Warning: This is rated Mature for a reason. Things will not always be sunshine and daisies as Life is rarely that way. If you don't like don't read. With that said and fair warning given you may continue on.
The first thing he noticed upon wakening was the weight.
A rather light weight really- but still too heavy to be the fine silk sheets he had dressed his bed with -drapped across his legs and his chest.
The second thing the white haired man noticed was a faint tickling of gentle breath against his chest.
Slowly emerald eyes pried open only to quickly shut a moment later as the faint morning light that managed to escape through the curtains all but blinded him.
God his eyes... His head... It was too early for this.
Still the man was stubborn as emerald eyes slowed pried theirselves open once more and slowly darted downwards to the source of the weight.
Hair.
Short, messy blood red hair.
No way in the Seven Hells was it his.
Take a breath, more to clear his mind the anything, the british man fount himself assaulted by a rather stale sent of alcohol and sex.
Alcohol...
That right, he had gond to the tavern after another rough mission to drown away the guilt of what he had to do. A usual habbit he had picken up when said mission involved terminating the life of children.
Shaking his head the spy vanished the thought only to freeze as the movement stirred the other body.
For a breif moment he was certain the woman would wake, for without a doubt those where breast pressed tightly against his own chest, but his bed partner didn't. Instead the woman seemed to calm after a moment drifting back into her slumber.
Sighing softly, for the british spy allowed his eyes to take in what he could of his bed partner.
She wasn't the most beautiful person he had ever seen, most of her face was all but hidden behind rouge bangs on in his chest but she had somethings going for her.
Pale skin though most of it seemed to be covered in scars, teethmarks and bruises- no doubt he had something to do with the later. Despite his Gentleman like attitude even he had moments where he needed things rough.
The scars where likely from an abusive childhood though they sort of reminded him of a few of his own- still he highly doubted the woman had gotten them the same way he recieved his.
She was slender and the breast pressed to his chest where just the right size- in his own opinion- and completely natural if the lack of the usual faint scars by plastic sugery was anything to go by.
Her waist was all buy hidden by the sheets pulled around them but if his rather fuzzy memeory was telling the truth they where just perfect for his hands to grip. Her long legs where intwined with his own.
The hidden musclues he could feel just under her skin spoke of an athletic person- she likely spent a lot of time running.
All in all she was rather pretty just not a perfect ten. Likely someone he had picked up at the bar durring his drunken state...
Still, Who the Hell was she?
Prying himself from the woman without waking her was a bit difficult but once he did so the spy couldn't help but sigh in releif as she all but snuggled into his spot.
Thank God for small Miracles.
For a moment there he had been certain she would have woken and no doubt the screaming would have started.
Screaming he really could do without right now.
Slowly emerlad eyes moved about the room, trying to locate his clothing. With luck he would be dressed and gone by time she woke only to freeze on a piling of clothing that was both fimilar but diffently not his.
A suit.
A well made chasemare suit rather neatly folded and sitting innocently on the bedside chair.
Usually this would't have drawn his attention- many a man and woman with money to spare brough chasemare suits, even dark red ones- if not for the fimilar cufflinks attached to the sleves.
They looked strangley enough like golden acrons with the initials RS engraved inside.
Of course it could have been his mind just playing tricks on him, or maybe even a trick of the light.
The spy tried to reason with himself as he crossed the room and picked up the jacket for a better look causing fabric to fall at his feet.
No...
Diffently a golden acron with RS inside. Still it didn't prove anything. Maybe this woman just had the same fashion sense.
Emerald eyes slowly moved down to the fabric at his feet.
A dark crimson button up shirt but there was soemthing else. Another peiece of fabirc poking out that was not within the color theme his bed partner seemed to prefer wearing.
A single strapless white cloth with hooks on the side.
No sleeves. It was rather small...
A binder.
Dropping the cloth emerarld eyes moved to the pants before a reflective glint of light drew his attention to the bedside dresser.
Sitting innocently yet mockingly on said stand was a few throwing knives, a dagger and...
Fuck...
Acorns.
Not just any acorns though, he knew those well. They held a sleeping gas inside.
Swiftly the spy spun on heel and made his way back to the bed.
This had to be a mistake but there was only one way to be sure.
Leaning over the sleeping woman the british man brushed the bangs from her face. There was scarring around one of her eyes but that wasn't what he was looking for.
Once durring one of his missions chasing his arch nenemiss he had allowed his anger to cloud him and in a violent fit had tried to slit the other's throat, if the scarring was there...
Licking his suddenly desert dry lips the spy's fingers moved down the pale face as they purposely searched for the one thing that shouldn't be there.
Please don't let it be there. For God's sake please don't be there.
But it was.
A thin smooth scar staright across the pale skin of her throat. Almost completely Hidden ever so slighly under bruises and teeth imprints.
Fuck.
Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck.
This wasn't possible.
But the evidence all pointed to one thing.
The woman sleeping soundly in his bed was none other then his arch nemesis, The Red Squiirel.
Fuck.
Red was a Woman?!