Burning Heart // CL16

Seventy Eight

Smut warning... sort of?
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Alessia's POV

"Ow, ow, ow... my head," I mutter, cringing away from the sun light bleeding in from the curtains, I turn over in an attempt to look for darkness, achieving that as well as finding warmth as I nestle into it with a content sigh. I'm in desperate search of something soothing for my head, screwing my eyes shut and I'm lucky that there's warmth that I can move towards, enjoying the steady heartbeat beneath my fingers which served as a distraction from the pounding in my head.

Wait... heartbeat?

I sit up too fast, feeling the pain double as I blink rapidly to try and stop the room from spinning before I look down, seeing a topless Charles looking at me in surprise, eyes shifted from the notebook he was flicking through in one hand, the other resting on my hip. I clutch at the bedsheets, quickly realising that I'm wearing nothing underneath as the memories of the night come flooding back, watching as Charles closes the book as he sits up, apprehension on his face as he waits for a more concrete reaction.

"Water?" Charles offers and I just nod, still trying to process the thoughts of the night, remembering the food and the club but struggling through the memories of the taxi and afterwards, the headache develops into the sensation of my head being cut open by an axe as the memories flood in.

He passes me the glass from the side, sitting up as he does so also handing me a pain killer. I just watch him, noticing how he seems in a similar state of undress as me, tentatively double checking that I'm right about the fact that I'm naked just to reveal that I'm totally right.

"We didn't do anything," he lets me know and I just knock back the painkiller and turn around, resting against the headboard next to him, sheets around my chest while he lets his lay around his waist still. "Well... nothing that we hadn't already done before going out," he says with a smirk, eyes back on his notebook that he opens once more, ignoring as I glare at him, moving one hand to my head as I massage it lightly.

That ruled out absolutely nothing.

"Not funny Leclerc," I mutter before downing the glass of water as I look around the room for something to put on. When I spot one of his black dress shirts shirt on the floor, I quickly jump out of bed and pick it up slipping it around my shoulders as I look back at where Charles is relaxed in the bed, half watching me do it up as he pretends to read his book. "I wasn't so drunk that I don't remember last night," I quip as I do up most of the buttons of the shirt, cringing at the sight of my thong on the floor next to my dress from last night. I quickly pull my pants back on as though that will do anything to help me as I loop my fingers around the straps of the heels as I look back at Charles who seems relaxed, perhaps even amused. "We have got to stop doing this," I mutter to myself and to Charles, watching a negative emotion finally appear on his face at the words.

"Do we actually need to? Or are you just having your regularly scheduled freak out only to decide in an hour that actually - everything is okay? That it doesn't need to affect anything and in the process ruin what could be a perfectly relaxing morning otherwise?" He asks flatly and I look at him in surprise, my mouth opening and closing but no words come out. My head is entirely empty as he focuses on the book in his hands with a fantastic amount of focus, instead of me.

"Huh?"

Is all I can come up with, watching as he sighs and closes the notebook, sitting up a little straighter as he looks back at me, beckoning for me to go back to him as his jaw tenses and I can see him analysing the scene in front of him. I'd like to blame the hangover for the lack of willpower but really it's the hope that even though I don't deserve it, he'll put his hand on my head and take most of the pain away. I drop the shoes and the dress and take the slow steps back towards him.