Chapter Text
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Did she mention shit?
Not many actual thoughts make their way into her head when she wakes up. At first, she’s almost grateful for the warm body nuzzled into her neck and the arm holding her as close to him as possible. What? It’s nice to be held. She would like a very heavy emphasis on at first here.
Then, so many memories from the night before of bodies pushing closer and closer together on the conference room table, of the faintest taste of chewing gum and coffee lingering in her mouth and of them stumbling into her apartment (a vague memory of a poster shattering that she willfully ignored), of a softness and hesitancy that she would never again associate with Leif and then of watching Leif fall apart underneath her and then on top of her rush back into her brain like a freight train, pushing up panic into her throat.
How did they get here?
She doesn’t even have alcohol to blame, she knows that. All she has is his dumb smirk and the challenge in his eye and every single opportunity she had to think ‘this is a bad idea’ and back out. She should have. She knows she should have backed out and then she wouldn’t be here, with him asleep in her bed and horror pooling in her stomach, but his lips tasted deceptively good against hers and when his hands roamed her body she felt her brain turn to mush. Maybe it’s not Leif that felt so good, she justifies internally, but just being with someone. Sure, that makes sense.
Just when she’s starting to calm down, the panic surges back into her chest when she feels him shift on top of her, before settling when he just groans softly and adjusts where his arm is resting.
He’s still asleep. He’s still asleep and she has time to think. This is confirmed by him nuzzling further into her neck and pulling her somehow even closer to him and not jumping back from her immediately, because if he was awake, he surely wouldn’t want to continue being this close to her. Leif Donnelly and Zoey Clarke are not supposed to be near each other like this or falling asleep practically on top of each other after having (admittedly very good) sex. That is just not a universe she exists in.
And yet. Here she is, Leif Donnelly snuggling into her neck and breathing softly, possibly the most peaceful she’s ever seen him. She doesn’t hate it, which she thinks is worse than being in the situation in the first place.
No. No, no, no. She does hate it, because she doesn’t like or respect anything about Leif. Not his stupidly good work ethic or his stupidly styled hair or his utter disrespect for actual authority, especially in the feminine form. He’s not more than that. He can’t be more than that because that would mean she’d have to rethink her perception of him and honestly? She’s not gonna do that.
This was a casual fuck to relieve tension that had been building for way too long. That’s it. And she’s sure he’s on the same page. She just… has to make sure.
“Leif,” She whispers, half wanting him not to wake up so that she doesn’t have to deal with the inevitably uncomfortable conversation that’s gonna follow. The other half of her just wants the conversation to be over with so the panic in her chest where Leif rests will go away. “Hey, Leif.”
With a shake of his shoulder, he jolts awake with a, quite frankly adorable (and she’s not gonna confront that thought), sleepy ‘wh-’. After several blinks of his eyes and a palm pressed into one of them, accompanied by a groan and rolling off of her and onto his back, he finally looks over at her and seems to start processing.
“Zoey.”
“Leif.”
He looks… She’s not actually sure how he looks. She wants to say he looks surprised or shocked, but he looks more… tired than anything else, despite the gears she can practically see turning in his head.
“So, we…” He trails off, letting a heavy swallow punctuate what he very clearly doesn’t wanna say.
“Uh-huh,” She responds, pushing the panic that is still very much present down in favor of staring at the ceiling.
“Was it…” Oh, god. Leif, no. “I mean, did you -”
“I’m not gonna answer that.” She cuts him off as soon as she’s processed just what he’s stumbling over trying to ask.
“That’s fair.”
He at least has the decency to look embarrassed, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he also favors eye contact with the ceiling rather than her.
“But… we did…” Jesus Christ, Leif, just finish the damn sentence.
“Yup.”
Alright, so neither of them are very good at the talking about this portion of what needs to happen. They never claimed to have emotional intelligence.
“I’m just gonna jump right in,” Zoey starts, finally sitting up and dragging the sheet with her in a last ditch effort to keep herself halfway decent despite the circumstances. “I don’t really know what came over me last night, whether it was the stress or the tension or the lack of sleep, but, while what happened was…” God, he really doesn’t need this ego boost. “Good. Objectively. It was a mistake.”
She looks down at him where he’s shifted up to be resting on one of his elbows and she tries to decipher his usually very expressive face, but it’s just… unreadable. She thinks for a second that he’s disappointed, but no, that can’t be it. Then she thinks maybe he’s just still waking up until he gives his head a slight shake and nods.
“Yeah.”
“Right. And, as… good as it was and even though it was just a casual… thing, it should absolutely never happen again, because that would be a very bad idea. Like, of epic proportions.”
“I agree.” He responds very matter-of-factly and she tries not to read too hard into the way his eyes fall and his jaw draws just a little bit tighter than necessary. “And if this is… a casual thing that should absolutely never happen again, it would be… a very bad idea for us to, say, get breakfast together before work.”
“I think,” She starts again, apprehension clear in her voice at what he’s suggesting. “That if this is a casual thing that should absolutely never happen again, I ask you to leave now and hope my nosy neighbor doesn’t see you and bombard me with questions.”
“That’s… fair enough, yeah.”