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Nigel | Devon
Waking Woes
Tue Jan 17, 2006 23:18

“Hey, beautiful.”

Nigel couldn’t help it. He had been watching her glance about the room with a furrowed brow, as if attempting to remember what happened. Well, irregardless, he wasn’t going to forget last night for a very long time. Very—long—time.

Unfortunately, after their last bout of bed play, he had found himself unable to sleep. Yet instead of rising, and waking the woman, he had remained the gallant pillow he had been transformed into, and decided to watch Jane sleep instead. His mind wandered during that time, everything from his curriculum – which lasted a whole minute – to thoughts settling upon the enigma his arms were wrapped about. She had definitely been scary the night of Caleb and Lucy’s little Halloween get together. His sister was still pissed about Marcus going off and copping a feel on the significantly younger woman.

Then the mental perusing meandered right on over to one topic he did not have the answer to. Apparently John knew the girl; that big hulking Giant knew this tiny woman. Well, amending that in his own mind, Nigel knew she wasn’t tiny. But comparatively? So how in the hell had they known one another? Lovers seemed far too unlikely for the most painfully obvious of reasons – Sean McCafferty. Obviously not familial relations either; perhaps through work? Nigel didn’t know what John had done for a living, though if he had been a relation of Caleb’s… Okay, that was going down a path which led to nowhere. Jane involved in some secret agency muckety muck? Yeah. Right.

Nigel allowed himself a little giggle at the thought hours later, while she showered.

Then he had the utmost pleasure of watching Jane dress for the day in something that screamed ‘tom-boy’ so loudly, he was wondering if women from the GLBT were going to start knocking at the door and demand that the woman choose another outfit. Humming to himself through the entire ordeal, and returning her offered kiss, Nigel gave a little grin as she meandered out the door.

“I’ll call you sometime.”

“Oh… my… God.” It was five minutes later that the words were uttered, after staring at the ceiling in a haze of disbelief. She had just said those four fateful words that had been reserved for every man since the invention of the one night stand.

“I was used!” Pause. “Well… shit.”

Suddenly feeling wholly uncomfortable in a nameless hotel suite with not a stitch of clothing on, Nigel dove into the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, and a whole lot cleaner, he still wasn’t feeling all that much better. Gathering up his clothing, and thanking God he went commando on date nights – it always made finding your drawers a shitload easier if there weren’t any – he dressed in a flash of clothing, smelling faintly of tempting things and honeysuckle. Damn.

“Damn!” This was uttered for a whole other reason, after a garner at the digital clock near the bed. His first class of the day was in forty-five minutes, and he was at least a half-hour away from campus. No time to go home and change. He really hoped that he had left a change of clothes in his office.

Forty minutes later would have him with no such luck. Now he was stuck wearing only semi-suitable clothing to class. Oh God, why me?! This was the thing that nightmares had the potential to be conjured of. At least he wasn’t naked and lecturing the alumni. That would have been horrifying! One leather satchel and the slides for class, and he was skidding down the corridor to one of the smaller assembly rooms. Belying his age, the professor taught mostly graduate level courses, and were always a smaller class size when it came to his field.

It was undoubtedly the most nerve-wracking lecture he had ever held. The normally attentive students giggled at inopportune times; coupled with his inattentive nature this morning – it had to be the lack of caffeine – the three hour lecture was let out easily twenty minutes early. That was unheard of when it came to Professor Holmes, who could ramble on a topic so fluently you would have thought it an art form. Not thirty seconds after the students had fled, Nigel crammed his notes concerning the Battle of Adrianople into his satchel, and flew out the side door. All he wanted to do was go to his office, brew some coffee, and commiserate with Declan if he was in.

His major plan to take over the world from that very office began to unravel. Oh, the coffee was brewed, and his planner was practically torn in half while he unpacked everything. Declan was commiserated with, though the old boxer looked like he was amused instead of heartfelt. After muttering a few not-so-nice comments that had the older professor lofting a brow slowly, Nigel’s world fell apart.

