never have i ever

[Ian Fleming]

Ian lounged comfortably at a table in a corner of the common room, casually looking through one of his car magazines. The chair across from him was empty, but it would be occupied soon. A nondescript paper bag sat at his feet. Inside the bag were bottles of alcohol, which, as an underage student, he wasn’t supposed to have. He didn’t normally keep a supply of liquor, and if Wendy hadn’t proposed this rendezvous tonight, he probably wouldn’t have procured the bottles at all. As it was, however, he did have them, which was indeed in violation of school rules and the law. He didn’t care too much, though. If he got in trouble, he’d accept the consequences. But he wanted to have fun with Wendy tonight, and drinking was supposed to be part of the fun. Earlier that day, they’d been in Hogsmeade together—they hadn’t made plans to go together, but they’d happened to see each other there and then spent part of the afternoon together—and Wendy had suggested playing a game. Ian, of course, had promptly repeated her proposal as a question, to which she’d giggled and explained her proposal further. “Never Have I Ever” was the game she wanted to play, and she’d impishly suggested making it a drinking game. Amused by her seeming penchant for getting to know him better by playing games, Ian had agreed, despite not knowing exactly how to play. The basic premise, however—that is, the players telling each other things they’ve never done—sounded appealing to him. He liked playing with Wendy and getting to know her. The two of them could probably get pretty playful with the things they’d choose to reveal.

Ian liked Wendy. A lot. When they’d first started talking at the beginning of the year, they’d become good friends rather quickly, much like he had with Imogen after that first conversation they’d had passing notes in class last year. The feelings hadn’t been romantic at first—from his side, at least. They’d both been seeing other people at the time, but he suspected that Wendy hadn’t had as strong feelings for her boyfriend as he’d had for Sooz and then Tori. Wendy had been flirty with him from the start, but he hadn’t minded. Whether or not she’d had romantic feelings for him while they were dating other people, she’d known where the line was with him and never crossed it. Ian had in fact often reciprocated her playfulness, but he hadn’t possessed or expressed much stronger feelings for her until recently. They hadn’t talked much in past years, but now things were different. They still didn’t spend an enormous amount of time together, but it was no longer uncommon for Wendy to sit next to Ian in class or drop in for a short conversation if she saw him in the common room. They’d even done homework together a few times. It had actually been during one of those times when his fondness for her had begun to take on a different tone. He’d been focused on answering a series of questions for Potions, unbothered by Wendy’s sitting next to him, peering at his parchment. He’d been about to ask her if she needed help when she’d asked whether his name was really Sebastian. She’d noticed that he’d written “Sebastian Fleming” at the top of his parchment, as he did for all his assignments, and been obviously surprised by that fact. He’d simply responded, “Yeah,” and immediately been pleasantly surprised when she blurted, “But you’re Ian.” She’d understood, somehow, without his needing to explain it to her. He was Ian, even though the name on his birth certificate read “Sebastian” and he still answered to his given name. Perhaps it was because, as she’d revealed to him afterward, that she’d also chosen her own nickname as a child to replace her given name. Regardless, she probably hadn’t realized how much Ian had appreciated that sort of genuine reaction from her, but he had. From then on, his feelings had grown, slowly at first, then more quickly after his relationship with Tori came to an end.

