A Night To (not) Remember

"Wha…?" How did you end up back in your apartment? The last thing you remember was dancing in circles with your friend Kitty. It probably wasn't the most professional thing you had ever done, but after midnight, those political parties get surprisingly crazy. Not to mention that this was no ordinary party. It had been hosted to celebrate Kitty's recent election as the Mayor of New York. She had worked so hard and now mutants in the Manhattan tristate area had a backbone in political dealings. You also remember the flood of fizzy, fruity, and girly drinks you had consumed, unfortunately.

You carefully roll over your bed to the edge (apparently you went to bed with your ball gown on) and grope for the alarm clock. The shades are thankfully closed, but this meant you have only your sense of touch to go by. Your fingers first come in contact with your glasses, almost knocking them off the stand, but catch them just in time and shove them on your face.

You reach out again, still searching for the clock when your fingers bump into something completely unfamiliar. The object is smooth and cool, stiff leather with protrusions at either end and two holes equal distance from each other. At first you think it's your mask from the masquerade party, but then you remember that you went as Belle and your mask is smaller, made of cloth, and has beads embroidered on it.

You click on the soft reading lamp on the bedside table and observe the beastly mask sitting on the table. "

"Where did that come from? Did I steal it? Oh no, how drunk did I get?!"

In a flash, memories pop up, the mask now becoming familiar. You had seen it last night at the ball.

The horns seen above the heads of the other dancers, cutting through the crowds.

Strong arms were around you, sweeping you around, leaving a wide path on the dance floor.

Charming blue eyes shone with mirth from behind the mask, your sides hurting from your own laughter.

They were only bits and pieces, but it was better than nothing. You must have taken this from your mystery companion sometime in the night.

"Shoot, it's way too late to return it now. Maybe I can have Kitty check the guest list or with the photographer later." There was nothing to be done now. You might as well get on with the day and leave the mysterious dance partners to the dreams.

20 minutes later, you're washed, clean, and warm in your favorite slouchy shirt and sweats. You amble down the hall, yawning and stretching, still tired from the night before. Before you can reach your little kitchen, a loud snore scares you from your content state.

You look around wildly, confused and startled. It's coming from the couch in your living room. Tip-toeing around the corner, you feel your jaw hit the ground. Laying spread-eagled on the tiny futon in your apartment, snoring logs that would make a lumberjack jealous, is the Ambassador of Mutant Affairs, Henry McCoy.

BAM! Another memory hits you.

You're at your front door, you can barely stand, and your legs are so tired, right down to your little piggy toe. You giggle and wiggle your freed toes, having abandoned your heels back at the party. Henry glances down, a quizzical eyebrow quirked. You just point down and wiggle your toes again.

"This little piggy did not go wee wee wee all the way home!" You snort. He chuckles as he finally manages to get your door open which was probably hard considering he's half-carrying you at the same time.

"You don't have to go, you know. New York can be a dangerous place for a woman like me." You joke. "Y-you can staaaayyyyy…" You trail away into a yawn.

"Perhaps not in the way you think, my dear. But, if you insist, I shall stay only to keep pirates from stealing you away from my side." Your head snuggles deeper into his arm, exhaustion forcing your eyes closed.

The next thing you knew, you're being tucked into your bed, covers up to your chest. But instead of joining you, Henry starts to stand up, most likely feeling it's more appropriate to sleep elsewhere. Before he leaves, you grab his hand. As he bends down to ask what was wrong, you lean up and press your lips to his. "Soft…" is all you whisper as you lay back down and fall asleep, not seeing Henry's surprised face.

You gasp loudly, not realizing HOW loud you are. With a start, Hank sits up, just as confused and disoriented as you had been when you awoke.

"Umm… Would you like breakfast?" You stammer, hoping that he doesn't remember last night. He seems to find it easier to reorient himself than you had and quickly agrees, brushing down his rumpled clothes.

Later, with coffee tucked in both your hands, you both sit at your breakfast bar, you on one side standing and him in the seat opposite of you. Finally, you can no longer take the silence.

"Look about last night, I'm so sorry; it was very inappropriate to kiss you…" Your voice breaks on the word 'kiss'. You are surprised to hear a low chuckle from Henry.

"My dear, it's quite alright, you were not in the right mind, and I do not blame you." Now you can hear a tinge of bitterness in his voice. Well you aren't having any of that!

"I was wondering if you would like to try it again, with a date tonight first?" You boldly ask, praying that you weren't wrong about the attraction you feel between you two. He stares, stunned and then grins warmly.

"That would be quite lovely." He reaches across and holds your hand in his. You smile in return and blush into your coffee, butterflies doing loop-de-loops in your stomach at the thought of the night ahead.