She was exhausted. Auror training could do that to a person. So to be woken from a dead sleep with the immediate urge to pee was awful. Brett grumbled and climbed over Dax. When had he pushed his twin bed against hers? Normally he tried to consult her first before doing things like that. Damn that drawing straws and her ending up sharing that small room with Dax. She tripped, nearly face planted, and caught herself on the door frame. Sometimes Brett really hated Dax.

Wandering down the hall, she found the door to the bathroom and took care of business. One of the portraits in the hall started lecturing her about being up late. She stopped, stared at the painting for a minute, then turned it around on the wall. "Shut up," she muttered and continued back up the hall toward her room.

Opening the door, she could see the dark outline of the bed and made her back over to it. Crawling over Dax, she lifted the covers and moved to cuddle up next to him... but he was no longer in the position which she had left him. Brett pulled at the arms that were crossed over his chest. She thought to herself, in her sleep clouded mind, that it was unusual for Dax to sleep in that position. Even more unusual for him to be wearing pajamas to bed with her. He must have been up late- Dion always did fuss at him for wandering around the house in his underwear. She tugged, agitated, at the fabric. But when one of the buttons popped off she stopped.

Brett finally got him arms uncross, and she put it around her. Brett threw one leg over his gave him a quick peck. Sometimes being friends with Dax was convenient. Cuddles and attention without commitment. Perfect for Brett.

---

((All godmodding in this thread has been discussed & pre-approved.))

Dion groaned softly in his sleep. It had been a long day for him, too; Auror Training drained all of them, but given his focus on decorum, he tended to be exhausted even at the end of short shifts. He lay in bed, in his cheaply made but frankly  comfortable pajamas rumpled by the minimal amount of rolling he'd done. It was, overall, peaceful.

Until someone started shaking him and rubbing his chest. It didn't wake him, but he grunted and rolled onto his side, tugging at blankets that had suddenly become taught and heavy.

"Mrph," he said, sniffed, and rolled over onto his back again, wiggling his shoulders to settle back in.

Brett was most displeased when he rolled over again, back into the position she had just pulled him out of. Well, she was definitely awake now. Damnit. And if she was awake- Dax was going to be awake, too. It was his fault, after all. He had pushed their twin beds together at some point last night. This was an invitation for her to pay him some extra attention, wasn't it?

Dissatisfied and on the verge of becoming quite grumpy, Brett decided to make matters into her own hands. A devilish grin, she sat up in the bed and stretched before crawling on top of him, straddling his mid section. "Daaaxxxx," she called out quietly in the dark, placing a hand on either cheek. Leaning down, Brett pressed her lips against his and started to kiss him. If that didn't wake Dax up so she could put him in the appropriate sleeping position, then she had no idea what would.

Dion's dream was, suddenly, a very pleasant one. He didn't kiss - or get kissed - often, if at all, so the gentle feeling of it was nothing so bad. He murmured softly, turning his head slightly. This kissing was a bit more demanding than he'd like, admittedly. His brows slightly began to knit together.

"Mmm. Fau-" he started to say, and then, finally, his brain engaged and sent that tiny little message: This feels a bit too real.

His eyes shot open to stare in horror at the ceiling, time slowing to a standstill. But instead of the ceiling, what was over him was...well, out of all the women in this house, the last one he would want to be that close by.

"Augh!" he said, sensibly, sitting up with enough force to lift Brett with him, leaving her in his lap.

Brett's brow quirked for a moment as Dax came close to muttering Fauna's name instead of hers... But he was coming out of a sleep, and she was willing to let it slide. For now. She'd torture Dax about it later- when she wasn't trying to get his attention.

The Augh! was entirely misinterpretted. Especially as he sat up, with enough skill to keep her in his lap instead of toppling her over onto the mattress. Oh, hello. Brett grinned a little and wrapped her legs expertly around his waist. "Morning, gorgeous," she said quietly as she finished readjusting her position on his lap.

