[Reed Wakefield]

He was late... again. What the hell was the matter with his alarm clock that it just refused to go off at the correct time? It was a race to find clean clothes and get out the door as it was. Haphazardly throwing on clothes (screw the cleanliness of them), he almost made it out scotch-free. It was his mother who stopped him with a prim, 'Alexander!' She'd made him breakfast as a surprise. To outsiders, this would seem like a wonderful thing - but to him, this was just another distraction making him late. It was breakfast and a brisk morning jog to school or catch the bus and risk disappointing her and... him. He sat down and, with practiced precision, basically inhaled the soggy bowl of fruit loops that was laid out for him - leaving only the milk. Picking his backpack off the table, it knocked into the bowl and spilled the milk all over the table and floor. He didn't even have a chance to apologize before the tell-tale footsteps of his father were heard on the stairs. It was a gift - a horrid, twisted gift - that his father possessed in being able to cross a room that quickly. And before Reed knew it, he was being jerked around by one of his last un-ripped collars. The last thought he had was, 'How am I going to explain this new set of bruises?'

Reed woke with a start and a curse, his arms immediately raising to sheild and protect his face. It took him only another moment to fully awaken and realize that he was twenty-six, not sixteen. Nightmares of his father weren't few or far between, but Reed was more than used to them. Groaning, he idly wondered whether or not he had to work today - he'd just worked a triple shift, there was no way in hell he was going in today... probably. Rolling over in an attempt to try and fall back into a peaceful sleep, Reed collided into another warm body. Wait. Another warm body? Who the fu- ? "Mercey?" His voice was groggy and disbelieving as he rolled back over and tried to remember what the hell he did yesterday. He'd fallen asleep at his desk, only to be awoken by some idiot who ruined his paperwork. He'd agreed to work a third shift, coming off of a double, and called around for the latest going-ons. He'd run into Mercey. Oh, fuck. He'd run into Mercey! Scrubbing his hands over his face, Reed wished this was a bad dream. Obviously, he really enjoyed punishing himself. He hadn't even been drinking yesterday...

"Get the fuck out of my bed." Reed pushed himself into a sitting position and checked his surroundings. At least he'd woken up first - the little bitch couldn't nick any of his stuff when he was watching her. A quick inventory of his essentials - wallet, gun, badge - showed that she hadn't even tried yet. His quick inventory also revealed that he wasn't wearing any clothes. Crap. "Seriously. Get out. I can't have my sheets smelling like you." Might just have to cut my loses and burn the damn things. His feet hit the cold ground and he went searching for boxers. Luckily, he had a clean pair fairly close and pulled them on before turning back to check on his... bedmate. He couldn't even tell if she was awake yet. He didn't care. "Get up!" He threw his workboots at the bed in an effort to make sure she was up. They landed with a satisfying thunk and he could only smirk. Unluckily for Reed, he couldn't find a shirt and so he was forced to put on his meanest 'I mean business' face while wearing only superman boxers.

[Mercey Magdalyn]

How many times had she been in a situation like this? Too many times, definitely more than she could count, and definitely more than she should have been. She was a feared gang leader, not some whore in sheep's clothing. She didn't randomly hop into a cop car and get it on with an old flame who sometimes reignited her fire, and she definitely didn't go back to his apartment with him. But you know what? Mercey Magdalyn wasn't really feeling like herself. She'd been busted for the first time on a drug deal that was only her - nobody else was supposed to know about it, not even most of the Sharks, and she shouldn't have been caught. This time she couldn't place the blame on anyone else but herself... but had she really been foolish enough to lead none other than Reed Wakefield to her very own drug dealing spot? Seriously, she thought she had been thorough in keeping the entire deal hush hush, but obviously she was mistaken. What had she done wrong? Or, an even worse question - what had she done right? The twenty-two year old hated admitting that she enjoyed her "special time" spent with one uptight fuzz, but damnit it just so happened to be the truth. Of course, it wasn't as though she was going to admit this to anyone besides her closest friends. The Sharks would eat her up if they ever found out she was sleeping, or had slept, with someone in the fuzz, especially Reed. Most of them had a personal vendetta out for him.

