This was originally posted on my tumblr for a mutual who ships this pairing very strongly (which isn't to say I don't, cause I do) and I figured I'd put it up. Here's the basic prompt: Breaks into the wrong apartment while drunk. Enjoy.
He was woken by something heavy dropping on his stomach, and blinking light into his eyes was painful.
"Fuck!" he cried out, and immediately grabbed his head and rolled over, away from the light, because it hurt his head more than his stomach was hurting and goddamn it why fucking hangovers why—
"Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?" a sharp voice cut in, spiking into his ear and brain like a needle. He vaguely registered the voice as female, but the important part was—
"Please be more quiet," he groaned softly. The sound of his own voice was murder, and he was sure he was whispering.
"Who. Are. You," the girl repeated.
"Put the sun away," he groaned.
He heard a click. Slowly, carefully, he turned over—the sun was gone.
"It's 4 am. The "sun" was my flashlight," she said, just as loudly and sharply as before. "Your turn. Who are you?"
He rolled over some more until he was lying fully on his side and blinking up at a shadowy face. There was a little light but it must have been in another room cause where he was lying was still dim but—
Dammit, the brain doesn't stop even when hungover, he mused absently. "Lavi," he groaned. "Why are you in Allen's apartment?"
The girl frowned. "Allen? Who's—my neighbor," she said in a sudden rush of understanding. "Oh, I see…" she murmured, her voice falling off.
"Your neighbor?"
But that couldn't be right. Sure, he might have been a little more drunk than he thought, but—-
No.
No.
Oh shit, yes.
It was all coming back now.
"What did you drop on me?" he groaned.
She held up something—he squinted his eyes, said slowly, "Is that a purse or a concrete bag?"
"You said your name was Lavi, right?" the girl replied, ignoring his comment and dropping the bag with a thump. He winced. "Look, sorry about how I woke you up but it was that or call the cops and I wanted to be sure you weren't a creep who'd passed out on my couch first."
Lavi didn't have the brainpower at the moment to comprehend that fully but he murmured, "Thanks," anyway because it felt like the right thing to do. His brain started catching up, pounding thoughts like a kettle drum as he processed, "But if I was a creep?"
"I haven't decided if you are or aren't yet," she replied carefully. "Do you want some water?"
"Please," he groaned, and he watched her walk away, padding quietly down a carpeted floor and then kitchen linoleum, where the light was coming from.
He shaded his eyes against the light and tried to sit up, his head spinning on top of the pounding. More light from the streetlamp outside cast a dim orange glow into the room, but it wasn't burning, just unpleasant. It gave enough to form outlines: the couch he was lying on, a coffee table, a rug, and a few feet away, a bookshelf. He lay back down and covered his eyes with his arm.
A finger prodded his arm; she said, much more softly now, "Here. I brought you some aspirin too."
He lifted his arm, taking the glass and the tablets from her, swallowing in a loud gulp and then handing the glass back.
"I'm really sorry," he murmured. "I swear I didn't mean to end up here."
She sighed, reaching to set his empty glass on a table by his head, then padding away, coming back a minute later with a foot rest. Pushing it into place, she sat down, so that her knees touched the couch by his hips and she was looking directly at him.
"So, can you remember what happened, or do you need another minute?"
"I remember," Lavi replied. He didn't go on, and after a moment of waiting she crossed her arms, leaning back and looking him square in the face, her expression blank.
"Well?"
xox
He must have lost the bottle at some point because when he went to put it to his lips all he got was the taste of his own skin and soap and it was nasty and stunk of beer. He licked his hand absently, stumbling along the street between street lamps and then, he wasn't really sure when, but he was standing (that was a generous description, he noted mildly) he was standing in front a familiar building and fluorescent white lighting was shining like a beacon in front of him.
He went to try the door. It was locked. He fumbled around his jacket for his cellphone, couldn't seem to get a grip and then, ah, there, in his hands, and he was pressing buttons until the screen lit up and he texted sloppily "let m in im donstiars."
He swung right, blinked at the call buttons and the number pad and pressed the one button over and over because it was funny and he was giggling until an angry voice came over the speaker and screamed, "It's two o'clock in the morning, go the fuck away! goddamn—" but it cut off.
Lavi stared at the speaker, shrugged, did an about face, almost landed on his face and managed to stay upright long enough to walk forward a few feet and look back up at the building's front facade.
"There's a stairwell," he said to himself, his memory serving him even now. His face broke in a wide grin, and he chuckled to himself, nodding to nothing. "Good morning Allen~!" he sung under his breath.
The emergency stairwell was twenty feet to the side more than it should have been but there it was and he was just tall enough to jump and grab the bars, getting them to fall down. He was impressed with himself for not falling down either and chalked it up to his amazing dexterity.
"He he, Allen, baby, we're going dowwwwnn, i'm yellin' timbuuuurrr," he sung, his voice pitching into a strange warble. (This part he didn't tell the girl about; it was embarassing enough, now that he remembered it.) "Wait it's up, we're going up, up and awaaauuuyyyy…urgh…too much, Lavi boy, too much…" he grumbled as acid bubbled up his throat. Swallowing sourly, he pulled himself up the stairs.
The stairs wouldn't stay still and they kept swaying under him like a ship at sea—"they don't build these like they used to, man," he whined loudly, not noticing or caring how much noise he made as he pounded heavily on the metal stairs. Holding tightly onto the bars he leaned out over the street, pointing at each level with his finger as he counted one, two, three levels of stairs that he didn't quite remember climbing.