Brett- still unaware that she had found the bed of the wrong twin- was surprised when she tried to go back to kissing him that he threw her from his lap. Not in a playful way, either. But in a "Stop kissing me right now before I kick you out of the bed" sort of way.

"What the hell is your problem, Dax?" Brett snapped. "You're the one who pushed the beds together. The hell did you expect me to do when I woke up in the middle of the night? Ignore the signal?"

Dion stared at Brett in horror, his flash of shock quickly turning to confused anger. He was sputtering in surprise, the sounds not even being close to words, rubbing a hand through his hair. The blush was rising, even as he tried not to care about it, and the feeling as if the blush was starting at his feet and rising up his body an odd and disconcerting one.

Then she called him Dax, and he found words. Even in his humiliated and shocked state, Dion was quick to display one of the biggest differences between himself a Dax; even in anger, Dion was at least eloquent.

"My issue is that, first off," he said, starting to stand up and then chosing to remain on the bed, "There is only one bed in this room, Abraham, so I hardly see how I could have pushed them together! The larger issue is, of course, that I'm not Dax!"

When he called her Abraham, Brett knew she had made some kind of major mistake. Then he snapped that he wasn't Dax. Shit. She was embarrassed-and glad that it was still dark, so that Dion couldn't see her blushing. That was the last thing she needed. Brett moved to the foot of the bed, tossing the covers over her bare legs. Suddenly she felt under dressed.

"Well you could have said that before I started trying to make out with you!" Brett exclaimed. "Don't even try to pretend you weren't awake when I started moving you around. Nobody sleeps that heavily." Not true. Dax did sometimes. And Brett knew she could sleep through just about anything. But naturally this was all going to be Dion's fault for not waking up.

"Put on a damn light!" she ordered. Her own wand was in her room, and she didn't know her way around Dion's room in the dark well enough to do it herself. "If you aren't Dax, I sure as hell don't want to be alone with you in the dark in the middle of the night." The more she fussed, the louder her voice was getting. It wouldn't be long before Brett woke up half the house. Naturally this was her way of dealing with the fact she was mortified for having crawled in bed with Dax in the middle of the night.

Fauna awoke to the sound of raised voices.

At first, she flung a pillow over her head and tried to fall back asleep, wanting to slip back into a dream she'd been having about a party in a bakery, where everyone was dressed up as superheros and Aurors, and everyone was very attractive. She was sure it was going somewhere good, and then she'd woken up!

When the voices kept getting louder, Fauna stumbled out of bed and slipped on her cupcake slippers. Merlin, she was exhausted. Casting Lumos, she stomped the short distance to her bedroom door and flung it open, only to step right into another bedroom.

What the-

There were supposed to be stairs! Fauna blinked at her surroundings. The light from her wand illuminated the blue wallpaper, the heavy curtains, and of course, Brett climbing off of one of the twins with mussed hair and lots of ranting.

"Oh shite!" She bumped into the doorframe as she stepped back, shielding her virgin eyes with one dramatically flung hand.

Dion glared knives at Brett, every fiber of his being wanting to rise to his feet and yell, and yet knowing doing so would be foolish..and very, very embarrassing. For...reasons. He did, however, put on the light - which illuminated the fact that he was, indeed, not his brother - though the lack of boxers and dirty laundry being thrown all over the room was a good indicator as well.

He crossed his arms. "You're the one who can't tell our bedrooms, bed, or even us apart, Abraham!" He snapped. "And you're the one who crawls into my bed and you think I'm the one who should be avoided-"

All the angry words promptly fell from his mind when Fauna appeared - replaced by embarrassment, large and pink, which burst like a water balloon across the hot engine of his mind. "F-f-fauna?" he sputtered. "It's - it's not what it looks like!"

"I opened the door to my room and it emptied me out in here! I can't see the colors of your room in the dark. I thought I was crawling back into mine and Dax's beds!" Really. Like she would intentionally shack up with Dion. She might have once been curious about whether or Dax and Dion had any fundamental anatomical differences, but she had gotten over that fleeting question almost as soon as it had entered her mind.

