A/N: Hey, everyone. This is just a little filler chapter until shits get serious at the party in the next chapter. Hope you enjoy. :P

"Still no text message?" Clarke says as she walks from their bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a white towel.

Raven grumbles in defeat, tossing the phone aside and laying back first on the bed to stare at the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing she's ever seen. "Not yet."

She's still waiting for a text from Spencer ever since she sent her one this morning, she doesn't know why she's got a sudden interest in expecting instant replies, it's not like she's keeping track of the time or anything-

Although if she did have to approximate how long it's been; it would be about three hours, forty-nine minutes. Maybe.

"Rae," Clarke laughs, scooting next to Raven on the bed, leaning on her side to face Raven. "You know she could be at work, right?"

Raven rolls her eyes, not meeting her best friend's look. Immediately hating herself for what's about to come out of her mouth, "well, even if she was, she would have texted me back by now. She usually sends me one on her way to work."

Clarke blows out an over-dramatic whistle, something that Raven really isn't appreciating right now. "Boy, you've got it bad."

"What?" Raven says defensively, shooting up to lean on her elbows and sends Clarke a glare. "I do not have it bad."

"You've been moping all morning over this." Clarke reminds her, a smirk toying on her lips.

Yeah, doesn't mean anything.

"Shut up, I haven't been moping. I'm just worried about her."

Half lies, half-truth on the being worried about her, though. Where the fuck is she? Had she crossed a line last night?

"I don't know why you're worried. Things seem more than fine last night." Clarke winks.

Raven shakes her head, smiling to herself. Yeah, things did seem more than fine last night. She can't deny how incredible it felt to have the power to leave someone dumb struck on the middle of the dance floor. It did amazing things for her confidence, anyway. Even if she won't air the confession out loud; it was fun and exhilarating being so close to Spencer, working her body and seeing how wound up she could make Spencer.

The kiss on the cheek was for Raven's benefit, though.

Hands up to that internal confession.

There is a movement interrupting her daze, Clarke's hand waving in front of her eyes, attempting to bring her back down to reality. Raven blinks, re-focusing on the movement and turns her head to look at Clarke, trying to remember which part of the conversation they were at. Was there a question involved in there somewhere?

Clarke looks amused, rolling her eyes with a grin planted on her face. "You. Got. It. Bad."

"I don't." Raven replies, sternly, confidently. Anything to keep her best friend at bay. There's no time for crushing, she's here on a mission.

"Say that to the dopey smile on your face." Clarke shoots back, bringing her finger up to press against Raven's cheek.

Damn that smile.

Raven swats at her finger, glaring at her best friend which earns her a giggle in return. "So, last night was fine. But, that doesn't mean it's not fine today. Maybe I pushed it too far?"

"Or she could be at work." Clarke reminds her, moving from the bed to stand up to throw on some clothes.

Raven looks away to give her privacy, finding her phone in the process to stare down at it. The minutes are still counting, still no sign from her fake girlfriend. "Work or not, still no text. Do you think I should ring her?"

"You can look now," Clarke tells her which Raven obeys to, looking at her best friend and frowning, awaiting her advice. "Listen, Rae, if she is panicking and avoiding you, give her some time and space."

Raven sighs, biting her lip. "You're right."

"I'm always right." Clarke replies, smugly, brushing through her damp hair.

Raven picks up Clarke's pillow, aiming for Clarke as she throws it. "And you're always an idiot."

Clarke's laugh echoes through the hotel room. "Yeah, I guess that's one of the cons of our friendship, you're stuck with this beautiful idiot for the rest of your life. Now get ready, I need food."

Raven smiles, feeling proud of the fact that Clarke would always be around. Even if anxiety is playing tricks on her mind right now, she's always got this idiot by her side.

After a quick stop in the nearest restaurant they could find that served breakfast (they had found a Wetherspoon's near their hotel) and after demolishing the food that was placed in front of them, (earning a few curious glances from customers who were sat around the restaurant watching them with their fast-paced eating skills), the pair found themselves walking around the shops that are located nearby to find British souvenirs to take home to their friends and family.

Octavia had texted them constantly over the last few days, especially late at night when she forgot that there is a time difference happening between them, wanting updates since she's found out about Raven's new 'relationship'. And to not-so-subtle constantly reminding them of bringing back a present (or more so presents) to her. In exchange of what Octavia would remind them of "for missing out on all the juicy gossip. Why did you guys not pull me out of college and take me there with you?"

