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

The more he drank, the easier it became to go along with the complicated mess that was convincing Alice that they would be alright. Besides that, they could lose to Minnie without actually being embarrassed about it. When she headed down the hall to the guest rooms, Oliver's mum went with her. By the time they took Ariel upstairs, things were blurry - though, frankly, not as blurry as Oliver would have liked. He had intended to get wasted to some extent, but the knowledge that he was supposed to be sharing a bed with Alice again? No chance. He wasn't risking another stupid move or decision when it came to her. Absolutely not.

It wasn't until Alice decided she wanted to change that Oliver sobered up a bit. Her shirt was ignored, and as he was essentially knocked over onto the duvet, his hands came to rest at her sides. The dizziness was back, clouding his vision even as she looked down at him. Oliver wasn't sure if he should feel badly or annoyed when she told him he was both lovely and pretty, but that was quickly shoo'd from his mind as she sat up and essentially demanded he think well enough to come up with some game they could play. He most certainly was not going to be able to think of anything with Alice wearing some damned ridiculous under clothing. Oliver couldn't even think of the proper word for it just then, but he knew it made him a bit funny in the head.

"Alice-" he attempted, blinking hard and fairly rapidly in an attempt to center his vision. "Allie, I've never been good at games. Ummm." He turned his head, looking around the room. The door, he realized, was still open. It probably needed to stay open, considering his family, but they were also being far too loud for him to consider doing so. "Okay," he decided, "first game: You've gotta -- gotta hold tight."

Without realizing that he probably needed to give her a second to figure out what he was on about, Oliver sat up and wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her to him as he moved and stood. His free hand pulled her leg round his waist as he moved to get the door, shutting it as gently as he could manage without falling over. His mind registered again what she was wearing, and it distracted him enough that he almost dropped her right back onto the bed. Gathering himself somewhat, he gave her a boost, lifted her enough that he could wrap his spare arm around her as well, and tried to steady himself enough to actually look at her.

While his words slowed a bit and he didn't quite realize how he addressed her, Oliver offered Alice a bemused smile. "Love, you're going to regret drinking so m-much come morning. I guarantee that. I think we should put off games until tomorrow." Making his way around the bed as well as he could considering the precarious bags and all else that was strewn across his floor. Perhaps he would actually clean up once his hangover was gone the next day. Leaning over, he moved the covers and set Alice down on the mattress before pulling the sheets over her.

He wouldn't have usually done so, considering when he was in his right mind he realized the potential awkwardness, but as he walked back around to the side nearest the door, Oliver pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it somewhere near his bag. Then, he flopped onto the blankets and turned to face Alice. "Sleep time, yeah? Games tomorrow."

Games. Games were on her mind. She was giddy with having beaten Ariel – albeit just the once but once was enough. She was also excited over the fact that she and Ollie were friends again. Alice Rousseau, finally, was also over the moon that she could sleep soundly tonight, although getting her to sleep would be a mammoth task for the Frenchman. No, she was wide awake. For all of the alcohol in her – or perhaps because of it – she was more awake than she’d ever been and she was eager to stay that way, too. She felt absurdly mischievous and she had developed a real interest in Ollie’s shoulders – especially given how fondly she was patting at them with her fingertips.

Ollie, it turned out, had a game. Alice beamed at him and did as directed though it wasn’t until he got up that she actually reaffirmed her grip. She swung her legs around his waist, bringing herself flush against him. She helped push the door to a close, though she was more of a hindrance than a help. She clapped her hands together happily once the door was shut and, half losing her balance, she grasped hold of Ollie again, shock riddling across her features before disappearing in favour for the indulgent smile she’d taken on earlier.

“No, no, no,” she shook her head. “You’ll regret drinking so much in the morning!” She giggled at him.

She pouted a little when she was plopped down on the bed but she happily took up the covers, curling into them and twisting her legs around the fabric. Burrowing, Alice pulled the covers over her head and waited for a few moments before popping back out again, exclaiming: “Boo!”

