looked like some balsamic glaze and a head of lettuce. He waggled the glaze at her questioningly and Alice nodded briefly, watching him as he navigated the kitchen with practised, elegant ease.

“Strictly friends then?” Ariel continued, putting more bread in the toaster.

“Why am I getting the Spanish Inquisition here?” Alice grumbled, glaring at Ariel openly.

“I’m making small talk. I’m asking you did you shag him, you’re saying no. I’m saying strictly friends and you’ll say, what … I don’t even know him! Woe is me!” He threw his hand to his forehead dramatically and laughed.

“That’d be because I don’t,” Alice returned stubbornly, bringing the cup to her lips.  

“But if you did you’d shag him then,” Ariel snared her, catching her like a deer in headlights.

Breakfast demanded his attention, then and before Alice could really register her shock she had a plate of food placed in front of her – toast, poached egg and a small salad with tomatoes just shown the heat and the balsamic glaze drizzled overtop with a dash of herbs. Perfect, had it not come from a man who had talked her into an embarrassing corner. She couldn’t win either way, her rationale suggested helpfully – if she admitted she did, he’d tell Oliver, if she said she didn’t, he’d still tell him – regardless of what was true. Alice picked up the cutlery that had been slid across the table with her meal and she stabbed at one of the tomatoes, popping it into her mouth as she wondered what in Merlin’s name, indeed, had conspired to bring her here.

Of all days to sleep in, Oliver hated that it was this one. By the time Eric had nudged open his door and popped onto the bed, Ollie had not quite managed to wake. Instead, he was in the middle stages, somewhere between snoozing and being alert. He could hear sounds coming from the kitchen – two voices instead of one directed at the little yapper that had just made his way onto Oliver’s bed.

He took back what he had thought last night; the worst part of drinking was waking up the next morning. This was exactly why he never accepting drinks, even around his family. Then again, his mum’s side was insane and would drink themselves silly if allowed, so avoiding drinks was rather more difficult around the holidays. It was always near-impossible to keep away from them, and even more unlikely that he could manage to keep people from shoving drinks in Nora’s direction.

When a wet nose burrowed under Ollie’s blankets and ran along the man’s spine, Oliver arched away from the chill and let out a quiet hiss of disapproval. Eric shrank away only slightly before pawing at Oliver’s back until he groaned and rolled to face the dog in question. A paw tapped Ollie’s nose when he settled, hand reaching to curl a few fingers under the dog’s chin in greeting. “Mornin’, little boy.” He offered in place of a ‘hello,’ only to receive a bounce from Eric as he flopped down to be at Oliver’s eye level. Ollie just supposed he was lucky that he hadn’t any food about his room – Eric would definitely have found his way to it, and would’ve made a mess.

Eric’s tongue flopped out and Oliver realized exactly what had happened the night before. “Oh no…” He groaned, receiving a little whimper from Eric in return, as if the dog already knew the extent of their problems. “You’re too smart for your own good,” Ollie accused, sitting up and pushing the sheets back.

Eric, clearly pleased with his owner’s decision to leave his bed and do some damage control, bounded back onto the carpet and made his way into Oliver’s bathroom. The little thing had Ollie’s morning routine down, and waited patiently as the man went through the motions of teeth brushing and hanging into shorts that weren’t pajama bottoms. The next thing he knew, Eric was pushing at Oliver’s feet with his little nose, expecting him to leave the room dressed as he usually did in the mornings. He debated for about half a minute before deciding that he was more interested in getting something for his headache than he was in actually donning the shirt he had picked up before leaving his room.

He opened the door for Eric and followed the clatter of paws as the little puff ran down the hall before coming to a little halt after much scuffling about in order to stop. He didn’t even both waiting on Oliver before letting out an excited yap and almost-howl that Ollie usually interpreted as something to the extent of ‘hey!’

As Oliver himself turned into the kitchen, he stopped in surprise, not quite ready to see a blonde sitting there wearing his shirt. Right. He had brought her back. Rather, Ariel had brought the pair of them back. He could vaguely remember telling Ariel to get her something to wear as he led her down the hall into the spare. The other thing he could remember is standing there telling Ariel that he could get her to bed just fine, and no, not with him. After his roommate had gone to bed, Oliver was fairly certain that he had stood there to hold her up and keep anything too worrisome from occurring.

