The Plan (Prank challenge)
Warning - contains slash references
The Plan
Bors woke up hung over. He could hardly open his eyes. Once he’d forced both eyes open he wished he’d kept them closed. Where in hell was he? This wasn’t his room, Vanora’s hut, or the stockade; any the places he found himself after a night of drinking.
It was familiar in appearance, perhaps it was one of the other knights’ room. Just then he felt the bed sway, and realized he wasn’t alone in it. He scrambled to pull something over himself, for some reason he didn’t want to be naked. A hand came into view; long fingers, elegant, definitely not feminine.
“Bloody hells! I couldn’t have, no!” Bors surged up off the bed dragging the blanket with him. How did he come to be naked in Tristan’s bed?
Tristan sat up on the side of the bed, naked and uncovered since Bors had the blanket. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you jumping around like a virgin in a room of Romans?” Tristan glanced at Bors through tangled hair. He scratched at his chin regarding the burly knight, “You’re not upset about last night? I didn’t hurt you?” Tristan sounded concerned.
Bors, his face flushed was suddenly dizzy, “What the in hell are you talking about? Nothing happened last night, and you damn well better remember that!” Bors swore at the scout as he moved to gather up his clothing laying scattered on the floor.
Tristan fell back onto the bed after Bors had left the room. Minutes later Gawain burst in the door, near to tears with laughter.
“That was perfect.” Gawain gasped.
“What did he say?” Tristan asked as he pulled Gawain onto the bed beside him. Both were giggling like teenager girls at the success of their plan.
The Plan
Bors woke up hung over. He could hardly open his eyes. Once he’d forced both eyes open he wished he’d kept them closed. Where in hell was he? This wasn’t his room, Vanora’s hut, or the stockade; any the places he found himself after a night of drinking.
It was familiar in appearance, perhaps it was one of the other knights’ room. Just then he felt the bed sway, and realized he wasn’t alone in it. He scrambled to pull something over himself, for some reason he didn’t want to be naked. A hand came into view; long fingers, elegant, definitely not feminine.
“Bloody hells! I couldn’t have, no!” Bors surged up off the bed dragging the blanket with him. How did he come to be naked in Tristan’s bed?
Tristan sat up on the side of the bed, naked and uncovered since Bors had the blanket. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you jumping around like a virgin in a room of Romans?” Tristan glanced at Bors through tangled hair. He scratched at his chin regarding the burly knight, “You’re not upset about last night? I didn’t hurt you?” Tristan sounded concerned.
Bors, his face flushed was suddenly dizzy, “What the in hell are you talking about? Nothing happened last night, and you damn well better remember that!” Bors swore at the scout as he moved to gather up his clothing laying scattered on the floor.
Tristan fell back onto the bed after Bors had left the room. Minutes later Gawain burst in the door, near to tears with laughter.
“That was perfect.” Gawain gasped.
“What did he say?” Tristan asked as he pulled Gawain onto the bed beside him. Both were giggling like teenager girls at the success of their plan.