He and Wendy had chemistry. There was a lot of playfulness in their interactions, because Wendy, like Ian, had about her a freedom of personality that allowed her to interact with him in a fairly uninhibited way, despite not knowing him very well. There was pretense in nearly every sentence that came out of her mouth, but it was always tongue-in-cheek, which amused him. She also liked to play coy even after her reactions gave her away, which amused him even more. As well as Wendy held her ground, though, Ian knew he was able to surprise her. He liked the moments when he caught her off guard, because he’d get more genuine reactions out of her, usually accompanied by blushing, which he also liked. All in all, Wendy was fun to talk to and spend time with, and she was cute, in a way that made Ian want to tease her and have her tease him back. She seemed to enjoy getting to know him, and he, in turn, enjoyed getting to know her. She’d ask him about the books he read, even though she didn’t seem that interested in the books themselves. She was interested in him, which he valued, as a person who also enjoyed knowing other people for their individual qualities. In the time since his breakup with Tori, Wendy’s feelings for him had become more apparent to him. She’d asked him to co-host the poker party with her last weekend partially as a way to spend more time with him. And based on the way she’d acted toward him at the party, partially as a way to flirt with him too. That night had left no doubt in his mind of her romantic interest in him and his in her. That following Monday, he’d tried to get her to admit that she liked him, because he liked it when girls were able to say what they wanted and weren’t afraid to go after it. But she’d insisted on playing coy. So he snogged her. She couldn’t deny it after that. She’d responded too receptively and with too much pleasure to keep pretending like she didn’t want him.

And now she wasn’t trying to hide it anymore, which was why Ian was waiting patiently in the common room for her to arrive. It helped, of course, that he was currently engrossed in reading a performance review of the new Chevrolet Monte Carlo, but mostly he was looking forward to spending the evening with Wendy. Tonight, she wouldn’t be hiding her particular interest in him behind the guise of a group gathering. She wanted to play a game with him and him alone, and she’d told him so. He liked that, like he liked her. At the sound of light footsteps approaching, Ian looked up from his magazine. “Wen,” he greeted the girl he’d been waiting for. After she seated herself in the chair across from him, he leaned down to pick up the paper bag. He set it on the table and pushed it gently in Wendy’s direction, showing her what he’d brought. “So how do we play this game?” he asked, listening as she explained the rules. When she was done, he tore off a piece of the paper bag and folded it several times until it became thick. Then, using a trick he’d learned from Aidan, he used the folded piece of paper to pop the cap off one of the bottles while he thought. With a teasing grin, he decided to start the game. “Never have I ever played this game before.”

Wendy Palmer

[Wendy Palmer]

[/color]

Wendy didn’t really “do” relationships. Her last (and only) steady boyfriend had been Damien Deminov, and he was freshly graduated and was trying to break into the music industry – and he’d cheated on Wendy, but she was trying not to harbour feelings of ill will toward him. After all, Damien was a more sexual type of guy. Wendy, despite not being a virgin herself, hadn’t felt that they were at that point yet in their relationship. The fact that they were only able to see each other two or three times a month was hard on them, and Wendy’s growing feelings for one Ian Fleming were taking over her emotions. She had been thinking of calling it quits anyway when she learned that he had slept with Sadie MacMillan. It had hurt, of course, but she tried not to be too upset. Wendy was not the type of girl to hold a grudge, and she and Damien had been great friends before. She still liked him as a person, so there was no reason for them not to be friends. Still, they’d fallen out of contact after their break up; to be honest, Wendy was too engrossed in Ian to notice. She and Ian weren’t dating in the sense that they were boyfriend and girlfriend, but they were seeing an awful lot of each other, and Ian seemed to enjoy Wendy’s company as much as she enjoyed his. He had co-hosted poker with her a while back, and had been there for her when the party turned into a disaster. What made it all go to shit, Wendy couldn’t say. She had made sure not to bring too much alcohol on purpose, because she really didn’t want people getting drunk. That Zamboni or Zabini or whatever bloke had brought his own stash, though, and she figured guests had started in on that rather quickly, and the rest was history.