He closed his eyes briefly before stepping into the kitchen and finding the plate Ariel had apparently left him. A smile crossed his lips at his roommate's having thought of him. Shrugging his shirt on, he left the buttons open in favor of sitting and taking up his tea. Their conversation seemed to have just dwindled, leaving Alice looking rather unimpressed. Oliver passed Ariel a grateful look for his breakfast, but turned right back around and leaned back in his chair, arms folding over his chest.

“Lay off, mate. Don’t be a shit. She’s our guest.” Oliver’s words cut off as he lifted his drink to his lips. An eyebrow lifted as though he were daring his friend to retaliate, only glancing down when Eric sat next to his chair as seemingly joined Ollie’s side in the potential argument. A chuckle left his lips as he gave Eric what he actually wanted – a bit of his breakfast – and gave him a scratch under his collar, where the poor thing couldn’t reach.

Deciding to hang propriety a bit, Oliver turned his gaze on Alice, ignoring as best as he could that she was – firstly – wearing his shirt, and – secondly – apparently had failed to find herself any shorts or pants. Not even a skirt. He watched her longer than he probably should have before realizing what he was doing and sitting up a bit straighter and allowing his free arms to wrap across his torso again, the tea still lifted. “Sleep well, Alice?” He offered finally, blinking and half expecting her to snap at him in reaction.

“Oh, bloody finally. Do take your time, dear. We’ll all just sit around and wait for you to grace us with your presence.”

Despite herself, Alice couldn’t help but smirk a little bit at Ariel’s words but bent over her breakfast, pulling apart some of the toast with her fork, trying in vain to maintain a stoic expression. She blinked up, looking over at Ariel through her eyelashes as he turned, throwing the fish slice and frying pan into a hot sink of soapy water. A little bit ran over the side as the utensils displaced the water but the scruffy blonde man didn’t appear to care much, his hand extending out from the sink to turn on the radio. She smiled this time, one hand coming up to rub idly at her neck, her eyes scooting over into Oliver’s direction, only to catch sight of his chest as it disappeared behind the shirt. She inhaled shallowly through her nose, shifting awkwardly before shovelling a forkful of egg into her mouth.

Alice put her fork down for the moment and picked up her cup, washing down the mouthful she had with the still piping hot tea. She held onto it for a few moments, watching as Ariel turned, one half of his bacon sandwich in a soapy hand. He took a bite and looked at his friend oddly for a moments, seeming to consider his argumentative options, before scoffing as best as he could with full cheeks. Alice snorted, putting her cup down. She sat up, picking up both pieces of cutlery this time, and watched as Ariel pointed a soapy finger at Eric who gave an intuitive whine, tipping his head to the side, his ear twitching curiously. Ariel swept his arm through the air and shook his head, turning back around to the sink. He couldn’t win the argument, it seemed.

Lowering her gaze back to her food, Alice began to cut up the toast and egg, smiling to herself as the yolk danced down over the top of it. She stabbed a slice of tomato and popped it into her mouth with some of the lettuce before turning her head, her eyes falling involuntarily to Oliver’s chest. Alice swallowed deeply, wondering why someone would be so cruel as to put Oliver there and totally off limits. She felt her cheeks warm a little again and she lifted her lips weakly, tipping her head from side to side as she tried to work out what she was going to say. Her left hand released the knife and she brought her hand up to her forehead, laughing wearily a little before looking over at Oliver.

“Like a bear with a sore head,” she told him wryly, “Uh, well… an iddy-biddy bear. But, yeah… I mean, well.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled a little before amending herself, emphasising her point by an excessive wave of her fork accompanying her words. “The bed was great but I really don’t think I slept. More passed out than slept and then kind of … I dunno, got a wakeup call.” She glanced down at Eric who managed to look innocent – somehow. “So, yeah.” She finished lamely, returning her gaze to the plate.

“Believe me,” Ariel chimed in. “There were some serious alchy-snores coming from the pair of you. Eric and I thought we were going to die.” Eric yipped. “Oh, alright. Shut up you. It wasn’t too terrible. Pretty bad, though.”

