So now that Let's Play just went on break before Season 3, I couldn't help but think of what could happen where we were left off. I'm so excited for the new season, but I do hope Mongie takes all the time she needs for a break and gets to binge-watch all the Netflix she wants. (May I suggest… Peaky Blinders?)

Anyway, like let's get on with it!

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Sam woke with a start, groaning as a throbbing pain came roaring to life in her head. It was so sharp and heavy it actually made her feel congested, and she sniffed feebly as she struggled to sit up. What on Earth? she thought to herself, trying to get her bearings. Why am I in so much pain? Looking around her, she quickly realized she wasn't in her apartment and a panic set in. Throwing the sheets off her (they were a far better quality than her own, she couldn't help but notice), Sam went to a large, nearby window to try and see if she recognized where she was-but to no avail. She was high above a busy city street, and nowhere near a street sign.

The room she was in was rather plain, with a kind of minimal, modern design. Black, grey, and white. There was no television, but the room did have a chest of drawers and a nightstand next to the double bed she'd been sleeping in… a nightstand with her glasses and cellphone. On the floor next to them were her shoes and skirt. Her face reddening, she looked down at herself and realized she was only in her pants, tshirt, and the shirt Charles had lent to her-though now it had all kinds of wrinkles in it.

Charles…

Charles!

Yesterday came rushing back to her all at once (from what she could remember, anyway). They had kissed! Her face flushed whenever she replayed that moment in her head and she felt honest-to-god butterflies in her belly. Sighing, she tried thinking about what had happened after. Charles drove her to a restaurant, they ate, and then Charles started to explain what kind of relationship they could have, but things became fuzzy after that…

"I think I ordered a coffee," Sam muttered to herself, unsure. She bit at her thumbnail, tenting her brows.

Her phone chimed, startling her out of her train of thought. She sat back on the bed and picked up her phone, reading the text she'd just gotten. It was from Vikki:

Sam, at least read these texts we've all been sending so that we know you're okay. We just want to know you're alright. You never miss raids.

"No!" Sam cried loudly, frantically scrolling through her guild's group chat. Worried texts from Angela, Abe, Vikki, Olivia, and even Edgar flooded the last twelve hours of the chat. She almost replied immediately, but then she realized she still didn't know where she was and that would likely be the first question they had. She needed more answers about what had happened last night before she talked to anyone. She'd read the texts from everyone, so hopefully that would keep her friends' worries at bay for the time being.

Not only had they texted, but they'd also called multiple times and left about a dozen messages. Angela was the most ardent worrier, it seemed. Link even called her a few times.

A timid knock came to the door, startling her again.

"Samara?" a familiar, silky Welsh voice called from behind the door. "Are you alright? I heard a shout."

A sigh of relief escaped her and she answered quickly, "I'm fine, Charles. J-Just… trying to figure some things out here." This is Charles' apartment, she told herself, comforted. You're with Charles.

She heard him chuckle, "Yes, I imagine you are. Come on out when you're ready, bunty. I'm cooking breakfast, if you're hungry."

The thought of food both sent a wave of hunger and nausea through her, "I-I think I could eat." Her head throbbed with pain again and she cleared her throat, "You wouldn't by chance have any ibuprofen, would you?"

"I do," Charles confirmed cheerfully. "I believe I put two pills and a glass of water on the nightstand next to your phone before I put you to bed. Do you see them?"

Sam looked, and she suddenly noticed the glass and medicine, "O-Oh, yes I see now. S-Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I have to check on the stove, Samara, but you take all the time you need before you join me downstairs, alright?"

"Okay," she replied quickly, nodding (even though he couldn't see it).

Once she heard him step away from the door and descend a nearby staircase, Sam quickly went back to her phone and typed out a fast message in the group chat:

Hey, guys! I am so, so sorry about last night! I'll explain later, but I just want you all to know I'm fine. Angela, Vikki-I will call you guys in about an hour or so, okay? I have to call my landlady and make sure she looks in on Bowser. He's probably fine, but I just want to make sure. Once again, guys, I am incredibly sorry. I know Friday nights are the one night a week we can do raids together as a group and I messed that up. I won't happen again, and I'm sorry for worrying you all. - Sam

After that, Sam did as she said she would do in her text and called her landlady. She explained as casually and as vaguely as she could that she hadn't been home last night and needed someone to look in on Bowser. Hopefully she'd been convincing enough-it didn't seem like she'd raised any suspicions or concerns from Ms. Whipple, to her relief. She loved Bowser, so Sam knew she'd look in on him in any case.

