Manuel and Adrienne - Backdated to early morning January 8

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

An innocent business dinner leads to Adrienne and Manuel waking up in bed together with no recollection of how their night went so horribly awry.

What a comfy pillow. Very warm, comfy pillow. Adrienne was teetering around the edge of consciousness, not quite ready to think anything profound or even open her eyes, but becoming slightly more aware as moments passed. The first thing she became aware of after musing about how comfortable her pillow was was the fact that her head was aching in a way that it had never ached before. Then, she realized that her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and razors and that there was a foul taste to those razor-edged cotton balls. Hangover. Bad fucking hangover. Acknowledging that she'd just failed one of her New Years Resolutions, the psychometrist decided that going back to sleep was the most wonderful idea in the world. She tried to burrow deeper into her pillow when a bright ray of realization seared into her pounding head. The pillow was breathing.

Making a noise between a groan and a whimper, she forced her eyes open. Even her eyes ached. Very bad fucking hangover. The room was bathed in early morning light. Shit. Had she missed classes? And who was she sleeping on? Morgan?

It was a struggle to focus her eyes on what was in front of her, but when she finally did Adrienne's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "Manny?" she exclaimed quietly. Awareness came crashing down on her and her first coherant thought was to swivel her head around and see if she was wearing clothes.

Damnit. Where was her shirt?

The groan caused him to stir, attempting a shift at the slow discomfort of breathing with a weight on him creeping into his consciousness. He was so groggy and his head felt light, vacant of a headache he knew he should have had. Somewhere inthe back of his mind, he registered the very strong foul smell of vomit and Manuel turned his head over again, raising a hand to brush over his face. He was so comfortable, melted into the matress and tangled into the sheets that he wasn't aware someone was on him until she said his name.

Manuel opened his eyes and it was like staring into the blaring sun,which he practically was bathed in, forcing his eyes closed again. That was when he realized he must have had too much, because he was laying in a bed with Adrienne, his head swirled like he was still drunk and a peek at the nearby clock told him it was seven am. Enough to miss a morning swim. And forget everything past setting down the empty scotch and cracking a joke about.. about... something.

He shielded his eyes from the sun, squinting at her until she blocked it from him. "Are you wearing my shirt?" he asked. A stupid question, he knew, because he was the last person who would ever be colour blind. Especially since contact with her only enhanced colours.

Horror beginning to replace hangover pain, Adrienne rolled off of him onto a vacant part of the mattress, staring at the shirt she was wearing. "What are you wearing?!" she asked, very nearly hissing with hysteria. The worst part was she already knew the answer to that- he was wearing nothing. "Okay okay, we need to remain calm," she said, mostly for herself. She knew he could feel emotions and as much as she wasn't sure if she liked him right now, she didn't want to give him an overload or break him or anything. She crawled out of the bed and went to her purse to spray hand coating substance on herself so she wouldn't complicate matters further by zoning out on him with readings. "I'm sure nothing happened. What the fuck did we do last night? Wait, I already know the answer to that- lots of drinking." The whole place smelled positively foul, and her vomit-encrusted clothes were lying in a heap in a path halfway to the bathroom. "Are we in your hotel room?"

"I suppose we are. Better than a park bench." Manuel sat up with some great effort and glanced over at the clothes all over the floor. His, hers. Except for his shirt which sat comfortably on her body as though it was meant to fit to cover everything. He let himself roll back into the mattress and yawned, brushing a hand over his hip, pushing the sheet lower in a scratch. His hand drew away the second he realized this, pulling up to reveal he was not wearing anything underneath.

He coughed, pulling the sheet up and wrapping it carelessly around his waist. "It seems I had taken the liberty of walking freely last night and recall nothing as a result."