Alice flushed, exhaling tempestuously before bringing her fork back to her lips. After chewing and swallowing she took another sip of the tea and turned her gaze back to Oliver.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” she confided sincerely. “Oh, and for the top. You didn’t have to let me stay but you did so, really, thank you. I’ll try and get out of your hair as soon as possible. Um, and I can wash this, if you like.”

“That would mean you get to come back,” Ariel interjected as he wiped a tea towel around the frying pan. “Smooth, girl.”

Alice opened her mouth to protest but a pointed look from the blonde man stifled her words. She shook her head, finding no further response, focusing back instead on her breakfast which, much to her dismay, was actually very lovely. It was a shame the man that made it was such an arse.

“Right, darlings,” Ariel announced, throwing down the pans, the towel replacing the things by picking up his sandwich and cup of tea. “I’m going to go and plot world domination and spy on the neighbours. You two can tread eggshells around one another. I’m sure you can have a long, nice chat about who undressed you, Princess.”

With that, Ariel excused himself and Alice watched him go, a mix of utter fascination and disbelief painted across her face. The sound of one of the bedroom doors shutting reverberated through the flat and she smudged her lips together, fixing Ollie with a half-curious, half-hesitant look.

“Does he … always … like, is he always like that…?” She asked after a sip of tea. “Or am I just being sensitive? How did you sleep by the way and, uh, who did … erm.” She glanced down at the shirt, pulling it a little with her spare hand.

Smooth, girl. Smooth.

“Ariel, I don’t just speak to hear myself talk. I was quite serious. Hush.” Oliver chided, though he hardly meant it. Their banter rarely was seen as serious by others, and almost never taken seriously by the pair of them. Hopefully Alice understood the sarcasm that rested behind their comments. When Ariel dropped the argument, Oliver smirked but made no comment.

He wasn’t entirely sure, as he turned to focus on his breakfast, but he was almost sure he could feel Alice’s eyes following his movements. He didn’t dare glance up and potentially catch her at it, though, for fear of creating more awkwardness than there already was. “Oh,” Oliver started at her words, realizing he hadn’t had anything for his headache either; he had been too focused on Alice wearing that and Ariel’s comments. Standing, he moved to walk over to the cabinet as she and Ariel continued on. “You know full well, mate, that I do not snore. If I did, blame the drink.”

Frowning slightly, he pulled open one of the cabinets and picked up two glasses. Shifting to his right slightly, he opened one of the upper doors and took down a potion from his general medicine area. No, he didn’t keep them in the bathroom; who would use up the space in that way when he had so very many cabinets in the kitchen? She tipped the potion, pouring a good bit into each glass before turning ‘round and nodding at Alice in return. Ariel, now next to Oliver, couldn’t quite keep his mouth shut. “Ignore him. Really. And here, take this,” he added, extending a glass towards her, “It’ll fix up the headache right quick.”

“If you’re determined to wear it home, wash it all you like. Otherwise your dress should be around here somewhere and I can just watch it myself.” Shrugging, he knocked back the potion and set his glass in the sink.

As Ariel made to leave the room, Oliver leaned against the counter top and faced the bar where Alice sat. “Try not to get caught this time, love. Neighbors typically don’t like that.” He called, grinning at his friend as he went. It took a few moments for the door to shut, but the moment it did, Eric took off down the hall as if he had only just realized that Ariel was gone. Oliver had a feeling the dog would sit there for a while before eventually returning to the kitchen to hope for bits of Ollie’s food.

Alice’s words caught his attention again, pulling it away from the hallway and straight back to her. His dark eyes searched hers – or tried to, considering she kept looking down at the shirt she’d ended up wearing. He could feel himself tense just looking at it; in what world was it fair for her to be a near-perfect stranger but still manage to make him lose his train of thought when she wore his clothes? The answer: It wasn’t. At all. His jaw clenched briefly as she spoke, arms crossing over his chest again in an attempted show at being relaxed. Oliver wasn’t quite sure it worked, though.

“He’s not all that bad. Just has wit and loves to use it – especially on those that don’t expect it, I guess. I mean, I grew up with him so I just give it right back to him. You’d probably be able to get away with it,” he added with a smile, tilting his head to the side as though he were sizing her up as competition for Ariel. “Regarding last night… Well, surprisingly, you did a good bit of it yourself.” Running a through his hair and over the back of his neck, Oliver let his free hand fall to rest against the countertop. “Um, Ariel wasn’t there if that’s what you’re asking. I made him go. I was really only there to make sure you didn’t, y’know, fall over or anything. Um, I guess I should actually apologize; if I hadn’t been drunk as well I don’t think I would’ve- Well, that’s not true. I wouldn’t have left you to it alone if I were sober but you weren’t. I guess I’m just sorry it had to happen.”