If she was being quite honest (which she was doing a lot more of since she met Ian), the fact that the first party she had ever thrown turned out to be a bust was quite upsetting. But just when Wendy was ready to pick up the trash and talk herself out of crying, Ian had come to her rescue. He had stayed behind to help clean – which was good of him anyway, since it was his party too and he’d helped set things up – and offered to finish the game with Wendy. She had accepted, and they played one-on-one until it was over. To Wendy’s surprise, Ian had won – not because she thought he was a bad poker player, but because she thought she was a good one. And really, she had only narrowly lost, and the hands she’d been dealt hadn’t been as fantastic as she’d hoped for. Still, excuses aside, Ian had beaten her and Wendy had almost been glad to lose, because at least she was able to play with someone until the end. Afterward, they had finished cleaning up the Hole in the Wall, stashed the excess alcohol in the little hiding places within the room, and walked back up to Gryffindor to their respective beds and said goodnight. The rest of the weekend she’d spent with Lucy, so the next time she was able to talk to Ian properly was during class on Monday. They’d flirted back and forth, and then after class, Ian had interrupted her small talk with Lucy and decided to plant a snog on her. Honestly, on a scale of one to ten, it was an eleven, because Wendy had practically swooned right there. Oh, it wasn’t a perfect kiss, because Ian wasn’t perfect and neither was she, but the moment and emotion and the approach and the kiss itself and Ian and everything, everything about it, had all been just… it was everything Wendy believed a first kiss should be, and she couldn’t stop smiling the whole day, or blushing whenever Ian caught her gaze. She knew he liked it when she blushed; he was definitely attracted to it, which Wendy didn’t mind. It was one of her more honest reactions – and maybe that was why he liked it so much, because she couldn’t lie about it.

They were getting to know each other better, of course. They’d kissed and snogged more, and hands had explored certain body parts – over the clothes, at the moment, though Wendy figured they would probably toss those aside within the next few weeks. Mostly it had been her bum which had been fondled, because Ian seemed to be the type of bloke who was attracted to that particular part of the female anatomy. Wendy didn’t mind; she was pear-shaped, and had wide-set, curvy hips. She liked her arse, to be blunt, whereas she figured the breast area could use a bit of improvement – not that she’d ever try to do anything magically or surgically, but it would have been nice if there was more there to work with. Really, she supposed, they were of a normal size for her height and weight, and it wasn’t like they were droopy or saggy. If anything, she just figured they were smaller because she did have bigger hips and a more-noticeable arse. It didn’t really matter, she supposed, and Ian hadn’t complained at all about her anatomy, and she was healthy last time she’d checked. Her body was her body, and she would accept it as is. Besides, who said she was finished changing? She was sixteen; her body could still change anyway.

She shrugged off her thoughts and, making sure her dormmates were all settled into their beds with the curtains closed, she reached under her pillow and grabbed her bottle of vodka and hid it inside her jumper. Being as quiet as possible, she sneaked out of the dorm, hoping the girls were either asleep or reading or something so they wouldn’t notice her making her great escape. It was pretty late, so they should have been sleeping, she figured; in any case, she was out, and heading downstairs to where Ian Fleming was currently waiting for her. Tonight, they were playing a new game – just the two of them – that Wendy had played with her cousin and some of her Muggle friends last summer. It was meant to be a drinking game – hence why Wendy had alcohol – but since the girls didn’t have any alcohol on them, they’d simply tallied up and whoever had done the least amount of things was the winner. Wendy had excused herself after a while, since she found it was hard to not include elements from her magical life. She smiled as Ian greeted her with a call of “Wen”, and already she could feel her cheeks turning pink. Ian was the only person who called her “Wen”, and Wendy had to admit that she liked it. Other people couldn’t call her Wen, though, she decided; only Ian. “Hi,” she replied cheerily, planting herself in a chair across from him. It was a little risky, doing this in the common room, but Wendy didn’t feel like sneaking off to the Hole in the Wall again, especially if they got rather drunk and would have to stumble up the stairs. They’d just have to be careful to not be too loud, that was all.

