seveninchmotto | Room 301, Sunday Morning

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Room 301, Sunday Morning

It had been kind of an uneven dance. It had had a good start, with funny decorations and a hot date. Then there was that debacle in the middle with Alec's birthday cake and unfortunately timed transformation, and Isabelle being restrained enough to not hit Sparkle over his stupid accusations. (Look, she was not the best cook or baker in the world, sure, but whatever she made did not turn people into panthers, and even a dumb mundie should have known that and not given her reason to actually actively dislike him instead of intimidating him out of protective instinct. –– Okay, yes, maybe she was still pretty pissed about that.) But then she'd claimed her rightful place on the Homecoming Court. And then she'd sadly had to ban Raleigh from the room for the night because there had clearly been a need for private celebrations with her date.

And now she was stretched out next to said date on her bed, amidst all her black bedding and ridiculously fluffy pillows. Starting to wake up but taking her time getting there.

[ooc: For the werewolf. The graveyard one. Raleigh modded with permission. (I'm pretty sure "DAMN IT, ISABELLE" was permission.)]

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Isaac might not have been crowned in the Homecoming Court, but he was more than happy with how the night ended. He tended to wake up pretty quickly (a combination of his upbringing and sensitive werewolf hearing), but he knew how to laze around in bed with the best of them.

One of his arms was tucked under the ridiculously fluffy pillow but he moved the other one to wrap around Isabelle's waist. He knew he should get up soon to maintain hook up etiquette but it was warm and comfortable here and Isabelle smelled nice.

Shut up with your dog jokes.

It was too early for dog jokes, anyway. And Isabelle made an effort to smell nice at all times, so there was that, too.

She sighed and covered his arm with hers when it wrapped around her, and instinctively shifted closer to him. So, half awake. She'd get there in a second.

Isaac smiled to himself and snuggled in closer so he could press a kiss against Isabelle's shoulder. If he was going to wake somebody up he was going to do it nicely.

Good move, considering the likelihood of Isabelle getting violent with people who woke her up less nicely. But, she sighed softly again.

A moment later, she even managed to be conscious enough for a half mumbled, "Morning."

"Hi," Isaac murmured. "I think I'm in love with your pillows."

Isabelle snickered, though it was a quiet sound. "The ones the school provides are horrible."

They were fine. She was just particular.

"Well I thought they were fine before but now that I know what I'm missing..." Isaas sighed and snuggled deeper into said pillows. "I think you've ruined me for all other pillows."

"Well, how tragic for you," Isabelle told him. "Because I'm not giving any of them up."

Isaac laughed. "So I'm guessing you're not going to be one of those kind, generous princesses that have cartoon birds braiding their hair in the mornings?"

"Well, I have no familiars, but by the Angel, that sounds like it would be convenient."

She had a lot of hair to braid, okay.

She had also never really seen any Disney princess movies.

"A familiar is exactly what it sounds like, isn't it?" Hey, Isaac used to troll deviantart with the best of them and saw those wannabe witch people. "Like pets but not?"

"Kind of, yes," she said. "I'm not an expert, but they're definitely a little more mystical than a pet."

"That'd be useful," he said. "Not for braiding my hair, for other stuff. My hair's too curly to be braided. And too short."

"So what would you use familiars for?" Isabelle wondered, as she lazily made the effort to turn around to face him. He was pretty and she was getting tired of talking to the wall.

"I guess making coffee is out considering they don't have opposable thumbs," Isaac said, putting on a thoughtful expression. It was actually more adorably confused than thoughtful. "A lot of things are out because of the opposable thumb thing."

"That's why I don't see the point," she replied, settling down and brushing her hair away from her face. There was still glitter in it. "They don't even seem that useful. It's quicker to get a person to help you, or just do it yourself."

"Good point," Isaac said, reaching over to twirl the ends of Isabelle's glittery hair between his fingers gently. "How glitter covered am I?"

"Not very," she said though her attention was kind of drawn to his hand rather than inspecting him for glitter. "They're not going to mistake you for one of the statues anytime soon. Not for that, anyway."

Isaac grinned. "But I could be mistaken for the statues in other ways?"

"Nothing gets past you." Maybe because she'd been pretty obvious about it. She smirked, anyway. "You're pale and have some nice muscle definition."

And that just called for pressing a hand against his chest.

