Title: Sorelli's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night/Christine's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning
Fandom: PotO on Crack
Characters: Christine, Sorelli
Prompt: 080. Why?
Word Count: 660
Rating: T+
Disclaimer: Don't own the prompts and I don't own Phantom of the Opera or any of the products, people, places or media referenced in the context of this fic. I'm doing this for fun, not making any profits.
"Psst, Christine?"
No response.
"Christine?"
Nothing.
A final, "Christine!" and a shake of her shoulder managed to rouse the blonde girl from slumber.
Christine squinted up at the figure bending over her bed. For a moment, she had no idea who was trying to wake her up, she had only been at school a few weeks and it was hard to immediately identify shadowed figures in a dark bedroom at six o'clock in the morning. After a second of confused blinking, she recognized the impatient expression as belonging to no one other than Sarah Sorelli.
"Whaduhywan?" Christine mumbled half into her pillow. "Izzadormonfire?"
"Huh?" Sorelli asked, clearly not having the patience for this nonsense. "Uh, no, no fire. Um. I hate to bother you, but I need you to drive me to CVS."
Why, was the only question Christine had. Why, on God's green earth would Sorelli need to go to CVS at six on a Saturday? As if to sweeten the deal, Sorelli added, "I'll buy you breakfast. Please? I don't have my own car."
This was true. Sorelli did not have her own car. But it did not immediately follow that she should expect to use Christine's car. "Why?" Christine asked, still not entirely awake.
"Um," Sorelli paused significantly, color rising faintly in her cheeks. "I kinda...need to get some Plan B. That's not against your religion, is it? I mean, you know what it is, don't you?"
Honestly, Christine had no idea if the morning after pill was against her religion (it probably was), but even so, she wasn't using it and didn't care. And why did everyone think because she was a regular church-goer, she was also an idiot. She watched television, she watched Lifetime for crying out loud, every other commercial was for Plan B. She didn't even wear a cross necklace since she thought those were tacky, so why had she become the unofficial Mother Theresa of this group?
Sighing, she rolled out of bed and started groping around for the jeans she abandoned the night before. No way she was putting on fresh jeans without a shower. "Birth control failure?" she asked rhetorically, since, yeah, probably a BC fail if Sorelli needed to go to CVS this badly.
"Not...really," Sorelli said, wiping off her smudged makeup, the ultimate sign of a late night out. "Remember that guy I was talking to this week?"
"Ronnie from New Jersey?" Christine asked, recalling the heavily muscled, heavily tanned gentleman she found flipping through CosmoGirl while Sorelli got ready to go out on...Tuesday.
"No, this was a different guy, Ryan, he and Ronnie are in the same frat," Sorelli clarified. "We were playing Rock Band and one thing led to another – and he seemed normal enough, he really did. Um, but after we...finished and he pulled out, and then, right hand to God, he hunkered down and yelled up my vag, 'SWIM BOYS! SWIM FOR YOUR LIVES!' I think he was trying to be funny."
Christine paused mid-way though pulling on a t-shirt, "Um, no. Not funny for you if his little swimmers live. What did you do?"
"Uh, I left," she replied, grabbing her purse and tapping her foot near the door while she waited for Christine to find her car keys. "And walked back. Better to be safe than sorry, I figure. Guys like that might be poking holes in the condoms, you never know."
No, you never did know, Christine supposed. And she supposed that she could take getting awakened at an ungodly hour if it meant Sorelli's peace of mind would be preserved.
Still...she supposed she could be forgiven if, the next time her roommate had a late night out, she too spent the night away from the dorm. Why deprive Meg of the opportunity to be a good Samaritan, after all?
