AN: written for a challenge: "hugs, cuddles, and kisses" over on LJ. Comments are love :)
This is not where I expected to be when I woke up. Not that it isn't nice, because this is a wonderful place to be any time of any day. Very nice legs, naked legs, tangled up in mine. Naked woman spooned up against the entire length of my body with my arms wrapped around her and held tight in hers. In fact, the only problem I can think of is the hair tickling my nose. The curly black Murphy hair, which means that this warm naked body nestling up against me in my bed this morning is Connie Murphy. Not what I'd generally think of as a bad thing, really. Except, I don't know how we got here. And I really want to know the sordid details. You'd think I'd know, seeing as I'm the other naked party. It seems incredibly unfair to be here in this situation and know that this beautiful woman is going to wake up, and then I'm going to die.
Speaking of waking up.
"Harry?" Murphy mumbles, squirming against me (oh god) and yawning as she drifts awake.
"Yeah, Murph?" I ask, sticking to my usual form of address. Best not to tip her off that something is different here. Assuming, of course, that the part where we are naked and completely twined together isn't a tip off.
Murphy's eyes flutter open, and she turns in my arms to look at me. "What are we doing here?"
(Oh thank god.) "Honestly? I'm not sure. Looks like it was fun, though." I give her my best leer and roll off the bed.
"Well, at least the view is nice," Murphy says. Too late, I remember that I'm standing in my bedroom naked. In front of Murphy: woman of my dreams, and nightmares. I do hope she doesn't notice the red flush that washes down my body. But, of course, she does. And now she's laughing at me. She's so beautiful when she laughs like that, with her head thrown back and her eyes closed... oh, hey, my pants!
"Very funny, Murph," I reply, pulling on my pants and very carefully doing up the zipper. I can worry about underwear later. When my bed isn't full of naked Murphy, and I know what the hell is going on. "What do you remember?"
Murphy sighs and sinks into the mattress (nestles into my sheets). "We caught that naked guy..."
"Dwyn Imp," I correct. "We caught a Dwyn Imp."
"Fine," she snaps, "we caught the naked Dwyn Imp, and took him down to the station in the back of your jeep."
"And that's the last thing you remember?"
"That's it," Murphy replies with a frustrated sigh. "I thought I dreamed the rest until I woke up here."
Crap. Dwyn Imps were lesser demons seen most frequently around this time of year. Some lunatic named them after a Celtic god of love because they thought calling them "cupid imps" was too trite. I hadn't really expected our captive to remain caught past getting him to the station, but I hadn't thought he would hit us with his mojo on his way out of the jeep. And seeing as it was an imp-induced encounter (and these little guys pack one hell of a wallop when they want to), the incredible sex that I had dreamed about was probably actually a memory. I'm guessing Murphy is realizing this at the same time, because her eyes are widening and she is (finally) starting to blush.
"So that wasn't a dream?" she asks. Is that hope I hear in her tone? It couldn't possibly be hope.
"Um, apparently not."
"You know, Harry..." she begins, but I hear the speculation. I have to get out of this room now, so I blurt "Breakfast," at her and practically run out the door. Dwyn enchantments last longer on some people than on others, but it really should have worn off by now. The dreams, however, are going to hang around for a while. And they are such intoxicating images of skin and sweat and ... that way lies insanity. Or so I tell myself as I rummage through the cabinets looking for cereal that I know isn't there. It's not like Bob can do the grocery shopping when I'm out chasing demons.
"I don't have," I yell in Murphy's general direction, only to be stopped mid-sentence when she appears, fully dressed, at my elbow. I drop my voice and try again. "I don't have anything to eat," I say. I feel kinda silly having offered in the first place, but it's hard to feel much past that because so much of my brain is occupied with wanting desperately to lean down and kiss her. It could be a scientific kiss, just to see if it really was a dream. I could compare.
Murphy saves us both the effort when she steps back from me and smiles. "That's okay, Dresden," she says as she brushes by me and heads for the door. "I'll just grab coffee and a donut down at the station. It's going to take some doing to explain where we went after we called the naked guy in. But if you feel like testing out some of your theories later on," she says, slapping my ass as she walks to the door, "you know where to find me."
A witty come back would be great at a time like this, but there's nothing in my head but gibbering while she's walking out my door. I think now would be the time for a nice cold shower.