His hands gripped the counter’s edge for a moment before he looked away from her and moved back to his spot at the table. “Really, though, you can stay as long as you want to. I had plans, technically, but they were just for me and Eric on the boat, so.” Oliver shrugged, but then was pulled into laughing as the dog in question came bounding in upon hearing his name. “I can go any time, though. So it matters not.”

Sobriety had never been a problematic thing to maintain for Alice Rousseau. Years in the south of France sipping at white wines in the middle of an intolerably warm afternoon had built two things within her: a small, burning hatred or wine and an intolerance to drunkenness. It seemed as though the night prior to this rather bright morning had sufficed to break all of those truths and for the first time in a very long time she found herself swallowing back the tart taste of lime green sobering-up potion, revelling in the feeling of her mind unfogging and just generally replacing the nausea with a neutrality that was as close as possible to normal without having had a shower and the chance to rub away all of the night’s intrigue from her skin ready for the following week’s work schedule. It’d do. Plus, breakfast helped.

“Thank you,” Alice murmured sincerely, smiling a little before setting the glass down. She picked up her fork again, ducking her head towards her food, hiding the scarlet tinge that had formed on her cheeks. She waited for it to go by shovelling more food into her mouth, the chewing and swallowing mechanism enough to keep her from talking much more for a few moments, at least until the colour abated. She put her fork down, reaching for her cup and, pressing her knuckles against her cheek, she was grateful to find that the heat had left her cheeks. She took a sip, curling her hands around the mug as she sat back in the chair, her feet lifting to rest on the rung underneath the chair beside her.

Hearing that she managed to avoid flashing herself all over the place despite her state, Alice felt some of the tension leave her shoulders and she relaxed. Bringing her cup to her lips she took another long sip of the tea and smiled a little around it as the dog bounded into the kitchen once more, yipping around his master’s legs. Alice set her cup down, her fingers toying absently with the hem of the top and she slid off of the stool. She knelt down extending her hand to Eric who eagerly came to her, licking at her fingers brightly.

“Hello you,” Alice cooed, scratching her fingers between his ears. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” She sat down, resting back on her legs and lifted him up, into her arms, cuddling him close and popping a kiss to his head. “Yes, you’re a pretty one aren’t you? Oh, no, handsome,” she amended as Eric fixed her with what looked like a puppy dog glare. “The most handsome puppy in the whole wide world. Yep, that’s you alright.”

Eric raised a lick to her cheek before hopping down onto the floor again, rushing back to Ollie and winding around his legs. She smiled, getting back up onto her feet properly, reaching across the island for her cup, ignoring the way a sudden bout of cool air licked absently at the back of her legs where the top began to ride up. She pulled it down again once she was stood properly and took another sip of her tea before looking at Ollie.

“Thanks though,” she said finally, “I mean, for making sure I didn’t end up somewhere mad. Really – thank you.” She smiled brightly at him before bringing her cup to her lips. She watched Eric some more, the dog bouncing happily about before sitting himself down, his tail batting at the floor, betraying his excitement. She smiled again, unable to quite stop herself, and she looked up, voicing what she’d been wondering for a few moments.

“Where were you going to go?” She asked. “On the boat I mean.”

There was a part of Alice that really did want to go. In fact, she wanted to impress herself upon Ollie desperately for a chance to see the English waters a little closure. However, there were pressing matters in the back of her head that included trying to get hold of a storage company that would take her furniture away. The last thing she wanted to do now was move but it was an inevitability with her inability to play the full tariff weighing her down. No, she was leaving. But where she was going she had no clue.

“I have so much stuff to do today, my lord,” Alice sighed heavily, her eyes narrowing at the clock on the wall. “Do you know a storage company, at all? Like, one that’ll keep furniture? Then maybe I could live out of it?” She laughed a little, picking a stray piece of thread off of the shirt before looking up at Ollie. “Do you think I could steal the shower?”

