Just before the two month mark; smooth, non?

But I apologize for my tardiness, but I've been busy - work and all. And I also apologize for both the length and quality of this chapter, it's basically a filler just to show that I haven't forgotten about this fic. But I do not and will not apologize for toast! Annnyway.

The lyrics at the beginning are from the Swinging Blue Jeans song, "Hippy Shake", why I hear you asking? Well, I just felt like putting something irreverent in, plus I was listening to it.

This part is dedicated to all the hard-working staff at JD Wetherspoons pubs across the country, we're going to get screwed this weekend, cheers.

Chapter 12

Well, now you shake it to the left,
Shake it to the right,
Do the hippy shake shake
With all of your might oh baby

I judder awake, pleased to be away from the boogieman that had been chasing me during my slumber, and snuggle deeper into my pillow. That is until I notice two things about said pillow, the first is that its' breathing and the second, that it's not a pillow and I am in fact snuggling my face deep into Spencer's breasts. Oh yeah, I'm a smooth operator. I roll myself away from her petite frame and rub at my eyes, muting a yawn as I search the room for a clock. My eyes fall on the red LED display to my right and I squint trying to recall what day of the week it is. Friday was yesterday so today is Saturday, bingo! Saturday; being up at 6:09 on a Saturday must be against the law. I wonder if I can sue the chirping birds outside that woke me, hmm.

Spencer stirs beside me and lightly rolls into me, sighing as our bodies collide she lets out a soft snore and rubs her nose into my shoulder. She used to do the same all the time when we were younger, as if she were looking for the perfect spot, even in sleep.

A car alarm goes off down the street and I throw myself out of Spencer's warm bed, leaving the blonde behind.

Is there anything nicer than waking up in a warm bed and realizing you don't have to get up for anything at all, all day? I think not! The only thing is… I bolt up in bed; I didn't go to sleep in a bed last night, what the fudgecake? My eyes rest on the tangle on blankets by my computer desk then fall upon the tepid glass of water on my nightstand. I sigh and fall back onto my mattress, hearing the light crumple of paper behind my head, I push a hand between my pillow and my head and retrieve a piece of plain printer paper. I turn the paper over in my hands, once, twice, then a third time, blinking rapidly, urging my eyes to focus on the handwriting, the ink colouring the paper, hoping that it reveals some deep part of Ashley's psyche that she wouldn't dare voice to anyone. Ever.

It doesn't. It simply says "Thanks". Thanks for what I don't know. Thanks for letting her sleep here, thanks for not kicking her out, thanks for kissing her back, thanks for not trying to hump her whilst she slept? She doesn't say. Just, Thanks.

Ashley Davies – The Original Enigma. I thought she was as deep under my skin as humanly possible, then she has to turn up drunk on my doorstep. I'm too non compos mentis for this. I let my body sink deeper into my mattress and let my body surrender to slumber again.

There's nothing wrong with having a lie-in on a Saturday, especially if you've got Ashley Davies plaguing your thoughts.