She giggled again and wiggled over to Ollie, pulling at the covers so she could then throw them over him.

“You’ll be cold!” She admonished, pulling his face into her hands. “Cooooold,” she reiterated, pressing her nose against his. “My Ollie can’t be cold,” she insisted. “He’s got to be lovely and warmies.” Alice nodded firmly and readjusted the covers so that Ollie was suitably underneath – which meant entirely under, up to his neck – and then wiggled towards him until her head was under his chin.

Alice looked up at Ollie and grinned cheekily at him before reaching to grasp at his cheeks again. She rolled them between her palms and cooed nonsensically at him before nibbling on the end of his nose, her lips curling up either side.

“You are very yummy,” she pronounced decisively. “But I shan’t nom on you because cannibalism is wrong.” She nodded thoughtfully, as though it was a revelation. “Ollie. Ollie. Ollie. Ollie? Ollieverrrrr…you’re my favourite. Did you know? Ariel smells of wet dog. You’re lovvveeeelllyyyy.” She grinned again and snuggled into him, resting her face in the crook of his neck. “You’re warm and you smell nice and you are yummy – but not too yummy. Because you know,” she lifted her head out of his neck, repeating herself. “Cannibalism isn’t right. Besides, I think you have lots of bones.” She poked at his ribs idly before nodding. “Yep. Lots of bones. Too many to be properly yummy.”

Her logic, really, was infallible.

“Are you sure we can’t play a game?” Alice asked, pouting at him. “Because I’ve been really, really good. I mean, I’m good at games you see. I was good at that game. You might be right. Maybe games are for tomorrow.” She closed her eyes dramatically and then feigned a few snores before snapping her eyes open again. “Good morning!” She exclaimed happily. “Can we play now? Please? Please? Please? Please, please, please, please? Ollie. Ollie. Ollie. I want to play a game. Just one. A good one. A really, really good one. Pleeeeeeeasssssseeeeeee?”

“You’re probably right about that, Allie,” Oliver conceded as he watched her hide and reappear. He lifted himself up when she tugged at the sheets, thinking that he had pulled it his way when he tried to get settled.

Instead, he found himself beneath the covers right next to her for the first time, staring at her as she approached again, their noses brushing against each other. She was trying to kill him. She had to be. “I was okay without covers, you know.” Oliver offered a smile nonetheless, indulging her when she couldn’t quite help what she was doing. He half wished he had gotten just as drunk as Alice, so he wouldn’t be aware just how awkward they should feel right then.

Oliver couldn’t help but blink down at her as she curled around him, trying to pay attention to something besides the fact that she was still – as ever, apparently – trying her damnedest to make him blurt out exactly what he thought about her underthings. Then again, after what had happened before, why would he bother, right? He had already decided that he would put his feelings aside. So he just needed to make sure that she didn’t fall out of bed or talk too loud the next morning. Regardless of the fact that he wasn’t all that far gone, he wouldn’t be all that pleasant in the morning if Alice decided to continue one like she was then.

“Alice,” he attempted, only to be talked over as she chattered on. “Alice. Allie, hold on,” Oliver said finally, turning towards her and letting his hand rest on her side, fingers splayed around to her back. “Okay, okay. Lemme think. …How about,” he decided after a moment, leaning on the idea he went with a lot when it came to Minnie, “we can do this: Whoever falls asleep first gets to decide what we do next time we go out.”

He didn’t give her too much time to register that, more than likely, neither would actually know who went first. Instead, he used the hand at her waist to tug her towards him, giving the cue that she should go with the ‘game.’ His hand left her side to brush her hair over her shoulder and shifted so she could use his shoulder or chest as a pillow if she found a desire to.

“Things will be better next week,” Oliver promised quietly. He doubted she would remember his words anyway, so he continued and hoped that even if she didn’t approve of his so-called game, his voice might soothe her if he kept on. “I mean, I do hold onto things, and I know that it affects people. Dad’s been the same, as long as I can remember, so I probably get it from him. But I won’t let this affect you or Ari, if I can help it.”