Adrienne nearly laughed at his attempt to cover up. She'd been sleeping on top of him, for Christ's sakes! It wasn't as if she didn't already know he was naked! Stoppit, she ordered herself firmly. Stay calm. He was just naked. That doesn't mean anything. I'm sure you didn't actually have sex with Manuel. She didn't think she had. It had been seven years, after all- wouldn't she be able to tell if she'd had sex with him? Musing on that fact, she returned to the bed, sprawling out next to him. Her head was spinning, and she wasn't afraid of him at the moment. Blinking until the wave of nausea subsided, the psychometrist sat up. "I can find out," she said triumphantly. "What happened," she continued. "Since we can't remember. I can read the clothes to see what we did, the bed to see if we..."

Her fear, her laughter, even her comfort was too easy to read and came to him one after another in a roll of emotions he was slow to register. "Had sex?" he offered, raising a brow and a hand slid over her to, pulling her lower body to him. "And if I do not wish to know?" he asked. She seemed hysterical to him right now and a playful smile slipped over his features, free of the burden the mansion constantly put on him. In here, it was them and other guests along with employees who were faint compared to his contact with her emotions. He could handle hers. They were strong, but easy, simple to him compared to someone like Amanda or Morgan. Simple but still complex in her own way. He could not handle so many.

As an afterthought, he removed his hand and withdrew from her, rolling over. "I believe I am still drunk." He retrieved the phone and punched in the number, waiting for an employee to pick. He cleared his throat. "This is Manuel de la Rocha. I am in room 6012. I require room service immediately, dry cleaning and please send your best chamber maid."

Flinching nervously at his touch, Adrienne forced herself to stay calm, reminding herself that Manuel wasn't going to hurt her, he was just being playful and very... un-Manuel-like. Besides, with all the self-defense she'd been taking she knew how to incapacitate him, and wouldn't hesitate to do so the way she once would have. That was reassuring. Still, a wave of relief washed over her when he let her go. "If you don't wish to know then I won't tell you," she said with an easy shrug. "I want to know. No offense or anything," she added quickly. "I just... I'm a nun now." He earned points for calling service to the room so they didn't have to deal with anything themselves. That was... chivalrous. Or maybe lazy. But Adrienne liked to think it was chivalrous. Not that she intended to be around when room service showed up. "If you don't mind, I'm going to disappear to the shower. When I come back, I'll try to figure out just how in Christ's name we got here."

"I am sure I will be in more of a listening mood once you have showered. However," Manuel said, propping himself up on his hand, his hair spilled over his shoulders and dark eyes regarded her as he placed a finger over the button that joined the shirt in a v and pulled. "Nuns do not wear a man's shirt after a night of drinking. As incredibly beautiful as you are wearing _my_ shirt, you have no idea how you smell right now," he said, letting the fabric bounce out of his finger, nestled back against her breast. Grabbing the front of his sheet, Manuel rolled over and out of bed, leaving his bare ass exposed to her as he sauntered over to the desk. As an afterthought, he covered up the rest and tied it off, opening his wallet and pulling out his creditcard.

He was getting rather physical now, and not knowing whether she'd been taken advantage of was finally beginning to sink in, suspending Adrienne's playful mood. She pulled a wetnap out of her purse to clean a hand and placed it on the bed. It only took a moment to zip back through the timeline and find out that all they'd done in the bed was sleep, so when she pulled away and emerged from her trance, Adrienne felt a great weight being lifted off her shoulders. Of course that didn't mean they hadn't had sex elsewhere, but from what she'd seen of him so far she was beginning to doubt that very much, and reading the clothes would put any remaining doubts she had to rest.

Feeling better, she peeled off his shirt and hurled it at him, hitting him in the shoulder with it. It fell onto the desk "You want your shirt back, here," she murmured coyly, "have it." She stood for a moment with nothing on, feeling surprisingly unself-conscious about the scar on her thigh, then turned on her heel and strode into the bathroom, locking the door securely behind herself. "Before dry cleaning takes the clothes, can you pull buttons or zippers or I don't know, something off them for me to read? Something other than vomit?" Let's see how much of a gentleman Manuel de la Rocha really is... she thought to herself with a smirk.