A stupid sort of half-smile worked its way onto Oliver’s face, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he took a bite of the breakfast Ariel had left him. He couldn’t put his finger on it precisely, but something about Alice chatting with his dog and wearing his shirt – it was a little too much to keep his expression neutral. For a breath, it was like Alice belonged in the flat properly, and it was just a normal weekend afternoon with plans of heading out on the boat and relaxing. Like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

Shaking his head briefly, Oliver had to remind himself that he was actually sounding insane. He was just grateful he hadn’t said anything stupid out loud. Alice looked up as he re-directed his gaze towards her, and Oliver found himself thankful for the fact that he was not one to appear embarrassed, regardless of the fact that he often was. Blaming all of his obscure and unhelpful thoughts on having been utterly sloshed, Oliver just nodded in return for Alice’s thanks.

Never having been the sort to be able to accept appreciation or praise, Oliver couldn’t find a way to manage a reply to anything except the question about his travels for the day. That was a simple question, with an even more simplistic answer. “Honestly? Not a clue. Just wherever I feel like going. It’s kind of liberating, actually.”

Shrugging, Oliver glanced down at Eric were he had laid himself atop both of the man’s feet, as if staking some kind of claim over Oliver. The dog hardly had need to, though, when the only person outside of his family that had ever been invited on his boat was Ariel, and the only… pet that had been brought along was undoubtedly Eric.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise as she spoke again, before they drew together in confusion. “You’ve not got anywhere…?” He asked slowly, turning over the concept in his mind. It wasn’t one that he was able to qualify or put into some semblance of sensible, rational thought processes. A glance down the hall towards Ariel’s room immediately told Oliver where his opinion lay. What would come out of his mouth before speaking to his roommate.

Alice asked after the shower, but instead of answering, he set down his fork and gave her a once-over. “You know, we have that spare room… You could stay if you wanted. Use a shower that’s basically yours instead of having to ask. Wouldn’t have to borrow clothes, either. Up to you, though. Ariel can deal with it if he’s grumpy; he’s not always the most… well, friendly. But then, we can’t all be lovely all the time.”

It’s kind of liberating, actually.

Alice swallowed, her throat constricting tightly as his words resonated deeply within her. At once, behind the blink of her large, bright eyes, she was placed back on the swaying bow of her father’s boat. She was little again, unsteady on her feet that had always been in a romance with the land as opposed to the sea. She could remember the loud, clear, deep laughter of the man whom she was ever grateful to as she fell once more, unable to keep her balance for even the barest of moments. Hands would curl underneath her arms and set her back to rights and he’d hold her, teach her to move with it, to become part of the vessel as though it was a mere extension of her own feet, nothing more. He’d always seen happier then. He’d always been more of himself then, and so had she. They had been liberated. She had never felt more contained than she did in her job now. She just hadn’t realised it before.

Ollie’s question snapped Alice out of her reverie and she brought her cup down away from her mouth. She set it down on the side, her pale blonde eyebrows rising a little on her forehead. Reflexively, she thought that Ollie had no idea what he was saying. He was a stranger and so was she. Yet, here he was, a stranger, offering a home to her. She opened her mouth, her lips parting effortlessly, curling a little at the sides into an incredulous smile. She brought her hand up, wiping her smile away as she considered the offer. She hadn’t lived with anyone since she’d been at school and while it hadn’t been that long ago, she wasn’t entirely sure if he meant what he had said, or whether he was just acting on the spur, his words speaking for him a little too freely, not thinking sensibly. Yet, she needed a home – something she’d be without sooner rather than later.

“I…” Alice’s smile return. “Really?”

She bobbed a little, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and looked about herself, embarrassment rising scarlet on her cheeks. She bit her lower lip briefly between her teeth. Then she hopped forward, throwing her arms around Ollie’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“Merci beaucoup,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You are too kind to me.”

Alice dropped herself back down onto her feet, untwining her arms from Ollie, briefly smudging her thumb across his cheek, a little slither of whatever lipstick had remained on her mouth having attached itself to his skin. She smiled ruefully and stepped back, tucking her arms around herself briefly before looking around, marvelling at the fact that the flat would be partly hers, also. Only, she wondered what her contribution could be. What concerned her was that she wasn’t very domestic. She was flyaway and was often forgetful about such things having spent most of her time in London to and forth from the dry cleaners. That wouldn’t quite be the case at a flat with other people where she’d have to pull her own weight. She nibbled on her lip again.

