Tooth Ache

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by SkinXLess

Lily Evans couldn't sleep.

It wasn't because finals were coming up (though they were). It wasn't because her suitemates were having loud and aggressive sex at two in the morning and the sounds of headboards, bed springs, and fake moaning was driving her mad (thought it was). It wasn't even because that fit bloke in her Romantics Literature class had recently acquired an equally fit girlfriend (though, okay, that did bother her).

No, normally Lily Evans could sleep through anything – earthquakes, hurricanes, her sister Petunia's incessant criticism. So, what was keeping her up so late?

Her bloody wisdom teeth.

She had awoken the day before with a throbbing pain on the lower right side of her jaw. Her third molar was inflamed, and it hurt like hell. Being the weekend, she couldn't even get in to see a dentist until Monday.

So how did she cope with the pain induced insomnia? By doing her laundry, of course. She loaded up the weeks' worth of dirty clothes and headed for the laundry room in the basement.

The room was quiet, the florescent lights casting an eerie glow on the sterile looking room – white tiles, white machines, greying walls. She loaded up her clothes, then settled in for the long wait. She brought a book to pass the time. Jumping up onto the counter in the middle of the room, she began to read.

She was doing an alright job – the pain in her jaw only causing her to reread half the sentences – when a loud noise startled her. A giant laundry basket came crashing through the door and careening to the ground. The lanky man behind it managing to catch himself on the door before he met the same fate as his clothes, which were now strewn everywhere. "Fuck," he muttered, surveying the damage.

"It's not going to pick itself up," Lily said, placing her book in her lap.

The man looked up, blushing furiously. "I didn't realize anyone was here."

"Clearly."

He dropped to his knees, haphazardly sweeping his clothes back into his basket. Lily took the time to survey him. His glasses were slipping down his crooked nose, and his limbs seemed a bit too big for his body. Form the looks of his hair – dark and extremely tousled – he had just woken up. Although, that could've been a stylistic choice. Some guys liked having perpetually messy hair. He rose, and Lily took note at how tall her was. She liked her men tall.

He set to work emptying his basket into the nearest open washer, not even bothering to separate his whites. She tsked as she turned back to her book.

"What?" the man called. "I can feel you judging me."

"Have you ever done laundry before?" she asked.

"Of course, I have," He said before opening his bottle of detergent and just pouring some in.

"Sure," Lily said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were the laundry police." The man shot back as he closed the lid.

"The laundry police?" Lily repeated. "Is that the best you can do?"

The man jumped up onto the other end of the counter. "It's very early and I am operating on zero sleep, so forgive me for not being at full quipping potential right now. I assure you that if you find me sometime tomorrow, I will give you the verbal sparring of your life."

"Is that a promise?"

He surveyed her again. She knew how she must look to him with her flaming hair pulled up in a messy bun and her old pair of her dad's sweatpants. He must think her a right mess. "Yeah," he said at last. "It's a promise."

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