A/N

Set after the end of 200. Or rather, the morning after the party scene that the episode ends with.

I meant to write something yesterday in honour of Jeanne's 53rd birthday, but then I didn't have enough hours and no ideas, and now that I did write something I strongly doubt anyone would consider it an honour to have this weird stuff written for them. I for one would probably just shudder and look away. Actually, I already do. :P

Anyway. Happy belated B-day Jeanne, and I fiercely apologise for all the crap I write about your character, but she's so awesome and inspiring. *hides*


When Emily woke up she was naked in a bed in a room she had never been in before. Her head pounded with the wrath of the grain, also known as hangover, and she instinctively knew she was late for something important.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!"

She squinted at the clock and fell back against the pillows and disarrayed covers and bed sheets. 10:46. She was over five hours late to her flight back to England. She blamed that on the distraction of actual, decadent American beer and…

The second, and somewhat more serious, distraction walked into the bedroom wearing nothing but black panties and a white blouse reaching to her hips. Her thick brown hair was messed up, and her makeup was smeared, but all in all she looked like she was in better shape than Emily felt. She carried two mugs in her hands.

"Coffee?" Emily croaked, cleared her throat and tried again. Second attempt actually sounded somewhat like human speech. The other woman nodded and handed her one of the cups. The beverage was strong, teeming with caffeine, and with the addition of both cream and sugar. Normally Emily took her coffee black, but right now this was exactly what she needed.

"Hangover coffee," Alex Blake said in a voice that was only marginally less hoarse than Emily's. "I never put stuff in my coffee unless I'm hungover, but I've found that sugar and cream actually helps." She sipped her own drink. Well. Gulped it down was more like it. She shrugged as she put her cup down on the nightstand.

"Of course it could just be an excuse, but if it is, it's a subconscious one."

To Emily's eternal gratitude, she kept her voice low. Some people she had slept with over the years seemed to have an uncontrollable urge to have a screaming bout the morning after a night out, Emily thought bitterly and then had to grin to herself. Yeah, she was forty and still hadn't gotten past the collegeish drinking-too-much phase.

Way to go, Ems.

"I missed my plane," Emily groaned instead of telling her bed mate about her party trait. The other woman obviously already knew about it. "Fuck," she added, as if the word was a spell she could use to change reality.

"Yes, I know," Alex said. "So I took the liberty of booking you a new ticket. 5.40 pm."

Emily looked every bit as surprised as she felt.

"Wow, thank you. You didn't have to…"

"Oh yes, I did. Last night was…" Alex fell silent and the rest was conveyed through a rather ridiculous grin and a light shrug of her shoulders.

"I'm pretty sure you thanked me more than enough last night," Emily said, remembering the feathery kisses down her stomach and on the inside of her thighs, and how the tentative little pecks had turned into mind-blowing tongue action once the other woman had gotten more confident and reached her goal. For someone who willingly admitted that she had no experience with girls below the waist before, agent Blake had definitely risen to the occasion.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Alex said as she sat down on the bed.

"I don't. Not for several hours, at least, thanks to you," Emily said as she rolled over and began trailing her fingers down Alex's thigh. The other woman laughed softly and pushed her hand away, gently but firmly.

"Oh no, it's possible you're in much better shape than I am, but honestly, I might throw up if I move too fast right now. Also, my head is in danger of splitting. I shouldn't have had so much to drink, but really… sometimes I just can't help myself."

Emily felt a kindred spirit in this woman.

"Then just lay down next to me and we'll sleep off this hangover together," she mumbled and tugged at the fabric of her lover's blouse. Alex looked at her for several moments, considering, and then crawled into bed, pulling the covers over them both.

"I hope no furious husband is going to storm in within the next couple of hours," Emily murmured against the other woman's neck. "I don't think my head can stand the yelling such a visitor would offer."

Alex chuckled so heartily the chuckle turned into a cough, and then back into a chuckle.

"The furious husband has been out of the equation for a long, long time," she assured her bed mate. "Sleep, Emily."

As if she had put a spell on her, Emily fell asleep again.


Emily awoke two hours before her flight was due to leave DC, debated whether getting out of bed, packing, getting ready and hurry to the airport was worth it or not, when two things worked together against such a decision. Firstly, there was the harsh, cold rain rapping at the bedroom window… and secondly, there was the warmth of the arm that was draped across her hip, heavy with the weight of sleep.

"Oops, I missed the plane. Again," Emily whispered to herself and wriggled closer into Alex's sleepy embrace.

"Not if you hurry," Alex replied, still at least 90 % asleep.

"I can't hurry. I'm sleeping."

"Good."

"You have a bad influence on me, agent Blake."

"I can't discuss these things right now, I'm sleeping."

Emily grinned.

"Good."