“What can I do to help, though?” She asked. “I cannot think and I could not stay if I cannot help you in any way. Especially given as you have been so nice to me, Ollie.”

She had a home. A room that was most assuredly her own. It was enough. It was more than enough. She’d never felt more grateful.

"I don't see why not," Oliver shrugged, knowing full well that there were a number of reasons he should take back his offer. But it was Alice, and she didn't seem to be a problem. She seemed down on her luck and far too interesting to avoid spending time with. There was something in her that made him want to ask questions. Want to know her story as all authors crave of those around them, as Oliver had found.

As her arms wrapped around him, Oliver's reached out to curl across her back. He sucked in a breath when it registered that his fingers were not pressing into the shirt she had borrowed, but against her spine instead. And it hit him once more that Alice was wearing little else, making him stare at her when she dropped a kiss to his cheek and pulled away to brush the skin there.

When asked what she could do to help, Oliver couldn't quite find anything to request. "I'm not... I'm not sure. I don't doubt that over time we'll even things out, though. Things always do, it seems."

Standing, he moved his now-empty plate and glass to the sink, turning the water to fill the bucket and soak the utensils. Eric, realizing he wasn't set to get any scraps - and really, Oliver tried not to give him any for the sake of keeping him healthy - trotted off to the living room and settled in his chair. It was one that had been used by Oliver until the seat cushion ripped, and had later been set in the corner farthest from the hall, left for the dog to use as he found it necessary.

Oliver smiled after Eric, then turned to look at Alice again. "You wanted the shower, yeah? Or did you want to get back to yours and pack things up and head back here? I could help you move stuff if you want."

Shrugging off his shirt, he set it to the side, then delved his arms elbow-deep into the now-full sink and started after the silverware at the bottom, awaiting her answer.

The generosity of Oliver Connolly was really giving buoyance to the sinking ship that was Alice Rousseau. She had been convinced that her time in Britain was up, the last few grains of sand in her hourglass trickling through. She knew that without a home she’d have to be recalled back to Paris, if not Avignon itself and then she’d have to go through all of the trials and tribulations of trying to get posted elsewhere and knowing her luck as of late it would probably be Moscow – and, if it wasn’t already clear, this woman is sunshine and rainbows, not fur hats and snow.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, her eyes lighting up brilliantly. “Well, what would really be a help is unpacking, actually. Packing isn’t so much of a nightmare as what you’ve got to do after.”

Alice finished her tea and hopped over to Oliver, stalling a little upon one leg as he slid off his shirt. She caught her lip between her teeth, buttoning away an unreasonable sound that had threatened to bubble through her. She lifted her gaze hesitantly over his back, over the soft swathes of sun-kissed skin and she swallowed, hard. Moving forward, trying to keep the unsteady breathing through her nose somewhat regular, she slid the cup into the foamy water, noting the way his arms moved so easily, scrubbing at the plates and in doing so created this wild flexing of the muscles there. She let a breathless smile go, determined to look at his face.

“I’ll wipe up,” she promised shakily, averting her gaze, desperately wishing he’d put something – anything – on because she didn’t know if he was unimaginably sexy or whether she’d gone too long without … whatever it was, he was distracting and as much as she loved it she hated it, too. “I’ll be back in… an hour, maybe. I can get the stuff here, at least. I’d love it if we could help ascertain sort of … what can stay and what needs to go, uh, in storage I guess. Furniture… wise, more than anything else. Right, uh, yeah.”

And with that, she left one lingering smile before scuttling away. Once she found her wand out of her bag she apparated and bounced home into her living room, the cat from next door that often climbed in through her window to visit shooting off of the sofa at her entrance. Alice dropped herself down into her arm chair and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes, peering around her home, wondering how she was going to boil her life down to a handful of boxes. In the middle of this happening, however, Ariel stepped back into the kitchen with the dog on his heels.