Raven can only imagine Octavia's pout and puppy dog eyes behind the text messages.

Raven's not so confident that England would survive with an over excitable Octavia Blake running free around the country. God, even the American citizens can't cope with her.

Octavia is wild, open-mouthed and too care-free for her own good.

How Lincoln copes with being so patience with O's behaviour is beyond her.

Saints do exist after all.

"Rae, look at this." Clarke says, giggling like a teenager in the corner of the store. In her hand, she's holding up a small square packet. As Raven edges near her, eyeing her best friend warily, she sees what the packet is. And just for a running commentary, Clarke continues to explain. 'It says 'want to see my big Ben?'" Clarke splutters through breaths of giggling.

A condom packet.

She's holding a condom packet whilst giggling to herself like a moron.

Ignoring the scoffing from a passing customer, an elderly snobby woman with grey hair, Raven barks out a loud laughter as she eyes up the rack which holds other condoms. "This is incredible. Have you seen this one? It's got a Scottish man holding bagpipes, and says 'blow my pipe.'"

Clarke takes a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing, tears rolling down from her eyes. "I think we should get them Lincoln, something to surprise O with."

"You're kidding right? We would need an unlimited supply with how they go at it like rabbits. All these wouldn't be enough for them."

"Excuse me." The snobby old woman interrupts, face full of disgust. "Can you refrain from your vulgar language, please?"

"That wasn't vulgar, lady. That was me being pleasant." Raven replies, grabbing hold of some of the condom packets to take with her.

"Still," the woman tuts. "That isn't very ladylike of you."

Raven looks at Clarke, rolling her eyes. Clarke on the other hand, is trying to be on her best behaviour now, holding back her laughter.

"I'm sorry, Madam," Raven says, sarcastically, "I didn't know we still are in the 16th century. Please forgive me."

"Okay, let's go before you get into a fight with an old woman." Clarke warns, pulling her away by her arm.

"I think you should learn some manners, young lady." They hear the woman say, patronisingly, as they walk over to the counter.

"Yeah, well, I think you need some of these condoms yourself and learn how to get laid. It might make you not so uptight." Raven shouts back, flipping her off with her spare hand.

The shop assistant they are now approaching raises an eyebrow at Raven's behaviour.

Raven smiles ever so sweetly in return as she places down the five packets of condoms on the counter.

It is near one in the afternoon and there is still no reply from Spencer.

Which is only making Raven feel more irritable. If Spencer was at work, she would have messaged on her lunch break, right? Like she usually does, so why isn't she today?

They're sitting outside a coffee shop drinking coffee, a much-needed break from their successful shopping adventure this morning. Clarke is in her own world, taking pictures with her camera which leaves Raven staring down at her phone, contemplating her next actions.

To ring or not to ring?

It's not like they're in a relationship or hell, even actually dating for that matter. But, they're friends, right? Friends don't ignore each other for no reason, right?

Well, friends don't exactly seductively grind their body up against the other said friend after drinking alcohol either, but hey, that's irrelevant.

Or flirt.

Well, sometimes friends do flirt but in a harmless way.

Still irrelevant to her point.

So, why is Spencer avoiding her?

It's not like they had sex, for fuck sake. They didn't even kiss. It's not really crossing a line if they didn't do anything but dance, right? On the other hand, she could see why Spencer could potentially be freaked out; their deal on this pretend relationship didn't involve affection of any kind outside of the parameters of looking like a couple at this party tomorrow.

Well, Spencer shouldn't have challenged her.

Or called her shy in the first place.

Raven Reyes is not shy. No thank you.

"You should call her." Clarke advises, eyes no longer behind the camera, her coffee placed in between her hands.

Raven frowns at the idea. Not wanting to come across as needy or desperate, but her mind needing some clarification as to what's going on. "Do you think?"

"You're going to end up driving yourself insane if you don't."

And she'll be going against every rule she put in place after Anya had left her if she does.

Rule number 1: Don't ever chase after a girl again. They're not worth it.

Kind of a bitter rule, really, wasn't it? But, it's a rule formed to protect her at all costs.