"Maybe they're onto somethin' wi' these swayin' stairs," he muttered. "Huh." Impressed again (not sure with what, now that he thought about it) he continued on until he was at the right floor.
He doubled checked.
"Don' wanna end up in the wrong apar-apar—place," he said to himself, and nodded a couple of times. "Nope. Nope nope nope…now which number's he at…19…"
He lifted a finger and started counting again from the left, until he hit what he was one hundred and ten percent sure was 19 because he had the layout of the building memorized ya know and it curled around weirdly so 19 was where 4 ought'a be—and so he walked down the way, holding tightly to the rail because the stairs were swaying again.
"They shouldn' do thaaa when you're on the level," he grumbled, and then he was at the window and it was dark. There were curtains pulled over to block the view.
"He got new curtains," Lavi mumbled, and tested the window. It wasn't bolted shut, but on the fourth floor maybe that was just an oversight. He lifted it until he could slip through, and then thoughtfully shut it behind him, slamming it a bit harder than he meant to.
"Shhhh!" he whispered, holding a finger to his mouth and frowning disapprovingly at the window. "Don't be so loud!" he reprimanded it, then turned away.
Bump!
"Owwww," Lavi whined, and then shushed himself, reaching down and rubbing his shin. Allen had changed the furniture around. Weird. He reached forward and grabbed onto the couch, which should have been cloth but was a weird leather thing? "Huh," Lavi mumbled. Then he shrugged.
The apartment was dark, so Lavi stumbled around carefully, trying to find the wall.
He found a bookshelf, and grabbed the first one he could get a firm grip on and turned to find the window, which was easy because a streetlamp shone through the curtain. He walked over (these floors swayed too, that was dangerous) and opened the curtain to read the cover.
"Betrayal…by Danielle Steele?" Lavi snorted, and flipped the book over to read the back. "Oh man, Allen," he giggled and continued, "At least it's not a cookbook," before dropping the book on the floor.
"Oh damn," he mumbled, bending over to pick it back up and brush it off, because it was a book and you didn't treat books like that. Sure you can write on 'em and make notes he liked doing that all his favorites had fully inked margins but you didn't throw them like that—
He hit his shin on the couch and swore under his breath, dropping the book again.
"Whatever," he grumbled. Turning away from the window he hit his shin again— "dammit Allen firs' thing we're moving your damn couch."
It was hot in the apartment, and Lavi started fanning himself, slumping back until he was sitting on the couch's arm and boy it was really warm it had been cool outside—
He took off his coat, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor, then grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted it off in one smooth motion (—or so he told the girl. Really, he had had a hard time find the hole where his head went through and he knocked his elbows together a couple of times. He wasn't sure how he'd managed that.) But he got the shirt off.
Lavi dropped the shirt on top of the jacket and slumped over, feeling much better. He chuckled under his breath. "Poor Allen," he said to himself. "Poor kid," he said again. He looked down at his hands, and then stood up.
At least he tried, but the floor was swaying like the sea again and suddenly his face was buried in the leather. It smelled faintly of smoke and perfume, but it was cool. This is nice, he thought absently. I'll just lie down a minute and then I'll go find Allen…
xox
"That's what happened."
The girl was staring at him, hardly blinking, arms still crossed together. She didn't say anything for a minute, and then sighed tiredly.
"Should I find your friend now, or wait til morning?" she said simply.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You believe me?"
She shrugged. "Well, my book's still on the ground, the curtain's still wide open, and your shirt and jacket are laying on the floor behind me…so, yeah," she said. "I believe you."
Lavi looked down at his chest, which was still bare. Touching it gently, he looked up suddenly as it hit him that he was sitting in a stranger's apartment half-naked. It was amazing she hadn't maced him right off.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
She smirked, coming to her feet and bending down to get his jacket and shirt. For the first time he noticed she was still in her pajamas—shorts and a t-shirt. She had really nice— "Don't be," she said, handing them to him. He took them gratefully, suddenly not quite able to meet her eye.
There was a frantic knocking at the door.
The girl sighed. "What now?" she mumbled, but walked over to the door, peering through the peephole and then sliding the lock open, cracking the door.
"I'm so, so sorry about waking you, I realize it's early, but have you seen a redhead with an eye patch anywhere? I got a text and—"
The girl held up her hand, shut the door, and slid the chain lock open, opening the door wider. "I think he's over here," she said, and backed up to reveal Allen standing in the hallway, hair a bed-head mess, eyes red, a coat thrown over pajamas and still wearing a pair of slippers.
Lavi grinned guiltily as Allen glared at him.
"Eh, he he…hello, Allen," he said with a grin.
Allen glared at Lavi, and began, "You—"
"Why don't you come inside?" the girl said pleasantly, and Allen started, glancing at her, and then nodded with muttered apologies under his breath as he came in.
"I was already up," she said, waving them away. "I'm Lenalee, by the way. We've been neighbors for a while now, it's nice to finally meet you."
"Oh, yes, of course," Allen said, raising a hand for her to shake. She smiled slightly, shook his hand, and gestured to the couch. "Why don't you take a seat? You guys want coffee?"
"I am so, so sorry about this," Allen continued as he walked over to the couch. He turned to Lavi and frowned severely, the look promising death later. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
"Oh," Lavi said with an embarrassed grin. "Long story, actually…"
Which, incidentally, is how Lenalee Lee met her neighbor Allen Walker and his strangely entertaining friend Lavi.