With all that dealt with, Sam finally got dressed. She pulled on her skirt and removed Charles' shirt somewhat reluctantly (it was so warm!), and then slid into her flats before grabbing her phone. She took the ibuprofen and brought the glass with the remaining water with her to the door, as well as Charles' shirt. When she stepped out of the room she was struck by the fact that not only was there a downstairs below her, but there was even another floor above the one she was currently on! Wow, big place… She started towards the downward staircase, but caught herself in a hallway mirror and hurriedly tried to fix the tangles in her hair and rub the tiredness out of her eyes. Sighing at what little she was able to do for her appearance, Sam resigned and began down the stairs.

The smell from the kitchen made her stomach gurgle, and it seemed hunger had won the battle between it and nausea. Sam rounded the corner and saw Charles at work on the stove, his back to her. Something that sounded like bacon was frying in the pan before him, and she sighed pleasantly at the smell. There was a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice on the counter, as well as a plate of hot pancakes with a bottle of syrup. A French press had a steaming batch of coffee inside it. Sam's mouth watered.

Charles didn't appear to notice her yet, and she took the chance to look around. The downstairs was large and spacious with the same kind of sleek, modern decor as the guest room. A wide section of floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall next to the living area, giving a beautiful view of the busy day below.

Sam walked over towards the island where Charles had been preparing the food, and she took a seat on one of the simple, square-shaped stools. She placed his shirt on the stool next to her, and waited patiently for Charles to finish his task.

She noticed he was dressed casually in a black long-sleeved shirt and gray sweatpants. His icy blonde hair wasn't fixed in place like it usually was at work, and she could see the frames of his glasses around his ears as he cooked.

Suddenly, he turned off the stove and turned, startling when he saw her. He'd gasped some kind of Welsh phrase she didn't understand, but she didn't care because Sam found his surprise so adorable she actually giggled.

"You're a quiet one, Samara," he said, brushing the bacon onto an empty plate. "I nearly dropped the skillet."

Sam was still laughing slightly, "To be fair, you were frying bacon. Kind of hard to hear over that. Besides, a lot of people at work think you're the one that needs to wear a bell around the office."

"Is that so?" he said with a little grin, peering over his glasses with his electric blue eyes. Sam just nodded. Charles shrugged, "I suppose I've heard Umed say that on occasion." He gestured to the feast he'd prepared for them, "So, Samara, do you feel like eating? If you do, it would be good to have protein. Otherwise, I made coffee and orange juice."

Sam looked at the beautiful meal he'd just made, "Y-You really didn't have to go to so much trouble, Charles." Her face reddened a little.

Charles just made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "Nonsense. You are my guest, I'm obligated. Besides, I had the perfect excuse to try and made Jordan Bamsay's famous scrambled eggs. I think I did alright. You'll have to tell me if you're up for it." He turned and retrieved another pot off the stove, pouring the creamiest, fluffiest-looking scrambled eggs she'd ever seen onto another plate.

"Oh wow, I've always wanted to try those," Sam said, impressed. She looked at him, "You're quite the cook, Charles."

"Thank you, Samara," he said appreciatively. "But you should taste something before you pass any real judgement on my cooking."

Sam blushed, "Oh, w-well I'm sure it's all wonderful." She cleared her throat and looked up at him, "Charles, h-how did I end up at your place? What happened?"

Charles nodded, "Well, some of that is lost on me as well, concerning what happened. I went to answer a phone call when we finished dinner, and when I came back I found you finishing an Irish coffee… and thoroughly inebriated."

"You mean I was drunk?!" Sam exclaimed incredulously. "How can that be? All I did was order a coffee!"

Some kind of realization must have hit Charles then, and he shook his head, sighing another mysterious Welsh phrase under his breath. "I will be having a word with the manager of that establishment…" He sighed again, looking back at Sam, "I'm so sorry, Samara. There must have been a miscommunication with the waitress. A simple cup of coffee and an Irish coffee are not the same thing."

Sam frowned, "They're not?"

He shook his head, "No. An Irish coffee has Irish whiskey in it-a fair amount of it, if the state you were in last night was any indication."

Sam's face reddened to a deep crimson, "Oh, God…" She buried her face in her hands. "I feel so stupid!"

"Don't, bunty," Charles insisted gently. "If anyone should feel stupid it's the waitress for thinking someone ordering a coffee meant they wanted a cocktail-reguardless if the restaurant had a bar or not."

Sam was rubbing circles at her temples, her eyes closed. She sighed, "I was just trying to save some time before I went home. I didn't have time to grab a coffee from somewhere else before the raid."