"My rules, Clarke." Raven reminds her, sighing as she takes a sip of her own drink.

"Seriously?" Clarke laughs, putting down her drink on the metal table in front of them. "You made those rules when you were sad and drunk Raven, they shouldn't count now."

Oh, but they do.

Raven groans, leaning her elbows on the table and bringing her hands up to meet her forehead, massaging her temples. "Ugh, I don't know."

"Anyway, aren't them rules put in place, so you don't go after another woman? I thought you said you didn't have it bad."

Raven shoots her head up, glaring at the blonde. "I don't."

"Don't have to follow the rules then if they don't apply." Clarke replies, wriggling her eyebrows, innocently.

Good point. 10 points to Griffindor.

Raven smiles in return, thanking Clarke for her wisdom. Picking up the phone from the table, Raven takes a deep breath and exhales, pressing the dial button and bringing the phone to her ear.

The ringing goes straight through to voicemail and Raven clicks off the call and frustratingly throws her phone aside on the table.

Spencer wakes up from her heavy sleep, irritatingly, to the sounds of continuous buzzing from underneath her head. By awake, it's more like blindly searching for the source of irritation with her hands whilst her eyes are still closed; not quite wanting to wake up to reality yet.

Whoever the culprit is who is trying to wake her from such a nice sleep is going to pay.

Spencer reaches out underneath her head, grabbing hold of her phone and attempts to either make the buzzing stop or successfully answer it without having to open her eyes.

Whoever is on the other end of the call came through, their voices sounding like a distant whisper. Spencer brings the phone up to her ear to hear better.

"Miss Hastings?" The man says over the phone, it's a familiar voice, she knows it from somewhere, but her brain isn't able distinguish who it belongs to.

"Hmph?" Spencer replies, although the reply sounds a lot better when she thought of it, the words 'who is this?' didn't come out correct.

"Hi, just calling from the office as to why you're not in today. We had no calls from you to say why you're not able to come into work."

Oh.

Spencer sits up straight on the settee in a wild panic, disorientating herself in the process. The fast movement made her stomach churn in knots. That will have to wait a moment though, there's more alarming things at risk – first, why did she not wake up for work? Did she not set her alarm? She always sets them before she sleeps. Hell, she even sets alarms in between the other alarms as a precaution.

Fuck.

"Miss Hastings?"

"I – uh – was up most of the night being sick? I must have overslept or else I would have called." Spencer says – lying - well, somewhat of a lie any way. If the truth has any resemblance, she does feel sick now after moving too quickly.

"I shall make a note of it, Miss Hastings and pass it onto your manager. We hope you feel better and catch up on some much-needed rest. Take care."

"Yeah, thank you. Bye." Spencer replies, shutting off the call and sighs.

Spencer looks around her apartment which doesn't meet her usual standards of clean and tidy; there is a takeaway box on her coffee table with a half-eaten kebab in from last night. Her t-shirt, jeans and shoes are laying around the floor, with Nala sleeping peacefully in her t-shirt.

The smell of the remaining kebab is making her stomach swirl, creating a chaos inside. She needs to run now to safety before the kebab she tried to digest the night before makes a reappearance.

Jumping over the mess she created last night on her floor with Nala cocking her head up in confusion, Spencer makes a dash for her bathroom, head down the toilet whilst her stomach takes revenge on her.

That'll teach her not to drink on a school night.

Spencer Hastings:
Did I ever tell you how evil alcohol is?
You see, religious people find Satan the master
of all evil. They're wrong; vodka triumphs that.

"Spencer's finally awake," Raven says to Clarke, feeling relief overcome her body now Spencer has finally texted her back. Raven smiles, looking down at her phone and types a message back.

Raven:
Obviously, someone can't handle
their alcohol. Are you okay? Did you
call in sick? Sorry if you have.

"Wow, for a moment there I thought we would have to start planning funeral arrangements." Clarke laughs, looking up from her phone. "How is she feeling?"

Spencer Hastings:
The receptionist called me to
see where I was. I. Am. Dying.
The food from last night is
haunting me. Send help. Call
111, it is an emergency.

Raven shakes her head, amused by the over-dramatic message and passes the phone over to Clarke for her to see. "Who would have thought she was a hypochondriac?"

"Yeah, no kidding. And I thought my hangover was bad." Clarke replies, handing the phone back to Raven.