“It’s pretty simple,” she said, keeping her voice down. “You just make a statement of something you’ve never done. For example: Never have I ever worn boxers.” She waggled her eyebrows playfully at him before continuing, “If what I say is something that you’ve done, you take a swig of your drink. If you haven’t done it either, you don’t drink. Pretty straight-forward. I guess there’s no real winner; the game just ends when we feel like calling it quits. So, ready?” She looked at him expectantly, smiling when he decided to start the game. Wendy let out a quiet laugh and rolled her eyes, but took a small sip as she was meant to. “Nice. Never have I ever… ridden a horse.” Given that Ian was a co-founder of the Riding Club at Hogwarts, Wendy figured this one was a given. It was pretty much expected that the first few questions would be simple; the juicier stuff was bound to come out the more they drank, though.

[/blockquote]

[Ian Fleming]

Ian had ridden horses since he was a child, so he had to take a drink. He lifted his glass to his lips and swallowed a small mouthful. Keeping his eyes on Wendy, he wondered whether she had never ridden a horse because she had never had the opportunity or because she had never wanted to. “Do you want to try it?” he asked in casual interest, before considering the next statement he would play. Ian was not an excessively competitive person, but he was still playing to win. In essence, he’d have to choose things he’d never done that she might have done before. Hmm. Her earlier example, “Never have I ever worn boxers,” floated to the forefront of his mind. All right, the topic could be clothing. “Never have I ever worn a dress.” And just because he was in a playful mood, he threw in a short, little eyebrow raise that she could interpret however she wanted.

[Wendy Palmer]

[/color]

Wendy didn’t even try to stop her grin as Ian took a drink, though she figured that that question was more of a given anyway. Still, the more she got him to drink, the more she won. “That’s not part of the game,” she first answered coyly when he asked if she’d like to try, but then grinned, shrugged, and shook her head. “I’m allergic,” she offered in explanation, even though it was a lie. Wendy definitely wasn’t allergic to horses, she just… she didn’t like them. They’d scared her quite badly when she was a child, and she never bothered coming around. Besides, barns always smelled awful anyway; she got enough of that with sheep back home. It was just easier to say she had an allergy than to list reasons why she didn’t like horses for people to try to argue with. She giggled as Ian raised his eyebrow at her, then took an obligatory drink before wiping her mouth and peering at him. She wanted to ask him something better than what they’d worn or didn’t wear – oh. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping,” she said, biting her lip. Hah, she definitely looked forward to his answer for that. Not that Wendy was trying to think about Ian being naked.

Of course not.

… Hah.

[/blockquote]

[Ian Fleming]

Ian smiled when Wendy told him that answering questions was not part of the game. “Maybe it should be,” he replied calmly. Upon hearing that she was allergic to horses, Ian uttered a simple “Hmm.” If she couldn’t be near horses, he wouldn’t be able to take her to the stables. Offering to teach her how to ride would be pointless. Raising an eyebrow at the statement Wendy had challenged him with, Ian rested his gaze on her bottom lip as she drew it into her mouth with her teeth. He sort of wanted to kiss her now, perhaps nibble on that lip of hers with his own teeth. As he looked down into his cup, his lips pursed just the slightest bit before he swallowed another mouthful of his drink. Ian had indeed gone skinny dipping before, once. It had happened one summer at the farm on a particularly hot day. He’d fallen asleep under the tree by the swimming hole on his uncle’s land only to wake half an hour later. The shade hadn’t been enough to keep him cool, so Ian decided to go swimming. Unfortunately, he didn’t have his swimming trunks with him. Seeing that no one was around and feeling too lazy to go back to the farmhouse for his trunks, he’d simply decided to take off his clothes and swim in the buff. It wasn’t a very exciting story. But Wendy didn’t need to know that. As he set his cup back down on the table, he kept eye contact with her, completely unembarrassed by the idea of his nudity. Absently swirling the liquid in his cup, Ian considered his next move. The way the game was going, they’d probably get pretty drunk. He knew his own tolerance for alcohol, but he wondered what Wendy’s was. “Never have I ever thrown up from drinking too much.”