"Raid?" Charles asked, confused.

Sam froze, her eyes popping open, "Um, yeah…" Her face reddened, and she shyly confessed, "Like, l-like in um, World of Warquest? M-My friends and I are in a guild that does raids together on Friday nights and it's the only night we're all able to be online at the same time. I never miss it."

"Ah, I see what you meant by 'party' now," Charles said. He chuckled.

She sheepishly scratched at one of her arms, "Y-Yeah. Sorry I fibbed a little. I was trying to hide my geeky side."

"You don't need to do that, Samara," he told her earnestly. "We already work at a software company. The lot of us are going to have some kind of 'geeky side,' as you say."

Sam nodded gratefully, "Well alright then." She thought for a second, "But wait-you still haven't explained why I wound up at your place? Why didn't you take me back to my apartment?"

Charles closed his eyes and sighed, folding his arms, "I had hoped to spare you… some of the details of last night, but it seems you are a rather… hyperactive drunk, Samara."

"Oh, no," she groaned, sinking into the stool. "What did I do? Please tell me, Charles."

"You're certain?"

Sam nodded, regretfully but resolute.

He sighed again, "Well, at first, I did plan on taking you back to your apartment, but as I was leading you out of the restaurant, your brother and his girlfriend showed up."

Dread filled her gut like cement and she gulped.

"You had become inebriated so rapidly… I've never seen anything like it. But when I saw your brother, I knew he would not accept any explanation from me whatsoever about your condition, so I had to act fast and take us out the back before he saw us," Charles explained. He picked up a plate and began serving portions of the meal he'd prepared, making sure to give her a large amount of the scrambled eggs, Sam noticed.

She sighed, "Well, I'm glad you got us out of there before he could see me. He might have called my dad if he saw."

Charles froze, "Oh dear… I hadn't considered that." He looked at her seriously, paused mid-serving of bacon, "Your friends, they didn't get worried about your absence and call your father, did they?"

Sam laughed softly, waving a hand, "Oh no, they know how crazy my father gets about my safety and health-and they know I like to maintain my independence from him however much I can, so most they know any concerns they have for me are best shared amongst themselves and not with him. The only reason they would is if I was headed to the hospital for an emergency."

That seemed to visibly relax Charles, and he went back to his task, letting out a breath, "What a relief. The man would have my head if anything were to happen to you in my care, especially now that he's on vacation."

"Vacation?" Sam repeated with an incredulous laugh. "My father?"

Charles nodded, "Yes, I'd be happy to tell you about that too-but I thought you wanted to hear the story of last night?"

She quickly nodded obediently, "Yes, please. Sorry for interrupting."

He made another dismissive gesture with his hand and placed a heavy plate of food before her, "Here you are, Samara. I hope it's to your liking. I assume you will want coffee?" His hand hovered by the French press, waiting for her reply.

Sam eagerly clapped her hands together, "Oh yes, it smells wonderful."

Charles retrieved a mug and dutifully poured her a cup, "Will you take cream, sugar, both?"

"Cream," she answered, and then chewed her lip. "Do you have any cinnamon?"

He raised his eyebrows and nodded, "I do." He got the spice and the small container of creamer for her, and then Sam fixed her coffee how she made it at work. While she didn't have the fancy caramel syrups that the coffee shop had, she could still fix a cup of coffee worthy of her palette. Charles watched her curiously, and then smiled gently when she sighed pleasantly at the taste of the fresh brew. "Hmm, I believe I shall try it that way as well. I've never put cinnamon in my coffee before," he told her. He continued his story as he began to do the same with the mug he conjured, pouring in the coffee and other ingredients, "As I was saying, I had to get you out of there fast, and it was still my intention to take you to your apartment. What I was not anticipating, however, was you still being so hyperactive in the car-so much so that it was too dangerous for me to drive all the way to your place. I had to bring you here because it was so much closer and I was far less likely to crash my car."

"Oh, my God!" Sam exclaimed. "I'm… Charles, I'm so sorry I was such a nuisance."

Charles shook his head, stirring his coffee before taking a sip, "You're no nuisance, Samara."

"Still," she said, sighing heavily. She looked at him and leaned her head against one of her hands, "Thank you for getting me somewhere safe."

"Anytime, Samara," he said with a little wink, taking another sip of his coffee. "Although, hopefully that exact situation won't happen again. I really am going to have to have a word with the manager of that restaurant. That was unacceptable."