"Think we should go and help?" Raven suggests, biting down on her bottom lip to stop the smile from spreading.

"Is it going to make you less mopey?" Clarke shoots back, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"How many times-"

"-You aren't moping. Yeah, yeah, I got it." Clarke replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "In answer to your question; we could take some food to her if she wants? Besides, it's getting cold out here."

"I'll ask first." Raven replies, typing away on her phone.

Raven:
I didn't think you would be so dramatic.
Who would have thought this was
a side of the great Spencer Hastings?
P.s, do you want us to save you? We
can bring food and coffee.

Spencer turns off the power to her shower, feeling a little bit more refreshed than she did fifteen minutes ago. Her head is still pounding, her stomach slightly at ease now but it still feels like a volcano that is just dying to blow up any second. On the positive side, she no longer smells like alcohol or like grease.

The lingering taste in her mouth needs to go though.

With a towel wrapped firmly around her naked body, Spencer walks over to her bathroom sink, getting to work on brushing her teeth. After that, she walks into her bedroom to find any comfortable clothes; any clothing that is extra baggy on her would be amazing. Throwing on a plain white t-shirt, pyjama bottoms and an extra baggy hoodie that she purchased for the cold, winter nights of England; Spencer feels better instantly.

She walks into her living room, working on the task of cleaning the mess up and making it look a little bit more presentable for her guests that will be arriving soon. The smell in the air is making her stomach churn again - that take away smell needs to go. Pronto.

The containers thrown away in the bin and dirty clothes put away in the washing machine, Spencer lights up a scented candle on her coffee table before walking into the kitchen to switch on the kettle, in hope to get a fix of coffee into her system; she feels like a zombie despite the long amount of sleep she managed to get.

It's been years since she's had a hangover and now she remembers why.

She can't handle the aftermath of drinking, even if last night has been incredible.

Last night was definitely worth the lingering headache and tarnishing her perfect records of punctuality at work.

Hell, she would even risk drinking every night if it meant having Raven dance against her body like that again.

Worth it. Definitely.

A knock on the door pulls Spencer away from the memory; she walks over to the front door, unlocks and opens it to be presented with just Raven standing there, who looks like she's been swimming in her clothes. Raindrops are dripping from her head, her clothes soaked through and Spencer can't help but light up with a toothy smile when Raven hands out the bag of food in one hand and a cup holder containing two drinks in the other.

"This is for you," Raven says, holding out her hands, matching Spencer's smile. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm feeling better now, thank you," Spencer replies, taking the products and holding the door open with her foot. "How's the weather?"

Raven glares at her, pulling at her own clothing to demonstrate how soaked through she is. "Pretty fucking wet."

"I can see that," Spencer nods, smiling. "Feel free to change into some of my clothes, I'll put yours in my dryer."

"Thank you." Raven sighs with relief, rushing into Spencer's bedroom to change into dry clothing.

"No problem." Spencer shouts back, putting the food and drinks down on her kitchen counter and takes a generous sip of the coffee that Raven has brought her.

Heavenly; that's how it feels as the coffee slips down her throat. Heavenly. That's how it feels, seeing Raven again; Raven flashing that brilliant smile.

She could get use to this feeling.

"There's tablets in the food bag." Raven shouts from Spencer's bedroom.

Spencer opens the brown bag to peek inside and finds a ham salad sandwich and a box containing tablets. Spencer opens the box, popping out two tablets from the strip and grabs herself a glass of water to swallow the tablets with. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Raven says, walking in from the bedroom door, dressed in a pair of Spencer's blue flannel pyjama bottoms and one of Spencer's black running vests. "Can I use a towel? My hair is pretty wet."

Spencer's heart begins pounding in her chest as she stares at the woman in front of her, absorbing in the beautiful sight. "Uh," Spencer croaks out unintelligibly, "bathroom."

Raven nods slowly, laughing. "Thank you."

Spencer's cheeks burn up with embarrassment and mutters 'you're welcome' as she watches Raven walk into her bathroom.

You're an idiot. You're an idiot. You're an idiot.

"How's the hangover?" Raven asks as she walks back into the living room area, bent forward slightly as she wraps the towel around her hair.

