[In response to the following prompt: I really want an "I accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you, and I was in the area, drunk, and I thought I was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and I did wonder when my friend got two cats but I didn't question it) so now I'm hungover and shirtless in your living room, so, um, hi...howya doin'?" au]
Allan A Dale had been having a dream. A very nice dream. If he was being honest, it was the best dream he'd had in a long time. He had been trying out a new parlour trick at a party and was, to his delight, doing extremelywell. The money was rolling in, the music was pumping, the beer was flowing, and the pretty blonde sitting next to him was getting veryfriendly. But then, suddenly, he was interrupted mid-round - and quite a pity, for a cracking good round it was turning out to be - by someone screaming bloody murder. Startled out of his sleep, he snapped his eyes open. As he came to, he became aware that he was lying - fully-clothed…save for his shirt, which was missing - on a distinctly floral sofa. His head was throbbing painfully. He vaguely remembered making his way to Will's flat after leaving the pub the night before, but something wasn't right here. He glanced around, blinking. Will's flat was tidy, but not thistidy. No, it was all wrong - the sofa, the set-up of the room, the colour of the walls - and, most importantly, he realized with a jolt, the screaming hadn't stopped. He sat up, looking around wildly to identify the source.
The screaming was coming from a young woman - a very prettyyoung woman, he couldn't help but notice - standing in the middle of the room, frozen in place, eyes wide with shock, mouth gaping, still emitting that infernal shrieking sound. When their eyes met, she stopped screaming abruptly - clapping her hands over her mouth - and just stood there staring at him. She was wearing what looked like pyjamas, and she was barefoot. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a knot at the top of her head; little wisps had escaped during the night and stood out from her head, adding to her already-frazzled appearance. Her green eyes were wide and bright with fear as they swept over him, taking in his bedraggled appearance. Allan swallowed, hard.
Bugger.
With growing horror, he was beginning to realize that this most certainly was not, in fact, Will's flat. It was most likely this girl's flat…and he, a complete stranger- not to mention one who was only partially dressed, smelt of stale beer and fags, and probably looked like a tramp - had just broken into her flat and spent the night sleeping on her very nice, very clean, veryfloral sofa.
BUGGER.
"Please don't panic…" he croaked, staggering to his feet, holding out his hands in what he hoped would come across as a placating gesture. His head was spinning, and not just because of the hangover...although that was admittedly a fair bit of it.
"DON'T MOVE, OR…OR…I'LL RING THE POLICE!" the girl shrieked, hurriedly backing away from him and right smack into the kitchen table, which she then clung to tightly for support.
Allan stayed where he was, swaying slightly. His hands had shot higher into the air of their own accord at the mention of the police, and he quickly lowered them again, rather hoping she hadn't noticed. She hadn't; she was too busy shooting desperate glances toward a door on the other side of the room - likely the bedroom - to look at him properly. Probably trying to figure out how fast she can get to her mobile, Allan thought, guilt bubbling in his stomach. Shit, she's terrified.
"Look," he said reassuringly, "I'm really sorry. I know this looks a bit dodgy…" The girl let out a bark of hysterical laughter at that. "…alright, it looks a lotdodgy, but I can explain. See, the thing is, I was at the pub down the road last night, and I got…well, I got a bit drunk, so I came 'round hopin' I might crash on my mate's sofa, right? But he wasn't answerin' the door. So I was leavin', and I noticed this window was open - only I was completely trollied, and I thought it was hiswindow, but it was really yours- and I climbed up the fire escape and through the window." He was rambling now, but the words just kept coming. "I didthink something was a bit…off…at the time - I mean, I remember thinkin' it was odd that Will had got two cats and not told me or anythin' - but, like I said, I was pissed, not to mention knackered, and it was dark as Hades in here, and I didn't really think anythin' of it…just…settled onto the sofa for a kip. I'm really, reallysorry!"
The girl just stood there, dumbfounded, looking at him like he'd grown an extra limb.
"Will?" she repeated, doubtfully.
Allan nodded.
The girl shook her head, as if trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. "And you expect me to just believe you?!" she blurted out.
Allan shrugged. "It's the truth, I swear it. Look, I'm not goin' to hurt you, and I'm not tryin' to steal anythin', promise. No harm done, yeah? I'll just go on my merry way, and you'll never see me again."