[Wendy Palmer]

[/color]

Wendy couldn’t deny that she was a little relieved at getting out of horseback riding, since she was pretty sure Ian wanted to take her. But it was a little embarrassing to admit that she just wasn’t fond of the animals. Sure, they were pretty enough, but experiences as children could affect the rest of one’s life, and Wendy was pretty sure that was the case with her and horses. She laughed as Ian drank, thereby admitting to having gone skinny-dipping. “You’re going to tell me that story later,” she giggled. She listened to his question, but didn’t bring her drink up. “Out of luck with that one.” And the game continued, the two of them coming up with scenarios they’d never done, the other drinking or not drinking, and Wendy was learning bits and pieces more about Ian – though whether or not she’d remember was questionable, since she had taken quite a few drinks and was getting rather giggly. A few rounds later, she had a rather nice buzz, and had just taken a drink to one of his questions when she decided to spice things up a little bit with her next one. “Never have Iiiiii ever,” she paused for effect, leaning forward and changing her voice to a stage-whisper, “been caught while fooling around with someone.” She kinda wanted to fool around with Ian… but no. Not now. Not while they were a little tipsy. It’d be bad. Well. Good, but also bad. Hah.

… What had she just asked, again?

[/blockquote]

[Ian Fleming]

Ian was the sort of person who became more relaxed the more he drank. By now, he was leaning back a fair amount, indulging in the coziness of his chair. He was ahead, of sorts, in the game, depending on what being “ahead” meant. He now knew that Wendy had never shoplifted, never gone fishing, never enjoyed reading poetry, never gone streaking, never broken a bone, never had sex on a dormmate’s bed, and never read a skin magazine. She now knew that he’d never been to a zoo, never gotten scared by a horror movie, never dated a redhead before, never kept a piece of clothing on during sex, never been in Madam Puddifoot’s, never had sex standing up, and never skived off a class. Due to those volunteered tidbits, Wendy had had to drink a few more times than Ian had, thus putting Ian ahead (or behind, if they were judging by the amount of alcohol consumed). But now it was Wendy’s turn to challenge him again. His relaxed posture remained the same even as the racy memory that her question brought to mind surfaced. He and Sooz had been seeing each other at the time, and Ian remembered having felt particularly lustful that day. They’d come into his dormitory snogging heavily, and, in their passionate haste, didn’t manage to fully close the curtains around his bed before taking off all their clothes. Aidan had walked into the room a few minutes later to find Sooz on top of Ian, completely naked. The two of them had been completely unembarrassed to be caught in the middle of having sex, merely pausing momentarily at the interruption before closing the curtains the rest of the way and continuing what they were doing. Languidly lifting his cup, Ian took a large gulp. Had he been caught while fooling around with someone? Definitely. Hmm. The way this game was going, his life was starting to sound rather risqué. Well, maybe it was.

He wondered vaguely if Wendy’s was as well. “Never have I ever… cheated on someone,” he said, keeping his eyes steadily upon her face.

[Wendy Palmer]

[/color]

Wendy was losing this game. Maybe she had a lower tolerance for alcohol than Ian, but she was definitely far tipsier than he was. Every now and then she let out a small giggle and a hiccough, even when nothing made her laugh. Ian was telling her all sorts of things about himself that intrigued her and she really, really hoped she remembered in the morning so that she could ask him about them. Her bottle was nearly empty, despite her small sips; if she finished it off, the game would be over and he’d win. She didn’t mind losing to Ian, not really. She already lost poker to him, but didn’t consider it to be a total loss. Nah, the loss there was that the party was an absolute disaster, and that was always upsetting because Wendy wanted to host good parties. She liked parties. She also liked Ian, a lot. She liked his strong jaw and she liked his broad shoulders and she liked his green eyes and she liked the little splash of freckles on his nose. One day she’d have to count them. The idea of holding his face still and being close enough to count his freckles got her giggling again, so much that she almost missed his question, but she stopped when she heard it. Her face became serious and her chuckles died away as she stared back at him for a few moments. Had she cheated on someone? Yes. Not that she wanted to. She’d slept with Christian while she was dating Damien. (Later, she found out that Damien had slept with Sadie, and decided not to fess up about her own one-night-stand.) It was a drunken mistake, but it happened. No one, not even Lucy, knew that deep down, Wendy felt absolutely terrible about the situation. Not only did she cheat on Damien, but she had led Christian into thinking she had feelings for him when he was just a friend. Because things worked out the way they did, Wendy had managed to suppress the guilt, but she knew it was there. Keeping his gaze, Wendy lifted her bottle to her lips and took a swig. Now there was only a mouthful left. Hopefully her next couple questions could at least get him caught up to her.