“I will tell you this once,” he said, the paragon of seriousness as he dropped Alice’s plate into the bowl. “Whilst having a fantastic pair of legs, a neat little arse and possessing a certain bizarre sex appeal in running around in yellow knickers and your top is a valid set of reasons for inviting someone to live with us, she’s the emotional type. So, please, for the sake of me and the dog, don’t break up the family by pursuing her and mucking it up, mate. If you’re going to take the legs and the arse and have it with all of the trappings you deserve, make it stick. So, I’m going to return to my crossword, let you lie to my face that ‘I’m just being friendly, arsehole’ and tonight I’ll cook some piece of veggie crap for her and we’ll go along nicely but just don’t do something ridiculous. I couldn’t stand the pain.”

Then, Ari did slope off and deal with the crossword and at some point throughout Alice’s rushing wand trickery, stuffing her life into boxes, he took Eric out for his second walk of the day – more to think himself than really indulge the dog. It was nearly the afternoon by the time Alice got everything ready and had showered away the night’s alcohol from her skin. Once she got out she donned a new dress, twisted her hair up into a pony tail and then slipped her feet into her shoes. Once that was done she flicked her wand, shrank her boxes and put them into her pocket before dropping the keys into an envelope to leave for her landlord.

With a crack, Alice was back in the front room where she’d left. She knelt down to remove her shoes once more and hurried over to the door to put them with the others. Then she moved into the spare room – her room now, she guessed – and put her boxes on the floor. With a flick of her wand they were the right size again and suddenly the room was full to bursting with Alice surrounded behind precarious towers of cardboard and goodness only knows what. In her haste she hadn’t the sense to write on the sides which was which, making her assessment of unpacking far more accurate than it ever would have and should have been.

“Uh,” Alice looked about herself. “Ollie?” She called out.

The door slammed shut and the sound of Eric’s yip caught her eye. Then, a low, slow chuckle met her ear as Ariel moved into the doorway – or, towards it for the boxes covered it. Eventually, his laugh grew more disbelieving and louder before calling out for Ollie himself.

“You need to see this, mate.” He exclaimed. “You alright Alice?”

“Fine,” she huffed, throwing her arms across her chest. “I mean, it could be worse.”

Ari couldn’t think how.

Oliver stared after Ariel but said nothing as he finished the dishes, secretly pleased that they were leaving for a walk, he and Eric. The moment the door closed, Oliver let out a gust of breath, leaning forward over the sink and gripping the edge with his hands. His eyes fell shut as he sighed, registering what he had just gotten himself into. Unsure whether or not he had just made life hell, or if he had just won big time, Oliver huffed and shut the water off to let it drain.

Picking up his abandoned shirt, he moved into his bedroom, and left it on the bed. A bit of pacing later, Oliver found himself plopping down into his desk chair and pulling out a new journal and settling in to get down his frustration in the form a new plot and character ideas page. Eventually, though, he gave up the pretense and just started writing out the first chapter, brow furrowed in effort. By the time his name was called, Oliver had several crumpled pages on the floor around his chair, and upwards of twenty pages filled out with scratched out words and edits on the sides. He wasn't even sure where it was going, but it was just one of the sort that begged to be given a chance.

Taking up his last page as Ariel shouted to him again, Oliver lifted a hand to run through his hair several times as he walked into the living room. His eyes blazed over his last paragraph several times before he stepped in and looked up, his lips parting in surprise and the page falling to the floor. His hand came down from his hair as well, resting at his side in defeat. Well, he had promised, and should have known it would be like this.

Bending down, he took up the page once more, folded it, and tucked it in the back pocket of his trousers. "You sure you need all this, love?" He asked, belatedly registering the endearment but ignoring it. "We could shrink some of it and put it up top in your closet or something. We probably have things you could use in place. Then you wouldn't have to get rid of anything, really. Unless you wanted to..."

Eric jumped onto the couch after Oliver sank into the cushions, pawing at his chest. The Hufflepuff pushed the claws away, letting the dog settle on his legs instead. Taking a moment, Oliver let his eyes take in the Alice he had met the night before: properly dressed, less embarrassed - though, admittedly, not by much - and as pretty as ever. Pulling his eyes from her face to the boxes around her, he tried to fathom where they would start.

"Right. Ariel, you get that stack," he gestured to the tower behind her, "Alice, you can go for the ones closest to your room, and I'll do that one," Oliver finished, pointing at the farthest group from her hallway. It made him slightly wary that she was sleeping in the same hall as Ariel, instead of himself, but he couldn't place exactly why.