"They could've cut you from marble, sure. But you're nicer to touch than marble is."

"Warmer, definitely," Isaac said. "That's definitely one of the better compliments I've received."

"Well, as new royalty, I need to occasionally be nice to my subjects."

Or go from compliments to arroogance in record time. She didn't even care, because she hadn't lied about his physique and was busy running her hand across his chest.

"That's awfully kind of you," Isaac murmured. He was enjoying being touched like this, oh yes. "I'm sure the kingdom will thrive under your reign."

"As long as everyone dances for my entertainment every once in a while," she replied, watching her hand while she splayed her fingers against his skin. Less scarred than hers. "Oh, I could have a harem."

"You could. It's your right as a princess," Isaac agreed, sliding one of his fingers down Isabelle's arm. "You can put them in skimpy outfits made of leather."

Isabelle looked suitably delighted with that idea. "Ooh, classic. Maybe with a Roman vibe." Her hand trailed a bit lower. "They can feed me grapes."

"I would gladly volunteer for that job," he told her. "I'd look good in a toga."

"You'd look good in anything." She paused for a beat. "Or nothing. Actually, I can already vouch for that latter thing."

Since she was running her hand over his bare stomach, she felt pretty confident saying that.

"Feeling's mutual," Isaac said, making a show of lowering his gaze some. "So I'd be allowed in your harem then?"

"Oh yes." She nodded. And definitely didn't shift to make her chest more prominent. That was all in his head. "Top tier harem material."

All in his head or not, Isaac definitely appreciated it. Probably obvious from the way he wasn't bothering to look up. "I'm truly honored."

"Or staring at my chest." Since she'd pretty much invited him to do that, she didn't exactly sound accusatory. "Honestly, I think I prefer the staring."

"Appreciating," Isaac said, looking back up. "I was appreciating your chest."

"Appreciating involves more touching," Isabelle retorted, tapping a few fingertips against where her hand had stilled halfway down his torso. "Staring's just staring. And don't get me wrong, it's nice too. Just a different thing."

"Hmm, I learned something new today." This, of course, now meant that Isaac had to fully appreciate properly and slide his hand over to her chest. Which wasn't a hardship for him at all.

No, Isabelle figured it wasn't. She liked it as well, even if the pleased little sigh was mostly affectation.

"Well, I have school spirit and clearly also a commitment to education."

"Clearly it's why you got elected our princess." Yes, that was how those decisions were made, not by hotness and charm.

"Obviously." There were some nails over his ribs now. She was terribly sorry, except not. "Even if it was a shared title, it was nice to see the student population acknowledge my contributions to the school. Especially after the pointless hate I got earlier."

She was going to be pissy about that forever.

"I can't believe somebody thought cooking could turn you into an animal," Isaac said, squirming a little at the feeling. "I didn't turn into anything after I ate your cooking."

He just felt nauseous afterwards.

Isabelle did not find the squirming a discouragement. She had some pretty long nails and he had a lot of skin to cover.

"Right? It's not as if my cooking turned into fair folk food by accident, and even if it did, I wouldn't feed it to my brother."

She'd probably feed it to Sparkle first, if she was honest.

Isaac's nails weren't long (unless he wanted them to be) but he could still use them to stroke them down Isabelle's stomach. "It'd be a pretty cool trick to have though."

"I guess." She was momentarily distracted by a shiver, but shivering was good. "Not very useful, but potentially amusing. As long as I never ate any of it myself."

It was a mystery whether she ever ate any of her own cooking anyway.

"But I think you'd make a cute panther." Teasing, he was teasing.

Isabelle dug her nails into the skin at his side a little harshly anyway.

"Is that so?"

Isaac laughed and squirmed some more. Luckily her nails felt more like tickling than anything else. "Hey, panthers are cute and intimidating. I'd probably turn into a cocker spaniel."

'Cause, you know. The hair.

"And that would be adorable." And she had to leave his side be because she needed that hand to ruffle his spaniel-y hair. "But you already have an animal to turn into."

"Werewolves aren't very cute though," he said, leaning in towards Isabelle's touch. "The opposite of cute, in fact."

"So I've heard." From him, even. She kept running her fingers through his hair. "You're pretty clean for a werewolf, though."

Or, werewolves where she was from were more dirty than average.

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Room 301, Sunday Morning

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