“I’ve never been in love.”

[/blockquote]

[Ian Fleming]

Ian watched in interest as a serious expression came over Wendy’s face. Her laughter stopped, which was a bit unfortunate, because Wendy had a cute giggle. And a cute smile. And a cute face. She was cute. Yes. She didn’t look that cute at the moment, staring so seriously, but he didn’t mind. As she drank, Ian lifted an eyebrow, surprised and impressed by the way she held his gaze while doing so. It was rare for her to be so direct in her honesty, but this moment was making him even more interested in her than he already was. Other people might have been put off by the revelation that someone they were dating had cheated before, but Ian didn’t let it bother him. He didn’t believe in judging a person solely on her past mistakes. He believed in forgiveness. He wanted to create his own relationship with Wendy, unburdened by the mistakes they’d each made with other people. Wendy’s willingness to admit to such a shameful act despite the risks to her relationship with him was encouraging. She’d cheated on someone, but she’d decided not to hide it from Ian. To him, that honesty merited some trust. He wouldn’t let the possibility of her cheating on him affect his current relations with her.

When Wendy posed the question of whether he’d ever been in love, a slow smile crossed his face, followed by a shaking of his head. He had had strong feelings for some of his ex-girlfriends before, particularly his two most recent ones. These feelings had even been strong enough for him to say with full honesty that he loved them, but he couldn’t honestly admit to ever having been in love with anyone. He’d never felt that kind of love. He didn’t even know how it felt, but he supposed he’d just recognize it if he did feel it someday.

Unabashedly watching Wendy as he considered his next question, Ian slowly licked his lips. God, she was cute. “I’ve never wanted to kiss someone this much.” Hmm. He wasn’t sure how much he’d meant to say that. The alcohol was steadily gaining a stronger influence on him. Oh, well.

[Wendy Palmer]

[/color]

Ian didn't question Wendy about her unfaithful past. She was partially glad, but for some reason she didn't think she would have minded if he had. Maybe it wa the alcohol talking, but she probably would have confessed the whole truth to him if he asked - the real truth, not just Wendy's version of it. Honesty wasn't necessarily rare for Wendy Palmer, but she had definitely been known to lie without much thought or remorse. For some reason, another small giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it and her cheeks grew warm as she blushed, ducking her head a bit and looking up at Ian from under her lashes. Had she ever wanted to kiss someone this much? A more-sober Wendy would have recognised that it wasn't really a fair question since only Ian knew how much "this much" was, but the Wendy sitting in the common room could only think about the fact that she'd just lost the game. Because now that Ian mentioned it, kissing him seemed like the best damn idea possible and her lips automatically puckered a little. "Never been kissed in the rain," she found herself whispering, though there was no point to that anymore. She looked at the alcohol left in her bottle and swished it around before taking her final swig. "By the way," she said with a lick of her lips, "I do want to kiss someone this badly." Then Wendy did the only thing that made sense at this point in the game: she leaned forward and congratulated the winner with a kiss.