The girl huffed at him angrily. "And I'm meant to just let you go?!" Her voice was rising both in pitch and in volume with each word. "You're barking! I walk out of my bedroom this morning to find a TOTAL STRANGER - not to mention a HALF-NAKED, MALE total stranger - SLEEPING ON MY SOFA. Then said stranger tells me he CLIMBED THROUGH MY OPEN WINDOW IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, while PISS DRUNK, and I'm supposed to just LET HIM WALK OUT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?"
Allan furrowed his brow in thought. He wasn't quite sure where she was going with this…
"But that's the thing…nothing didhappen!"
"HOW DO I KNOW YOU'RE NOT A STALKER?!" she screeched, waving her arms at him for emphasis.
Ah.
Allan sighed resignedly. "I promise, I'm not a stalker. I'm just a normal, decent bloke who made a mistake, alright? A massivemistake. It won't happen again."
The girl just stood there, hand on her hips, scowling at him from across the room.
"I'm not bein' funny, but it could be worse!" Allan quipped lightly, trying to diffuse the tension. "I could be starkers!" He flashed her a cheeky grin for good measure. Her eyes flitted momentarily down to his bare chest, then back up to his face. He raised his eyebrows questioningly in response, and then grinned even wider as she blushed and pointedly looked away.
"Kindly put your top back on," she retorted, folding her arms across her chest in annoyance and staring intently at the wall. "Why did you even take it off in the first place?"
Allan shrugged and reached for his t-shirt, which was lying discarded on the carpet next to the sofa. "I was hot," he replied, struggling slightly to pull the t-shirt over his head. He caught her watching out the corner of his eye, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. She blushed again, but she didn't look away this time.
"What's your name?" he asked hopefully, but she just pursed her lips and eyed him warily, as if to say, Don't try your luck, mister.
"I'm Allan, by the way," he offered, extending his hand. "Allan A Dale."
She narrowed her eyes at his outstretched hand, as if it had offended her. "And you're a mate of Will Scarlett's, you say?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She scoffed. "Poor Will."
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!" Allan replied indignantly.
She simply raised a disdainful eyebrow in response.
The sudden knock on the door made them both jump. The girl - whatever her name was - looked quickly at the door, looked back at Allan, and then looked at the door again. After a moment's hesitation, she crossed the room to open it.
"Emily? You alright?" Allan heard Will's voice say from the hallway. "I thought I heard screaming, so I figured…you know…I figured I ought to just…check and make sure everything was okay."
Aha! Her name is Emily.
"Will," the-girl-called-Emily said, the relief apparent in her voice. "How kind. As it so happens, you have the world's most impeccable timing. This prat…" She swung the door open wide to reveal the rest of the room - and a very contrite Allan - to Will. "…says he climbed through my window last night thinking it was yoursand spent the night lounging on my sofa. Says he's a mate of yours?" She drummed her fingernails sharply on the door.
Will stood in the doorway, goggling at Allan in disbelief. "…Allan?"
Allan grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "What can I say, mate?"
"What were you thinking?" Will gasped, stepping gingerly into the room.
"I wasn't," Allan replied. "That's the point! I was three sheets to the wind, wasn't I? Didn't have a clue what I was doin'…"
"Gave me quite a fright," Emily pointed out…rather unnecessarily, Allan thought.
Will shook his head weakly. "Only you, Allan. Only you." He turned to Emily and looked at her apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Em. It won't happen again. Will it, Allan?" He glared at Allan as he said the last bit.
Allan shook his head emphatically, the very picture of remorse.
"Right, well," said Emily, looking back and forth between the two of them with a look akin to amusement on her face. "I'll thank you to get out of my flat, then, so I can make my tea in peace."
Will gave her a little half-smile, and then strode forward, took Allan sternly by the shirt, and yanked him toward the door.
Allan turned in the doorway and looked back at Emily. "See you around, I suppose," he joked. "Emily." She glared at him, but there was something resembling mirth in her eyes now. The anger and the fear were long gone. Allan grinned. Will rolled his eyes and shoved Allan unceremoniously through the doorway.
"Well, it's not likely that I'll be able to avoid you forever, is it?" Allan heard Emily ask wryly. "After all…you know where I live." He turned to flash her one last grin as she began to close the door, and she rolled her eyes at him. "Remind me never to leave my window open again." And with that, she shut the door smartly in his face.
"Wipe that idiot grin off your face, Allan, or I'll do it for you," Will said exasperatedly, taking Allan by the shirt once more and guiding him firmly down the hallway to his own flat. "You plonker."
But he didn't make good on his threat, and Allan A Dale couldn't stop smiling all day long.