Sam waved her hands, "Please don't! I-"

"Samara, the negligence of that restaurant could have gotten us both severely injured or even killed. They are supposed to ask for an ID when someone orders alcohol, regardless of how age-appropriate a person may look, and if they had done so you would not have wound up drinking an entire draft of Irish coffee in less than three minutes. I believe it's imperative that I inform them of what they've done and hopefully encourage them to be more diligent with their policies in the future." Charles finished with a casual shrug, taking another long sip of his coffee. "This is really delicious-cinnamon is a revelation."

Sam smiled and shook her head at him, "Something tells me you wouldn't phrase it exactly like that." He only smiled into his cup, looking over at her. Another thought came creeping into her mind, bothering her, "Charles… something still doesn't quite add up about last night."

Immediately, he became concerned, "Please, whatever I can do to ease your mind, Samara."

She began to chew on her thumb, "Well… this morning-and keep in mind, I am in no way accusing you of anything. I mean, given the way you describe I was acting last night, it would be easy to guess why it happened but…"

Charles' eyes were wider than she'd ever seen, sheer panic in them, "Samara, please, what is it?"

She took a breath, firmly putting both hands in her lap, "When I woke up this morning… I-I wasn't wearing my skirt. I just… I just wondered if you knew why that was…"

When she looked back up at him, his face was even redder than hers. He ran his fingers through his hair, "I-I assure you, Samara, nothing happened. When we arrived here last night, you were already so sleepy and I carried you up to the spare room to put you to bed. You were wearing your skirt then-all I did was help you under the covers. I then got you some headache medicine and water to drink if you woke up in the night, and then I got ready for bed myself." He met her eyes and Sam nodded for him to continue. He did, "I had just gotten into bed when I heard you coming up the stairs… I thought you needed something else, but…"

Sam listened intently, "But…?"

Charles sighed, "Not only are you a hyperactive drunk, Samara, but also an aggressively amourous one." Sam gasped and put her head in her hands again. "You had taken off your skirt, and tried to get in bed with me. You were… astoundingly assertive and insistent, but before I could even get the chance to lead you back to your bed…"

She peeked through her fingers at him, "Oh, God-what? What did I do?"

"You… vomited. Copiously. Not in my face, exactly, moreso on my feet and pajama bottoms. Then you promptly passed out," Charles said, his eyes sad at the sight of her distress over that news.

Sam crossed her arms on the table and let her forehead fall onto them. "Noooooooo," she groaned, beyond embarrassed.

"Don't worry, Samara-I cleaned it up just fine and you slept the rest of the night. I've… I've had my fair share of those moments in my life and this wasn't your fault," he told her earnestly, reaching for her hand. "Please, don't be embarrassed, bunty. I had hoped to spare you that, but you were right to inquire about your concerns." He squeezed her palm, urging her to look up at him, "Come now, let's eat breakfast before it gets too cold, okay? We'll put that silly night behind us."

Sam took a cleansing breath and raised her head, nodding sheepishly, "O-Okay." She looked up at him, "But thank you, seriously. For everything you did last night." She squeezed his hand back and smiled softly at him.

Charles' cheeks remained a light shade of pink and he matched her expression, "You're welcome, Samara."

With that, Charles fixed his own plate of breakfast and sat next to her on the island. They shared some small talk about work as they ate, and Sam had never had a more delicious breakfast in her life. The eggs were as amazing as she thought they'd be, the bacon was crispy just as she liked it, and she even had some of the pancakes-which were perfectly fluffy and topped with butter and syrup. She hummed agreeably when she finished, sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes.

"Feeling better?" Charles asked, amusedly taking a sip of orange juice.

Sam nodded, sighing pleasantly, "So much. You're a wonderful cook, Charles. Everything tasted great."

"Well, thank you for saying so," he said appreciatively. "It's not often I get to cook."

"So," Sam began after a beat, "what did you mean before about my dad going on vacation?"

Charles nodded and set down his glass of juice, "The other day, when your father was distressed about your mother going to Hawaii, I went into his office so that he and I could have a real talk. I figured there had to be a reason why he reacts so strongly about any news about your mother-or you, even. I wanted to really listen, and understand." He looked at Sam seriously, "And I did. Not only did I understand, but I empathized with him about everything that he told me." He sighed sadly, shaking his head at himself, "Looking back on the way I just dismissed as-what I perceived to be-overdramatic reactions, I now realize that they were deeply rooted in traumatic memories for him, and I feel guilty for not thinking of him sooner. Your father and I are… we're a lot more alike than I thought."

"Wow," Sam said, blinking. "That must have been some talk you guys had."