[/blockquote]

[Ian Fleming]

Wendy was blushing again. That, combined with the way she was looking at him, made his desire to kiss her even stronger. Looking at her lips, he barely caught what she whispered next. Hmm. She’d never been kissed in the rain. Given the connection to what he’d just said about wanting to kiss her, Ian wondered if being kissed in the rain was something she wanted to happen to her. Silently storing that information in the back of his mind, he watched her take a swig, lick her lips, and lean toward him. His eyes closed automatically as her lips pressed into his. She didn’t actually taste good. Normally—it had been less than a week since they’d first kissed, but already he was quite familiar with her lips—Wendy tasted fairly pleasant, but right now she tasted almost entirely like the contents of the bottle she’d just polished off. But he didn’t care, because the pressure and soft texture of her lips on his was amazing. Returning the kiss, he pushed it into more passionate territory by nibbling and sucking on Wendy’s bottom lip. Kissing her felt really good, and it felt even better to know that she wanted to do it just as much as he did. He wasn’t sure it made any sense for her to have taken a drink just before, though. By taking that drink, she could have been saying that she had wanted to kiss someone this badly in the past, and therefore this wasn’t the most she’d ever wanted to kiss someone. But she’d just said she did, so maybe she shouldn’t have taken that last drink, according to the rules. Either way, Ian supposed that what he’d said had been confusing, so when his lips finally separated from Wendy’s, he murmured, “I think I cheated. Maybe.” Wendy’s bottle was empty, but Ian didn’t want the game to end yet. Pouring liquid into his cup from the bottle on his side of the table, he smiled and shook his head in response to her previous statement. “Neither have I. And I’ve never… kissed someone of the same gender.”

[Wendy Palmer]

[/color]

Kissing Ian. Was. Awesome. Wendy hadn't kissed a looot of guys, really - a fair few, er, only five before Ian (right? She honestly wasn't sure at this point - no, six, or... Well, less than ten anyway) but still, Ian was pretty high on her list of favourites. Even with his booze breath, he knew juuust how to add the right amount of pleasure to make Wendy's jeans feel a tad too tight. Hah. That was probably inappropriate. But she probably made him cross his legs too. Fair trade. Except Ian didn't cross his legs. He was more of the 'if you've got it, flaunt it' type, only without the flaunt, so more of just the 'yeah I'm actually turned on by snogging you. Problem?' type. Wendy didn't mind either way. He was sucking on her lip and she moaned a little, smiling a bit trough the kiss because oh Merlin drunk or not, he knew how to make a girl melt with his mouth. Finally he pulled away and Wendy was about ready to pack it in, but then be was sharing his drink and saying another thing he'd never done. Wendy lifted her glass teasingly to her lips, then giggled and shook her hand. "Nnnnope," she said in a sing-song voice, shaking her hair out. "Never have I ever..." she paused in thought, running her finger around the edge of the glass, causing it to ring gently. Couldn't do that with a square glass. It was just the circle ones. Just the o-shapes... Oh. Oh. She giggled again, her face going pink as the question came to mind. ... No pun intended. Wendy lowered her voice, as though she was saying something very naughty. Through her giggles, she managed to get out her turn:

"I've never... Hah, I've never had an... orgasm."

And then she broke into uncontrollable giggles as though it was the funniest idea she'd ever had.

[/blockquote][/color]

[Ian Fleming]

Ian supposed he would have had an erection by now if he hadn’t had so much to drink. Wendy’s moaning was making him want to pull her into his lap. For a split second, he was stumped as to how he’d be able to get her very attractive bum across the table into his lap; then he realized that she could just move her attractive hips around the table to his side. Drunk problem-solving. Hah, as Wendy would say. Maybe. For Ian, getting drunk tended to mean getting very relaxed and eventually sleepy. For Wendy, getting drunk seemed to mean blurting revelations that made her blush and bursting into fits of giggles. Cute ones. Giggles, not revelations. Redirecting his attention to what she’d said, he finally began to process her newest revelation. He stared at her for a long moment, a bit too surprised to respond. “You’ve never had an orgasm,” he finally repeated. After a moment, he murmured, “Hmm,” his lips curving into a grin that could easily be considered saucy.

He didn’t know why he wanted to tell her the next thing on his mind—or even why it was on his mind—but he did it anyway: “I’ve never won a snowball fight.”