He tilted his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Sleep, babe. We’ve still got another day before it gets real.”

The blonde woman recognised the fact that Ollie was trying to fool her into going to sleep. She wasn’t as entirely silly as the alcohol suggested and she was quite proud of herself that she’d managed to work it out – implying perhaps she was a little bit tiddlier than she would have first thought. Nevertheless, knowing Ollie was nearby was a great influencer in her decision to wiggle nearer and consider playing his game and going off to sleep. She rolled her eyes at him purposefully, though, letting him know she knew. Oh, yes. She knew he was tricking her. But she settled down all the same.

“You are sleepy, then?” She asked softly, in the midst of a yawn of her own. She brought a hand to her mouth and smiled into her palm before flopping her arm around Ollie, drawing herself up close to him so that she could feed off of his warmth. She did rationalise that going shirtless was impractical and she was quite sure she had goose bumps on her bum she was so chilly but as she wiggled in next to Ollie she began to slowly but surely warm up. She laid her head gently against his shoulder as he’d half-directed and her face half fell into his neck, her breath ghosting across his neck with every soft exhale.

“I’ll look after you,” she mumbled, reaching out for his hand. “And make sure you don’t have to pretend not to be sad but …” another yawn took her for a moment before she went on, closing her eyes. “But you’re really actually happy. It’s going to be okay. I’ll fix it. Mmmhmm.” She yawned again and snuggled further into him. “Y’know, we should really go and see my parents. It’s still warm in Avignon. Could go sailing.”

That was the last thought that graced Alice’s wakeful thoughts as she descended into dreams not long after. She didn’t toss and turn as per usual and instead stayed curled into Ollie, her hand loose in his. It was only when Ollie turned that she did, winding his arm around her middle and turning over to face the windows as they went, continuing to sleep on blissfully unaware of what was going on in the world outside. It was one of those boozy nights when it could safely be said that neither a train nor a herd of elephants could have woken them and they slept on and on, and on until the sun was peeking through the curtains, shining onto the bed. It was that which began to rouse them, or Alice at least.

Cracking open an eye, she immediately began to feel the effects of the wine. She’d forgotten how perilous French wine was, preferring to drink English stuff at home. She sighed softly and pulled the covers up tighter around them before turning over, cuddling into Ollie’s chest. She wound herself tighter around him, her leg sliding over his top one, and she burrowed into his neck again as she began to take notice of a little bit of movement in the house. It wasn’t anything substantial, mind you. She was sure it was just the kettle boiling. She couldn’t be entirely sure, though, and didn’t pay it much mind at all.

“Morning,” she whispered, testing whether Ollie was awake or not. She wasn’t sure but if not then she was perfectly happy to steal some more sleep – a few more hours would be nice.

Oliver wouldn't actually realize it when he was awake, but he slept better than he had in over a week. Since Alice had first had her nightmare. He was no longer the protector while she slept, but rather, each of them had to play that role in order to shop away bad thoughts or dreams. Not that Oliver had ever truly minded playing that guy, but he had tried to convince himself that it was bad or annoying. Because it was Alice. But he couldn't - wouldn't - turn her away if she needed him.

Because it was Alice.

The first thing he was aware of, though, was that his arm was trapped between his side and Alice as she turned towards him. Usually, it wouldn't have been a problem, because Oliver wasn't beneath the sheets. But now it was keeping him awake when he would have much rather kept on sleeping. He just needed to free the hand, Oliver decided, rolling onto his back. He didn't expect to actually draw Alice closer towards him, but it happened nonetheless due to the leg draped over his. He slipped his arm under her head regardless, creating a little corner she could tuck into if she felt like it.