Manuel leaned over to the side and glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised curiously in a generous sweep of her body. He turned back to the desk and opened a book, scanning for a local tailor he knew. They would deliver. They knew his sizes. He'd need a new shirt, new pants, anything new because he was _not_ wearing vomit stained clothes or any clothes that came _near_ vomit stained ones at all. Manuel left her to take a shower while he dialed and placed his order.

It took her sometime to have a shower, to which he was lounging in a bathrobe by the window, sipping coffee with breakfast waiting for her. Manuel had a leg crossed, the paper drapped over his legs while he leaned back, scanning the business section for any unusual updates. His hair was tied back, smooth, yet wet and clean.

"I took the liberty of getting you a robe," he said without looking up. "It's there, on that chair." He gestured in the general direction of a lavish pattern covered chair.


The bathroom hadn't been in a much cleaner state than the rest of the room had been in, but Adrienne had dragged out her time there to try and clear her head and gain a little more composure from the steam and pummelling of the shower jets over her body. She couldn't remember much about last night, other than vague snippets of laughter and downing drink after drink after drink. Why had she let that happen? Usually she knew her own limit- inhibited but not ill- and was careful not to exceed it. Certainly she hadn't blacked out like this in years. What had made last night different?

With the reminder that there was no point in scolding herself about what was past, she wrapped a towel around herself after being forced to read it and emerged to find the room clean and Manuel reading the paper in front of the window, looking relaxed and composed. "Thanks," she muttered in response to his mention of the robe. She picked it up, passed through the reading of it as quickly as she could, and replaced it with the towel she'd been wearing, tossing the towel- which she was forced to read again- in the general direction of the bathroom. "Eew. You do not want to know what the last person to wear this robe did in it. Unless you're into fetishes," she added with a shrug and a smirk, sitting in the chair the robe had occupied. "So I'm reading shoes?" she questioned, noticing the pairs of footwear laid out in front of her- the only remnants of what they'd been wearing last night. "Good choice. Do you remember anything about last night?"

He spared a glance to look up and a faint smile played across his lips as he returned his eyes to his paper. "If you want," he said before returning her look. "Does it drive you that mad that you may have had sex with me?" he asked in jest, folding his paper and setting it aside on the table. "Tell me something, and I will be honest here, when was the last time you had sexual encounters with a man?"


"I'm a nun, remember?" Adrienne replied as seriously as she could. "I've never had sexual encounters with a man. And yes, it would drive me mad if I had sex with you. No offense. I have trauma," she informed him with a sage, patronizing nod. She bent down, allowing him a good view of her cleavage as she touched one of her shoes, zipping forward along the timeline to see herself arriving at last night's restaurant. Familiar as she was with her own body language and postures, she recognized as she watched herself getting out of the car that she'd already had a drink or two before arriving at the restaurant. She'd found Manny easily enough, and because the Adrienne doing the reading realized that she didn't have time to review the entire night's conversation as had to get back to the school, and that the reading was making her head pound even more than it already was, she moved forward along the timeline to when their entrees had arrived. By this time a second bottle of wine was already being finished, and they were engaged in a conversation about the business processes of the Hellfire Club. "Oh, come on," last-night-Adrienne was saying, loudly and a touch sloppily, "you can't be serious? Are you serious?! No!"


Manuel's chest shook with laughter as she fanned a hand toward him in a touch and he lazily picked it up and pulled it towards him. "Yes and he was very _very_ keen on bedding her. Little did he realize he was dealing with the Queen. It was a bitter end for him, I am afraid." His fingers laced through hers, turning them over and place his hand under hers. Untangling their fingers, his gestures were smooth and replaced that warmth with a cold drink of champaign.

"You would do well in a circle, whether it be black or white, though you should be white, considering your sister would kill you for heading that direction and kill me for allowing it."