[Wendy Palmer]

[/color]

Wendy was pretty good at pretending and faking (like when she had to fake – teehee! – orgasms), but she definitely wasn’t faking being sloshed. The more time went on, the worse it got. Now, she was right tipsy and ready for bed, but Ian was still playing. She smiled at him, too tired to even giggle, when he repeated that she never had the Big O, and simply shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. And to Wendy, it really wasn’t. Sex still felt good and she liked it, even if there wasn’t really a ‘big finish’ for her. Ian seemed to be recovering from his surprise, though, and said he’d never won a snowball fight. Wendy let out a small chuckle, though it sounded more tired than before, and took her final sip. When she was younger, before Hogwarts, she had played with The Boys. She, Ryan and Tommy had won against Jamie, George and Bill, but she hadn’t been in a snowball fight since.

“Good game, Cap’n,” she said, giving Ian a lazy salute. “Think I’m done now, though. Congrats.” She leaned heavily to the left so that she was partially laying down on the couch, then looked down at her legs, wondering if she should bother lifting them up onto it too. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, she left them where they were, gave Ian another smile, and closed her eyes.

It had been a really good night.

[/blockquote][/color]

[Ian Fleming]

Ian’s eyebrow twitched upward when Wendy addressed him as “Cap’n.” An amused smile spread across his face as he remembered the first time she’d called him that, passing notes in class at the beginning of the year. It had been “Captain Observant” back then, if he remembered correctly. He wondered briefly if this meant that she still referred to him by that nickname in her own mind. As Wendy sank lazily into the couch cushions, Ian just sat and watched, returning her smile fondly. After a while, he decided that he didn’t want to leave her on the couch all night, so he’d take her to bed. But he couldn’t take her up to her dormitory by himself; the stairs would send them sliding back down to the common room if he tried. Hmm.

Ian stood up and moved toward the couch on which Wendy was lying. Bending his knees and sliding his arms underneath her body, he made sure he had a good hold behind her back and under her knees before straightening up and lifting her off the cushions. Turning, he noticed the empty paper bag, bottles, and cups on the table. Ian shifted Wendy’s weight in his arms briefly, quickly drawing his wand out of his pocket. Aiming his wand at the items, he nonverbally Banished them into a nearby rubbish bin. The paper bag teetered on the edge of the bin for a long moment before finally dropping into it—Ian wasn’t sure if that meant he needed to practice more or be sober. Probably both.

Wendy’s body was light enough that Ian didn’t have trouble carrying her as he climbed the stairs to the sixth year boys’ dormitory. He did have to move slowly, though, to make sure her head didn’t bump the wall of the spiraling staircase. He liked her head. It was red. Redhead. No. Yes. When he finally approached the right door, he leaned against it for a moment before remembering that he needed to turn the knob somehow. His wand was still in his hand, so he shifted his position to better aim it at the door. It took two tries before he managed to perform the correct wrist flick, causing the door to open inward. He carefully angled Wendy’s body through the opening and carried her to his bed by the window.

About to lower Wendy onto the bed, Ian realized that he needed to pull the covers back before he could set her down. Sighing a little, he made a couple of swishing motions with his wand, whispering the necessary incantation to move the blanket because he would have difficulty performing yet another nonverbal spell so soon. Setting her down gently, Ian gently withdrew his arms and stretched his muscles a little. Tilting his head as he looked down at the unstirring Wendy, he wondered if she might have drunk too much. Glancing around, he spotted a rubbish bin and brought it near, setting it next to the bed by her head. Smiling a little, he smoothed her hair and then walked around the bed to settle in on the other side. He could go to sleep now, but he wanted to remember tonight, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust his memory.

Ian quietly reached into one of the drawers of the nightstand by his bed and took out an old, battered notebook. A ballpoint pen was clipped to the cover. Taking the pen in his hand, he uncapped it, opened the notebook, and began to write.