Her sleepy greeting, along with the hand that drifted across his torso, told Oliver that he would need to get up sooner rather than later. This situation was oddly new, considering, and he could help but be wary of that leg curled around him. He could work her into going to get something for the headache she most probably had, Oliver mused. That could work. Or maybe she would go to sleep again.

His head turned towards her again, accidentally finding his nose brushed against her hair. It was comforting to an extent because he had essentially slept with Alice's hair right in front of him, and because by now, he was more or less used to her being there. It sounded strange, but he was used to the smell of her shampoo just as much as he was used to whatever it was that just smelled like Alice. With the alcohol from the night before, it wasn't the exact same, but Oliver would've known it was her, even if he couldn't see or reach out, or even hear her give him a morning hello. He would have just known.

"Morning," he returned, the word mumbled into the hair at the crown of her head. "Feeling okay? We can go down and get something if you've got a headache."

As tempted as he was to point out that she would need to get dressed before they did so, Oliver kept the commentary to himself, instead reaching the arm farthest from her over to rub the one of hers that was wrapped across his stomach. It was too easy, too comfortable. And yet they weren't even together in any technical capacity. So maybe their being just friends was the right path, then, considering how simple it felt.

Part of Oliver still pointed out that normal friends didn't do what he and Alice did, though. They were quite strange, the pair of them.

A hummed response was emitted from betwixt the lips of the blonde woman who wiggled in closer to the man beside her. She shrugged her shoulder a little in rreply to his question. Her grasp around him tightened as she wiggled her face further into his neck, sighing softly as she inhaled the scent emanating gently from his skin. Beside him, she felt so very safe. Yet, the pressures of showing themselves at breakfast and the allure of watching Ariel groan into his food well after having been given a sobering potion was a draw in itself with regards to going downstairs. However, a glance over at the clock on the nightstand told the weary Rousseau that there was no need to worry just yet – which meant the alcohol could, for an hour at least, be slept off a little more naturally.

“Don’t worry yourself,” she mumbled into his skin, her lips fluttering across his neck. “Just stay here. You’re so warm still.” She snuggled closer still, her leg hitching higher, as though to prove her point. She ran her fingers idly over his arm when he brought it over hers and smiled contentedly before lifting her head, glancing around the room wonderingly before bringing her face down into his neck again, reluctant to brace against the chilliness of the morning. It probably wasn’t that cold, either, but in comparison to the bed where they were tucked up tightly, even the Bahamas could be considered brisk. No, under the covers with Ollie beside her it was warm and that warmth and her dozing was staving off the alcohol. She was going nowhere.

“Did you sleep well?” She asked, reopening her eyes a little. Her fingers began to draw a path up Ollie’s arm and when they wandered back down she draped her arm over his chest next to his, her hand falling naturally to his side. She lifted herself up a bit after a moment and moved her opposite arm, pressing her elbow into the mattress and setting her cheek into her palm as she observed him lightly with her misty blue eyes.

“Brrr,” she complained all of a sudden, shrinking back into him. In doing so, she turned onto his chest more fully and her hands came to his shoulders, one retreating back to draw up the covers over their heads. Then, it was dark around them, though light specked through the sheets enough for her to see him. She smiled and set herself between his legs, folding her arms before bringing her head down to rest on them. .“Hidden.” She uttered contentedly. “And so warm.” She closed her eyes, savouring the feeling, and sighed.

“Do we have to get up?” She asked sadly, peering at him. “Can’t we stay? One more hour. Just a smidgen more sleep, Olls.”

Oliver was, honestly, relaxed enough at the beginning of their conversation. As much as one typically was when they had just woken up, he supposed. A lazy sort of smile grew on Oliver's face at her reply, deciding that he could really do with a slow morning. Everyone in the house seemed like they could use one, really. Especially with what would be coming up the next day. His eyes closed for a few moments as he just let himself sink further into the mattress.