Adrienne pouted and caught Manuel's hand again. "If Emma were to kill you, Senor de la Rocha, I think I might be upset. Assuming I wasn't dead already. If I was dead I'd prob'ly just be dead, and wouldn't really care that Emma killed you. But if she killed you first I'd be upset..."



Adrienne snapped out of the reading, making a mental note for when she didn't feel like someone was jackhammering her head to replay this bit about circles and black and white from the beginning. It was rather interesting. And Manuel was acting like she'd never seen him before, which was also interesting. He was acting like a typical man, almost flirty, when she was just beginning to think that he was different. She shot him a look of nervousness across the desk, because in the reading she'd recognized that she was responding to the flirting, which was also very interesting as she suspected that it wasn't just to pry more information out of him. Without speaking, however, or giving him a chance to speak, she took his shoe, short as she was on time and able to read her own shoes whenever she wanted. She played around on the time line, watching herself arrive and the bottles of wine arrive one by one and slowing it down when the waiter was clearing four bottes of wine off their table.



"Do you wanna keep drinking here?" Adrienne was asking him. Her chair was much closer to his then it had been when they'd started dinner, and she was pretty much draped against his arm. "Or maybe go somewhere else? Club, or something? S'long as there are people. Cuz I don't think it would be smart to be alone with you right now, Senor," she said with a teasing smirk, trailing fingertips up his arm.


"And chance making a specticle of ourselves Ms. Frost? I do believe you have crossed the threshold of the unknown and you are toying with a very unpredictable fate of our future," he mused, taking his creditcard offered by the waiter. Manuel stood, somewhat unsteady on his feet and he held out his hand, offering to help her up. As soon as she was on her feet, she fell into him and he nearly toppled himself had he not a chair behind him for support. The weight of her against his body made him grin and with his hand linked through hers, he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, luring her to him. "I believe we need the privacy..."



Giggling, Adrienne shifted closer to him and entwined an arm through his, leading him out of the restaurant and into her waiting car. "Your hotel room?" She suggested to Manny. "Plaza," she told Driver before Manny could answer. It was only a short ride, and when the car stopped and she stumbled out, she did something that had observing-Adrienne wanting to bash her head against the desk- she told Driver not to wait. A knot was growing in her stomach as she watched herself hanging off of Manny as they took the elevator up to his room. She moved ahead on the timeline, like fast-forwarding a dvd or scrolling through a microfilm tape- able to see what they were doing at an increased speed. Taking off her coat. Ordering room service. Sitting on the bed. Talking. Letting in room service. Pouring the ordered brandy for each other. Drinking. Pouring more. Talking. She reminded herself once again to replay the conversations when she had more time. Right now, with her head aching and this growing sense of foreboding in her belly, Adrienne couldn't possibly think what she and Manuel would have to talk about for an entire evening.


After knocking back a fifth brandy, Adrienne saw herself responding to something Manuel had said by recoiling, a look of confusion on her face. She stumbled off the bed, groped for the chair that she was sitting in now. Slumping in the chair. Then jerking upright, staggering for the bathroom. Not quite making it before beginning to throw up.



Manuel hesitated and with obvious disgust for her throwing up, he looked as though he was considering leaving. But a second thought had him behind her, holding her head while he leaned against whatever he could to keep his balance. He leaned over to grab a garbage can and slipped it under her, grimacing while she heaved. He had to look away eventually because whatever was in his stomach was threatening to come up.