Spencer trains her eyes not to drop to the revealing cleavage and saves herself from struggling by turning her head away to look at anything else she can find, heat building up her neck. "Um, my head is pounding, and my stomach feels like it's going through the wars. How about you?"

"I'm fine, I feel sleepy though. Me and Clarke have been shopping all morning." Raven replies, hair wrapped up firmly within the towel, her body is up straight again; safe for Spencer's eyes to fix back on to the brunette.

"How are you so fine?" Spencer asks, a beat of silence passes by and Raven's smirk hits her with realisation of what she's said. "I meant your head, Raven."

"Let's just say I'm a professional at it now. If you have friends like Clarke and Octavia, you train yourself up to handle your alcohol."

Spencer nods, mind flashing back to last night when Clarke kept offering more shots. "I understand, Clarke's pretty wild."

Raven laughs, "If you think Clarke is bad, wait until you meet Octavia. You'll be hospital ridden."

"I'm never drinking again," Spencer replies, shuddering at the thought of alcohol but her mind replaying the moment on the dance floor again. Okay, so she's lying to Raven about that: she would drink again. Over and over. Hell, she would consider turning into an alcoholic if it meant having Raven dance up on her again. Spencer shakes the dangerous thoughts away, changing the conversation. "Where is Clarke, anyway?"

Raven walks over to the kitchen counter to pluck her drink from the holder and then walks over to the sofa, sitting herself down and getting comfortable. "At the hotel, she's exhausted from our day of shopping."

"I don't blame you both for being exhausted, I've been awake less than an hour and I still feel like I could sleep another eight hours."

"Then come sit?" Raven says, patting the space beside her. "We can watch some television and chill out."

Spencer walks over to the spare seat on the sofa, putting some decent amount of space between them and flicks on the television with her remote. "What do you want to watch?"

"You choose." Raven replies, leaning against the side of the sofa, feet up and spread over Spencer's lap.

Not so decent amount of space after all, Spencer thinks to herself with a smile on her face.

It takes only thirty minutes into the first murder documentary before Raven falls to sleep on the settee beside her; she really wasn't kidding about being exhausted from shopping. The apartment is chilly as the rain pounds against the windows, cold enough to make the hairs on Spencer's arms spike up. Spencer slowly lifts Raven's feet that are laying on her lap, careful not to wake the sleeping woman and stands up from the settee, on the search for a blanket.

She picks up the thin blanket that's spread over her bed sheet and walks back into the living room to find Raven still in the same position, snoring softly.

Spencer lifts Raven's legs again in order to find her previous sitting position, takes a seat and places Raven's legs back down on top of her thighs before laying down the blanket over them both.

Raven quietly mutters something unintelligibly as she wraps the blanket tightly around herself, leaving Spencer with a little portion of blanket on her side. Spencer rolls her eyes, smiling to herself, even though she'll now be cold anyway; the small smile on Raven's face as she's wrapping herself up in a ball of warmth comfort is adorable. She'll brace the cold for this sight any day of the week.

Spencer lifts Raven's legs again just so she can lay side-wards in the little space behind Raven's lower back, leaning on her elbow with her head resting on the palm of her hand; just high enough to see the television from her position, and wraps Raven's feet over her for some more source of warmth.

"Spencer," Raven grumbles quietly. Spencer leans her head up to look at Raven's face and finds her eyes are still closed. "Move up, if uncomfortable."

"I'm fine." Spencer assures her even if her elbow is already starting to ache.

"Don't make me come and move you." Raven warns, sleepily, almost as frightening as a small puppy trying to growl.

"Easy on the violence," Spencer laughs, lifting the blanket up and shuffling up to lay behind Raven's body, her arm now aching now for other reasons; wanting to wrap around Raven's body and steal her warmth. "This better?"

"Mm," Raven mutters, grabbing hold of Spencer's hand to wrap it around her stomach. "Better."

Spencer shyly smiles, her cheeks burning up. "I'm glad. Go back to sleep now."

"Ni-night." Raven sighs, shuffling her body closing to Spencer's front and linking their hands together to lay over Raven's stomach.

"Sweet dreams." Spencer whispers, laying her forehead against Raven's shoulder blade and closes her eyes, smiling wildly to herself at the outcome of today.

Drinking on a school night? Worth it.

The cure of hangovers, you ask? Cuddling with the woman you're crushing on; it works wonders. Making it the perfect antidote.