“Who is she?!” No, that definitely wasn’t from our mild-manner coworker. Instead, there were a few of his students hanging in the doorway, eventually toppling inward, and bum rushing him at the desk. No! Doing his best not to snap, Nigel kept his trap shut and went about finishing his mug of coffee and getting fresh. His liberated chair had been snatched up by one of the students, and he could only sigh. He was fond of the fact that they thought they could hang out after class and not have to be brainy. But he really wasn’t in the mood.

“My chair, if you would Miss Beaumont.” Ouch. The girl in question gave a smarmy grin and spun about in the office chair, much to his dismay. How the hell had he lost control of them? When did he ever have control of them? Shit. These kids could be his coworkers come next year. “Rachel, get your happy ass out of my chair before I decide your thesis is shit.” He got a rude gesture in reply, but did have his chair back. Well, it was a start.

“Fine. You must have one hell of a hangover if you’re bitching at your favorite student.” Groans abound, and not only from the professors. Declan was watching with an amused expression on his face. Bastard. “So?” It only took one blank stare. “Who is she?!”

“I have no idea what you’re—” Nigel’s sentence stopped flat when a glossy photograph was slapped onto his desk. The scene? Taboo Club, where they had all unfortunately been last night. The image? Well, it was a bunch of party goers. But in the next photo laid beside its mate quietly, was a blown up version of the first; which detailed one startling bright frame. A woman in a slinky black dress, a man in crimson dress shirt, the pair in a lip-lock to end the ages. At least they didn’t have a photo of him groping her ass—Oh, wait. There it was. “I thought you were a history graduate?”

“Brendan likes to dabble,” Rachel managed with a grin. The man in question bowed and liberated his photographs. “So, what’s her name?” Silence answered the girl. “How long have you known one another?” Nigel went about organizing the latest essays to be graded. “Was she any good in bed?”

“That’s it! Get out!” Nigel leapt up, shoving them towards the door. Then he resorted to out-right corralling them through the entryway, managing to snatch back the photos and toss them to Declan. “Out!” Bellow.

“Ask what perfume she wears! It smells really nice on yo—” Slam.

“Oh my God. I cannot believe that just happened!” he exclaimed, looking about the room for a quick get away. Nigel wouldn’t put it past that lot to camp outside his office door making a ruckus, just to get under his skin in the good name of ‘competitive graduate-ship’. Bunch of bullshit if you asked him.

“You really should have changed, Nigel.” Declan was admiring the photographs, a few which were rather up-close and personal shots. “At least she isn’t a student.” The gentle brogue did nothing to calm his nerves at the moment. “A shame burning these won’t fix your malady.” Oh, that was a sharky smile. Glaring, he snatched his photographs back and slumped behind the desk.

“That’s it. I need a vacation.”


Devon quirked a brow and ceased his knocking, taking a deep breath before peering into the bedroom. “Sonnet? Are you—Ah.” Well, that would explain why she had been quiet so suddenly. Ass-up in a laundry basket. Stifling laughter, and hoping she had more clothing on instead of a pair of panties, he went to help the injured officer. “Here, let’s get you up.”

Up could be translated into so many different definitions! Biting back a grin, he played valiant and chaste nurse once more, hoping that the towel managed to stay slung about his hips. Sonnet went onto the bed, though to lay her down properly he had to go down with her. Oh, the first time that had happened he received an earful. But not a peep this time. Reaching over and flipping on the CD player in the vain hope that it would relax the woman, he turned back in surprise to feel her… feel… Oh crap.

“Sonnet?” Nothing. She was definitely breathing, but decided apparently that the land of those who remained conscious was definitely not of her liking at the moment. Chalking it up to all the pain killers that had been shoved down her throat the last week, Devon settled near her side – seeing as how she had trapped his arm – and waited.