When she was finished, he took the care to get her on her feet and deposit her in a chair while he haphazardly cleaned up the mess in the washroom so he could go to the washroom. A few minutes later, he'd come out and found her somewhat half passed out. Leaning over her, Manuel tipped her head and shook her cheek. "Bella, you need to wake up," Manuel paused smiling to himself at the absurdity of the situation and stood up, pulling her to her feet. "Bella, your clothes are _covered_." He tried not to get any on himself as he helped her undress in her state (and his) and when her clothes were tossed aside in a heap, Manuel deposited her on the bed. That in itself was difficult considering he had a very bad limp and without her help, it was similar to dragging a dead weight around. Once she was there, he sighed, studying the dark locks spread out on a beautiful red bedspread and he marveled how he did not see how stunning she could be around such an array of colours within his vision, minus the distinct stench of puke lingering on both of them. It would have been so easy to take advantage of this situation and the thought coursed through his mind, but he conceded that he was a gentlemen above what he would have done as a teenager. That and he was pathetically drunk. It was nearly as fun as doing it yourself.


Undoing his shirt,he urged her into a sitting position and wrapped his maroon shirt around her shoulders, helping her slip her arms through them and did the first few buttons up. He was not going to leave her completely nude, however _he_ was going to have to because his pants were not spared. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and glanced over his shoulder, taking a hold of his shoe, "Bella, do not tell Remy--" and he dropped the shoe to the floor.



Adrienne let go of his shoe and straightened up in the chair. If Manuel was aware of her emotions now, he would know that she was suddenly swamped with embarrassment, self-loathing, and confusion. Embarrassment and self-loathing over getting herself into that situation of being that vulnerable around him. Confusion over his plea for her not to tell Remy, and over the fact that he hadn't taken advantage of her. Carnality, she could understand. Decency and chivalry were still slightly unfamiliar concepts. Unless he'd just been turned off by her digestive pyrotechnics.


Not feeling any of the satisfaction she thought she would have felt learning that she hadn't been raped, Adrienne wallowed in her embarrassment and self-loathing for a moment or two before wrenching herself out of the chair. "I have to go," she said without any preamble or explanation. She found her purse, dug out her phone and hit the speed dial for her driver, letting it ring once before hanging up. That was the signal for an immediate pickup. Her coat, thankfully escaping anything foul, was in a heap on the floor of the closet area, and she put it on over the bathrobe, holding onto her shoes. "Sorry for leaving the room like this," she muttered, hesitating. It would take Driver a minute or two to get here and she didn't really want to go down to the lobby wearing a fur coat and a bathrobe.



He watched her carefully but didn't need to. Her emotions changed, shifting from one gear into the next and he'd barely been able to brace himself before he was flushing with embarrassment as well. "Adrienne," Manuel started before he was cut off by her call to the driver. It had him on his feet and following her. "Adrienne," but she cut him off again and looked like she wasn't sure what to do. He took that moment to cross the threshold between them and leaned against the cane, if only to keep his hand from reaching out and touching her. The other tucked into the robe pocket. "What is wrong?" he asked. Clearly she witnessed something she didn't like.


She gave Manuel a weak, false smile. "Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine." She pulled some cash out of her purse and stuffed it into the pocket of his robe that wasn't occupied with his hand. "To help with room cleanup. I'm sorry again about that."



Manuel took the bills and grabbed her hand, placing them back inside. "No, tell me what happened?" he said more forcefully.



"I thought you didn't want to know, remember?" Adrienne reminded him, pained. There was no way in hell she wanted to relate that story to him now. It was far too embarrassing. She stuffed the bills back in his robe pocket and did the juvenile thing- she dashed out into the hall knowing that with his leg injury he would be slow to catch her. "I have to get to classes," she called over her shoulder as she hurried towards the elevator. "We can talk about this another time? Good luck hiding out from whatever Marie-Ange warned you about!"


Not only did she not want to talk to him, she didn't want to see him. That much was apparent and her rush away from him was like a swift slap across the face. Yet she had not lifted a hand. "Adrienne," he snapped, but she was already rushing away from him and he felt her urgency to get away, impulsing him to do the same. He closed the door and paced the room, worried, wondering if he had taken it too far last night. Had he used his powers without meaning to? She knew the answer yet she refused to tell him and he took comfort in the fact that there hadn't been tears streaming down her face. Comfort, but very little of it.