TAKE ME ON THE FLOOR -Uruha&Reita-

Deep sleep, that was something Uruha never had in a while. Sound and long, oh what a pleasure it was to relax in bed. 

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

And after a long night of drinking, clubbing and dancing, the sound of his alarm clock was the last thing he wanted to hear. 

With a long stretch of his arm Uruha slammed his fist on the snooze, how he hated that beeping sound, all it did was make him want to stay in bed longer.

He sighed into the silence and snuggled back down in his bed, there was a dull ache in his head but he never worried too much about a possible hangover. Pop some Advil and he'll be fine. 

But the weight on his shoulder he did notice.

Slowly, the guitarist looked down to his right and came to face messy, tousled brown hair. 

He jumped violently. Said girl was awoken by the movement and she fell off the guitarist chest and on her side. She cursed out in English and rubbed her head, completely ignoring the starting brunette. But she seemed to quickly realize that this was not her bedroom and by the change in expression from confused to horror, she seemed to also remember the previous night.

With a slow turn of her head she locked eyes with the startled guiltiest and what seemed like hours of staring each other down she let out a terrified shrike and covered her upper body with the blankets. 

Uruha screeched as well and fell completely off the bed and landed hard on his naked butt while pulling the top quilt his mother knitted down to the floor with him. 

After about three minutes of letting the hangover and shock sink into the two brunettes heads Uruha finally glanced back and his night partner and it was only now that he noticed she was foreign and even with smudged makeup and a serious case of behead, she was quite pretty. Actually, very pretty. Beautiful brown curls and deep alluring green eyes. No wonder he took her home. 

The woman placed a hand over her mouth and then other tucked her hair behind her left ear. She took two deep slow breaths through her nose and then finally glanced over at the staring guitarist on the floor. She took her hand away from her mouth and pulled her hair back from her face. “Um,” she started, Uruha momentarily thought that she might not know Japanese, but then he remembered the conversation (more like invitation) they had at the bar and shuddered. No, her Japanese was excellent. “W-where am I now?” she asked. “The address?” 

“2, Shibaura, Minato-ku.” He said. “The train station is down the block.” 

She let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Thank you.” Uruha simply nodded his head. “Um, do you know where my dress is?” She asked shyly. 

Uruha straightened up his back a bit and looked around his bedroom before catching sight of heap of crumpled black silk by his dresser. “Is that it over there?” he asked and pointed.

Her eyes followed his finger. “Yes that’s it.” She glanced around the room again, she mumbled a ‘Where’s my…’before cutting herself off and reaching down the side of the bed and pulled up something that looked like her bra…Yea, defiantly her bra. She paused for a moment, -maybe to think, Uruha figured- before wrapping the thin white sheet around her body and walked over to the dresser to pick up her dress. The woman once again looked around Uruha’s bedroom before letting out a sigh. “This is going to sound weird, but have you seen my, uh, t-thong?” she asked hesitantly with flushed cheeks.

Uruha blushed as well before look around the side of his bed, not moving too much so he wouldn’t show any parts while sober. The guitarist couldn’t see her garment but just as he was about to tell her he felt his hand lean on something really silky, really soft, and really womanly.

Uruha felt his face burn as his finger grasped the small bundle of fabric before holding it out for the woman to take. He watched her face turn a cherry red before she snatched her underwear and mumbled apologizes which only made him blush even more.

The woman pulled the blanket up around her chest further and tucked more strands of hair behind her ear. “Would I be able to use you bath room?” she asked. 

Uruha nodded and pointed to the door on the other side of his bedroom. “The on-suite is over there.” He said. The woman said her thanks and went into the bathroom. Once the door was closed Uruha let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. This was not how he thought his Saturday morning would turn out. 
 
Standing up, Uruha quickly went over to his dresser and pulled out his boxers and jeans, he slipped them on in a hurry just incase the foreign woman came out of the bathroom. Once he was zipped up he took a shirt out of the top draw and pulled that on over his head before the woman came out of his bathroom. 

Before he noticed the obvious he seen that she had cleaned up under her eyes a bit seeing how her eyeliner wasn’t smugged anymore, but her hair was still a tousled curly mess yet that was some how cute. And after he observed her face the next thing he took a strong notice to what she was wearing, or what she was lacking. The dress she wore was unbelievably small and tight, it completely hugged every curve of her body and the hem of her dress only just covered her upper thighs. 

This was certainly not appropriate daytime wear.

The guitarist cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea to wear on the train.” He suggested, thinking briefly about the poor old gentleman that would have a heart attack upon seeing the gaijin.

“I don’t exactly have anything else to wear.” She said and shifted uncomfortably on her feet. 

Uruha thought for a moment before pulling open one of his dresser draws and pulling out a pair of old navy jeans. “I never wear these anymore,” he said. “So you can take them.” 

Her eyes enlarged in size. “I can’t do that!” 

The guitarist smiled. “I insist,” he said and handed her the pants. “Oh, and,” he went into his closet and quickly scanned his selection of hoodies before pulling out an old white one. “Take this, too.” He threw over the sweater and she caught it in her arms. 

The gaijin glanced down at her clothes, the hoodie in her arms, and then back up at the guitarist. “Are you sure?” she asked, when he nodded she gave him a grateful smile before going back into the bathroom to change her clothes. 

After a few minutes she emerged out of the on-suite and Uruha had to hold back a chuckle, the jeans were slipping off her hips, the legs looked to have been rolled up at least four times and she was practically swimming in his hoodie. “Where’s your dress?” he asked.

“I still have it on.” She said and lifted up the hoodie to show the black silk that was there. “But the jeans are a bit to big.” 

“Do you need a belt?” he asked. 

She shook her head with a smile. “No, it’s okay, they’re not to bad.” She took a glance behind the guitarist’s head and watched her face eyebrows crease as she seen the time on the clock. “I have to go.” 

Uruha nodded and walked her towards the door. He leaned up against the wall as he watched her put her heels back on. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked. “Do you want me to walk you to the station?”

The woman laughed a bit and straightened her back. “That’s very kind of you but I’ll be fine.” She said and held out her hand. “You’re a sweet guy, it was nice meeting you.” 

Uruha felt his heart flutter slightly. A sweet guy. 

The guitarist smiled and took her hand, giving it a shake. “Take care,” he said as the gaijin opened his front door.

She smiled back. “You too.” She said and stepped out into the hallway giving the guitarist one last wave. “Bye.” 

“Bye.” And the door shut. 

Uruha stayed there for a few minutes, watching the door in a daze and it wasn't until after her soft foot steps faded from the hall that he finally realized something.

He didn't get her number.

Or a name.

"Fuck!"