And you know what? On any normal day after having a good roll in the hay with a very sexy man, she would wake up bright and early and skidaddle out of there like a bat out of hell, not sleep in. But hot damn, Reed had a comfy bed! She wondered why he ever wanted to leave. If she had a bed that felt like this, she's screw the Sharks (not all of them, mainly one) and up and quit just so she could stay in bed all day between rounds of training with her huge punching bag. Not to say that she was lazy, she wasn't, she just didn't happen to have a very comfortable bed. The woman sighed in her sleep, not exactly aware of anything going on until the weight in bed beside her shifted. Damnit, she'd gotten so comfortable too. Willing Reed to go away and let her sleep, she turned slightly on her side and put one hand underneath her pillow and the other underneath her cheek on top of it, getting comfortable once more. She was slowly drifting back to sleep when a body collided with hers, a very warm one at that; it didn't make her open up her eyes, but she was dimly aware that Reed was awake now. Shit, that couldn't bode well for her 'stay in bed' whim. "Mercey?" The girl sighed in irritation and briefly moved one of her hands at him in his general direction, her face contorted slightly in an obvious sign of irritation as she attempted to swat him away, then resumed her comfortable position on the bed. Things were silent for a few moments and, as she felt him shifting in the bed, Mercey had the delightful hope that he would just leave her there so that she could sleep peacefully, but those hopes were dashed when his irritated voice reached her ears.

"Get the fuck out of my bed." Shit, he sounded so serious too. Sighing, irritation once again evident on her face, the girl murmered something about fucking off and cast him a quick vulgar sign of one finger, if he was looking at her, then rolled over so that she was facing the opposite direction of him and pulled the covers over her even more. She didn't want to get up, damnit! Who was he to tell her to? Of course, it was his bed, but damnit, he'd practically invited her into it the previous night, so she was welcomed there now in her own mind. "Seriously. Get out. I can't have my sheets smelling like you." Mercey attempted ruefully to roll her eyes, which didn't work so well since her eyes were currently closed. How many times had she heard that from Reed? Many a-time, but he always seemed to enjoy inviting her back in for more. Luckily for her, he'd bought a much more comfortable mattress since the last time they'd done the mattress mambo so long ago. "Better than it smelling like you, stinky..." She murmered back half-heartedly, not even bothering to make the statement sarcastic. She was just too tired; after a long day at work with the Sharks and then a very long night with one cop, she was one tired motherfucker. And she'd be damned if she didn't get her beauty sleep in sometime soon. She was making herself comfortable once more when something hard hit her square on the back, right between her shoulder blades, sending her eyes flying open. "Get up!"

The woman hissed, obviously pissed off that the bastard had the nerve to throw something at her, and sat up in the bed, covering herself with the sheet as she sat up in bed. Her dark eyes narrowed, she pushed her messy hair over her shoulders indignantly and after grabbing the object that had hit her, a dirty boot, she threw it back at the barely clothed man with as much force as possible in her slightly weak morning body. Mercey was barely aware of where the boot went because she had just noticed what he was wearing. Superman boxers. That was an obvious invitation for humiliation from her - seemed like he really wanted to make her laugh, either that or he was very ready to get her out of the apartment. A mischevious smirk spread across her lips as she looked him up and down, starting at the top of his head and ending with his toes, her eyes lingering on his boxers as she attempted not to laugh. Soon, though, she coudn't help it and burst out into laughter. He looked like such a child! "Hah, nice boxers, Supes." She smirked as she pulled the sheet off of her and reluctantly stood, not even bothering to cover herself (she knew she was fine as hell) as she stood up out of bed and moved around, searching for some underwear or something to put on. "Seems like someone's in an awful stingy mood this morning. Riddle me this, Supes; who pushed a stick up your ass and is it possible you'll shit it ou before we next meet? I'm getting tired of your prude-ish attitude." She finally found some undergarments to put on and did so without hesitance, then began rummaging around the clothing on the floor to look for her things.