"That sounds pretty good," he admitted quietly, his cheek brushing against hers as he spoke. She was practically attached to his shoulder, and the gentle puffs of breath against his neck had chills appearing despite the innate warmth that came from having slept under the sheets next to her. It was actually far nicer than his usual attempt at being a gentleman and using just the one blanket. If Oliver was reading her right, he realized, Alice seemed to actually prefer it, as well.

"Good, yeah," he nodded, "though I'm pretty sure I fell asleep on you. Didn't actually sleep too well yesterday night at the Leaky, y'know?"

It didn't even register that he hadn't told either of his roommates exactly where he had been the night before, but that was mostly Alice's fault when she moved to lay atop him. The light was essentially blocked as she pulled the duvet over top, and he would have laughed at how much she reminded him of a cat.... were it not for something he realized far too late. It was morning.

"Alice," he cut in, warning evident in his tone even as his hands flew to her waist. "I'm um, glad you're warm, but you might not want to.. that is.. Look, you can stay, but I really shouldn't. Like, it's not that I don't wanna sleep in," Oliver clarified, surprised at his own inability to find the proper words. Usually, the man had a much more impressive vocabulary. "There's just an... issue."

He blinked at her where she was settled on his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric at her side without his telling them to. She was going to have to move, or Oliver was just going to make her. Really, there weren't any other options. It was just not okay, how they were in that moment.

“You shouldn’t have-” Alice broke off, sighing softly into Ollie’s chest. She brought one of her hands up to his cheek and rubbed her thumb absently across his cheekbone before addressing him with forlorn eyes. “I wish you hadn’t gone,” she murmured. “I don’t like the idea of you being in the Leaky on your own. I mean,” she winced. “I’m not … I just …” she sighed again, gathering her words. “I wished you’d been home. Then we could’ve all sort of … oh,” she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore, I suppose.”

Alice settled again bringing her arms underneath her chin as a small pout formed on her lips. She hadn’t realised it was there he’d gone. She supposed it was somewhat logical and really she and Ariel should have worked it out. Half of her was almost certain that Ariel knew where Ollie had gone, he just hadn’t been forthright in telling her. It irked her that she didn’t have that privilege just yet. It wasn’t even really privilege in the grand scheme of things. It was about trust. In truth though, she had violated that and she recognised it, too. She couldn’t really blame either of the boys for keeping their cards close to their chest.

Miles away though she was, when Ollie spoke again Alice’s eyes flicked up to his and she opened her mouth to question the look of discomfort on his face. She felt his hands at her sides and she jumped a little, not having expected the touch. In doing so, their hips clashed together. She gasped a little, her eyes widening to saucer size as she realised what he meant. She felt her cheeks heat up, setting her skin alight with burning vengeance and she ducked her head into his chest.

“Not strictly an issue,” she uttered into his skin hesitantly, her lips ghosting their touch across the surface again. Alice lifted her head and she pushed her legs up, sliding herself either side of his waist to relieve him a little. In truth, it only served to put her higher up and she found herself astride him in the most overt manner she could have ever envisioned. She blanched, staring at him for a moment before adding: “better?” Absurdly, she even managed to find a teasing smile for her lips.

Her smile narrowed into a half smirk as she slid back down to where she was, her hips rolling over his. Her eyebrows quirked upwards towards her hairline cheekily and her lips stretched to the side even further. “A very good morning,” she determined airily, drifting her hips back up to his waist again. “Can I make it better at all?” She inquired, leaning over him, her chest falling flush with his, her face drifting in towards his neck. Her lips moved up to his ear, her breath warm and pulsing against it, and her hand skated down to the waistband of his shorts. “I think,” she added, drifting her fingers along the line, “I can most definitely help with your problem.”

"It wasn't that bad, Allie," Oliver pointed out in the hope that it might soothe her somehow. "I know the owner, so it was actually kinda convenient. Helped me book a plane ticket and everything, since I'd forgotten to at home." He almost wanted to turn his cheek into her palm, but he settled instead for adding, "So, really, it was okay. I was looked after."