He nodded again, "It was. It wasn't a boss-to-protegee talk, or even a man-to-man talk, but more as a person-to-person talk. And, really, I just listened to him-and by the end of it, I made a bit of an executive decision on his behalf. Immediately following mine and your father's discussion, I had Lucy call your mother's agency and ask if your father could join her in Hawaii for a week or two. I had her arrange his calendar to suit that schedule… and I had your mother flown here so that they could fly to Hawaii together, because I knew he-"

Sam threw her arms around him mid-sentence, sending the island stools a bit wobbly from the action. She squeezed him tight, her eyes stinging, "Charles, that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for my dad. Thank you. I can't believe Jay and I never thought of it before." She let go slightly so she could meet his face. For the first time since she'd known Charles, he looked sheepish. "You're wonderful," Sam told him earnestly, brushing a bit of his bangs out of his face. "I don't know if you believe that about yourself or not, Charles, but I want you to know I believe that. You're wonderful."

Charles ran the back of his hand down the side of her face, lightly brushing his thumb against the apple of her cheek, "That means… so much, especially coming from you, Samara."

Sam smiled warmly at him, and there was a long pause where they just looked at each other, glad for the company. "Charles, do you have a spare toothbrush?" she blurted after a moment.

Taken aback and somewhat confused by the question, he said, "I-er, somewhere, probably. Why do you ask?"

Sam's face flushed, "Well, we just had breakfast and you said I was sick last night-but I r-really want to kiss you right now."

Charles grinned and laughed softly, "I don't care."

His mouth caught hers off-guard, but Sam quickly responded with her own, sighing against him. She embraced his neck again, and Charles slid his arms around her waist, gently tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss. Sam trembled, and Charles held her tighter. She could feel how warm and strong he was. His mouth left her lips to kiss at her jaw and then at her neck. A soft gasp escaped her, and she let her fingers run through his hair at his nape, her nails gently scraping his skin. He shivered.

When Charles came up from her neck, the look in his eyes was so hazy and hungry. Sam spoke, "I meant what I said last night."

Charles blinked, his eyes getting wide, "I… what-what do you mean?"

"When I said I wanted you, and that you were special to me," she told him.

He cleared his throat, nodding, "Ah, that-yes, well-"

"I know I'm inexperienced, Charles, and I know you're not looking for anything serious-I want you to know I understand that, and why you're hesitant to… be with me." Sam's face was flushed, but she spoke clearly and honestly with him. "But I think this vacation you've sent my dad on is a great opportunity for us to figure out how this could work, if this is what we want-don't you agree?"

He pressed his forehead to hers, "It does seem like perfect timing…"

"Then here's what I propose," Sam offered. "We take this week or two to ourselves and see if letting things 'develop organically' is possible for us. I know with my lack of experience, there might have to be some adjustments to what you're used to as far as the arrangement you laid out last night, but I'm not expecting a bouquet of roses or anything like that, so… what about one little daisy?"

Charles smiled to himself and then looked at her, "You know… a daisy might be just perfect." He brought her hand to his mouth and he kissed her fingers, "But I want you to know: a woman like you deserves roses, Samara."

Sam shrugged, brushing his bangs back with her free hand, "Roses have thorns. Daisies are cute."

"That they are," Charles agreed.

"Just think it over," she told him. "We've got some time."

Charles nodded, "I will."

Later that evening…

Sam stretched and yawned at her desk, finally logging off of World of Warquest. She looked down at Bowser, happily playing with his little princess toy. Ms. Whipple had said he was just fine when she checked on him, and had even taken him out for a little walk. Sam had also made sure to call Vikki and Angela as soon as she got home, and then messaged Abe to apologize for being absent at the raid. Even Dallas had sent her a worried IM about last night, ("u ok?"). Maybe Link urged him to do that, she thought to herself.

She was dressed in her comfy pajamas and fuzzy slippers, freshly showered and smelling like soap. It felt good to wash that crazy night off her, but she still couldn't stop replaying her first kiss with Charles in her head, as well as the one they shared in his kitchen. Despite the embarrassment of what happened the night before, she didn't want to forget either of those moments, ever. They brought a smile to her face whenever she thought about them now.

A knock on her door startled her, and Bowser began yapping excitedly. "It's alright, buddy," Sam said to him as she walked to answer it.

When she opened the door, she grinned.

Standing there was Charles: messy-haired, casually-dressed, bespectacled… and offering her a single, perfect daisy.

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Hope y'all enjoyed this little one-shot! Let me know what you think if you have the time!

Stay safe and healthy y'all,

Glacier