And waited…

A myriad of things woke Devon. The startled outcry of Sir?!, an elbow to the head, and a draft to his nether regions instantly hand him bolting upright. This was much to the dismay of his head, the aforementioned ‘sir’, and his towel. Which was quite happily hugging the curvy form of one Sonnet Tennyson.

“Devon, do rescue your towel and get some clothing on. I will assist my poor daughter in dressing herself.”

Oh… shit. The chief was still looking, sent on his way in an apparent fit of laughter, brought on by a glare from Devon. Freeing the bath towel, and rewrapping it around his hips, he set off stalking down the hallway. His clothing had taken up residence in the laundry, and it was there that he changed into a pair of slacks and a polo shirt. Not something he wore every day, but comfortable enough not to be mentioned by anyone… Oh God. Why me?! One pair of slippers in the disguise of loafers, and he was off into the kitchen.

“You have the worst timing known to man!” he exclaimed to the chief, five minutes later in the kitchen. Drinks had been served ‘round for the two men, though Devon felt the need for liquid courage at this point. His boss hadn’t even the decency to look abashed; oh no, the man outright laughed!

“The look on your face was priceless. Priceless!” Bastard. Draining his second shallow glass of golden liquid, Devon sighed heavily, and went about setting the table. Ben and Hugh would be here any minute with dinner, which would only serve to further put him on edge. So he left the chief to his laughter in the kitchen, and went about arranging the dinnerware.

How quickly could this night end? One that involved keeping his clothing on, this time!

  • A Girl Like You Next DoorJane | Sonnet | Lara, Tue Jan 17 11:24
    “Let’s go!” Janey eyed Nigel with something close to amusement dancing in her gaze. It was so like Indiana Holmes to infect the entire table, minus Benny, with dancing fever. She grinned as Sean and... more
    • Waking Woes — Nigel | Devon, Tue Jan 17 23:18
      • Feeling Like a... Ahem!Bennet Holmes, Tue Jan 17 23:18
        Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Groaning, Bennett rolled over in bed, slapping his alarm clock at the ungodly hour of… Okay, so ten thirty in the morning wasn’t an ungodly hour. Well, it was if you... more
        • Pianos and PranksDeclan | Lara, Wed Jan 18 23:22
          A vacation sounded exceedingly nice, Declan thought later that afternoon. Faced with a sea of freshman, the tall professor remained safely behind his lecturn and finished rambling out the Battle of... more
          • Heart Attacks GaloreBennett | Devon, Thu Jan 19 02:31
            Now that he had had the chance to stretch his fingers and ease the dust bunnies from his voice box, Bennett was having a remarkably good time. Which was odd, considering he was alone. Usually, when... more
            • Turkey Day BluesMessers Schmidt und Krueger, Thu Jan 19 09:10
              “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Bennett. What’s your name?” It had been just that easy. Hi, I'm Laramie Sorensen and I think you're just swell! Ok, it hadn't gone quite that cheesily, but she'd been able... more
              • Hershey KissesBennett | Devon, Thu Jan 19 12:24
                Thanksgiving dinner was… just dinner. Sort of. That didn’t stop him from eating, though! Bennett smirked across the table at Sean and John, who were obviously playing a game of footsie. At one point, ... more
                • Best of MeMonkeys with Typewriters, Fri Jan 20 10:08
                  "Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in the middle of a Tarzan movie?" Bennett had reliquished his grasp on her once they were inside and standing in line. Lara was still trying to get her pulse down to... more
                  • Interesting TurnsBennett | Devon, Fri Jan 20 14:48
                    “Bennett Conan Holmes! Get your ass down here!” Uh oh. Benny took one last look at himself in the mirror, hoping his hide was still intact when he wandered out the door. What did he do now? God help... more
                    • CorneredNigel Holmes, Fri Jan 20 14:48
                      “Not in here too!” Nigel wailed. He even huffed and puffed, threw a hissy fit, and tore down the offending pictures that were plastered all over his office like wall paper. How the hell did they get... more
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