It wasn't like it bothered Oliver one way or another if he had been taken care of. But it seemed to matter to Alice that her friends were around someone they knew, and someone that could make sure everything was okay. But then Alice decided it was her turn to break those unspoken rules he had ignored the night before, and Oliver nearly sat up in sheer surprise. Her words actually scared him for a second, not sure if she was just trying to torture him for the sake of it, or if she was actually being serious. Both options were worrying.

"Alice," he breathed, the warning audible again. This wasn't some game to him, and it was totally probable that neither could come back from something like what she was hinting at.

Wait. Hinting at? No, more like showing him.

Oliver's eyes fell shut as he tried to focus -- tried to find the words to stop her without insulting her. Unless she was just being cruel, he didn't want to be the one on the harsh side. Alice had never seemed, at least to Oliver, to be someone who would do something just to bother someone or hurt them - emotionally or otherwise. He couldn't find any words, though. Not at all. Instead, he just told himself to keep breathing and wait for her to move away and say that she was just joking. Or to announce that she was somehow already drunk again.

It didn't make any sense, but it felt like Alice was everywhere, surrounding him. Frankly, that job belonged to the duvet that she had pulled over them. If Oliver turned his head, he could've kissed her - and, really, he was astoundingly tempted to. But that was clearly off limits. And yet Alice didn't think that this qualified as off limits?


"Can you, now?" he mumbled, a laugh pushing through. His instincts were telling him that, if Alice had started it, he wouldn't necessarily be able to get in trouble for it. Alice would probably try, in the end, but accepting it and accepting that he could probably talk his way out of it certainly made him stop rethinking their situation. It wasn't like they were in his room at the flat. He wouldn't walk in to try and write, but then remember that something like this had happened. No, this was different. Separate. "You'll have to show me."

Oliver's hands drifted down to the curve at the top of her thighs, fingers curling against the skin there. He shifted, tucking his chin to run his nose along the column of her neck. Drawing in a breath, Oliver hesitated only a moment before he pulled her closer so he could roll them over. His hands ran up the backs of her thighs, lifting her knees on either side of him as their hips were once again meshed together, and Oliver started brushing kisses along the neckline of her top. Though, really, it wasn't much of one. Not that he was complaining.

It was all really, really messed up, but Oliver couldn't bring himself to care.

She’d claim madness later; a fit of carnality she couldn’t stave off. In that breath, though, there was nothing mad about it. It was all so frighteningly simple. She wanted him. Needed him. So, by that logic, she’d have him, too. She took a gasp, her breath catching at the back of her throat, as he drew his skin against hers. Behind him, he left a trail of skin alight with feeling, with passion that she could no longer contain. She grasped at him, pulling at his shoulders, his neck, and his face until there was nothing left to do but kiss him. Beneath him, his body flush against hers, she kissed him with all of the ferocity she had within her. It was carnal. It was instinct. By God, she needed him.

In time she’d come to wonder what it was that prompted her to be so forward, so blunt and so very real. She would wonder on her own in the quiet periods during her work day whether she had done right by Ollie in doing as she did but in the moment it was just about what was happening. Everything else, for her, could’ve melted away and never could have been palpable again for all she cared. She was desperate for him. She needed him close to her. Within her very skin, she needed him. Whatever was causing it, she couldn’t find it within herself to question the wisdom of that entity. More than ever, her feelings for Ollie were being questioned and re-examined. All she knew was, she wanted him.

“I can show you,” she gasped out as their hips roved together, stifling a gasp that half ripped through her lips. Her hand slipped beyond the shorts, her fingertips searching out for the skin she so eagerly wanted to find and she body arched a little bit in doing so, her form sliding against his. Alice re-angled her head and her lips drifted at his, pulling at them and driving them against her own, desperate for reaction, for love. Her fingers broke the clasp holding her bra and she tossed it to the ground dismissively before bringing him back to her, their chests at one with each other.

“Show me,” she endeavoured, her lips ghosting over his.