When Fauna came into the room, and covered her eyes, Brett grunted. "You're not going to see anything you shouldn't!" she said to Fauna. Brett suddenly wished she had a robe of some sort. She might have covered up her legs, but she was still wearing just a tank top and some underwear. Neither of which felt as though they had enough substance at the moment. Especially considering the flimsy fabric of her top.

"The hell is wrong with this house?" Brett asked. "I went to the bathroom, came back to my room, and found myself in bed with Dion." She grinned at Dion thought, as he quickly assured Fauna it wasn't what it looked like. "Certainly not what it looks like..."

Brett was suddenly amused by the way Dion was spluttering- embarrassed. Why did he care what Fauna thought? Oh... that's right. "I may have confused you for Dax in the dark," she added. "But at least you and Dax are identical!" Brett looked to Fauna then. "He started to moan your name at me. As if you could mistake us for each other! Even in the dark!" Mean and cruel of Brett? Yes. But it would deflect Fauna's attention. And displace Dion's agitation.

So that was what had happened. The house had deposited Brett into Dion’s room by mistake. She felt a strange sense of relief. It was the house’s fault. The house of evil!

Fauna blinked dumbly for a moment when Brett said he’d—oh, no. He hadn’t. He couldn’t possibly have. But she peeked between her fingers at them anyway.

"What?" She turned wide eyes on Brett, her face beginning to match her pink cupcake slippers. Why had Brett told her that! Also evil!

“But!” It was Fauna’s turned to sputter. “This hasn’t happened before! It’s the… the stupid house!” She gestured with both hands between them, forgetting to shield her eyes. “I mean, I’ve not – you know, just gone hopping into people’s beds! So-" She was trying to explain the unexplainable.

“Dion!” She gave him the briefest of glances, still unable to look at him. Fix it!

The urge to strangle the befreckled one was rising like a tide. There was no way he'd muttered Fauna's name! He had more control than that! Fauna's reaction certainly did not help - she looked as disbelieving as he was. It wasn't that big a deal, was it? No! Yes it was!

Then she looked at him like she expected him to fix it! Well, that'd require standing up, which he wasn't about to do with both of them still there. Or even with both of them in an adjoining room -

"Oh, just get out, Abraham! Go sleep in the bathroom or something, I don't care!" He said, with a tone that didn't sound like he was sulking. At all. Really. "You're the one who assumed that Dax suddenly decided to change into clothing! How tired do you have to be to realize that never happens?"

Attention successfully diverted. Brett gave a silent Yes! in her head. Fauna seemed absolutely mortified. She felt a little bad about putting Fauna through that- but she'd be okay. Fauna was a tough cookie. And maybe by telling her that, it would alleviate some of that sexual tension between Fauna and Dion. "Maybe you should," Brett suggested. "Since Dion seemed totally okay with making out with me when he thought that I was you."

She rolled her eyes when Dion told her to just go away. And then he started babbling about Dax putting on clothes. Point taken. She should have known btter. but she wasn't about to let Dion win this argument. He would have no points in this game. None.

"If you must know," Brett said, "occasionally Dax puts on clothes just so that they are there for me to take them off." It had happened- once or twice. But never in the middle of the night. And not often enough for her to have thought this was the case. Still, Dion wouldn't know that. They all thought there was a lot more going on between herself and Dax than really was. (She might perpetuate that, too. Just a little. With comments like the one she had just made.)

"Stop being so damn melodramatic," she said to Dion. "It's not like you died. So what, you woke up with a chick on top of you. In what world is that something for you to complain about?"

Fauna shot a glare at Brett when she once again brought up the fact that Dion supposedly wanted to make out with her – she did not need to know! And what was worse, the blush on her cheeks started spreading down her neck in splotches. She tugged up the collar of her nightshirt so that her chin grazed the fabric, looking like she was going to duck down and hide in her clothes any moment now. Like the awkward turtle she was.

While she thought it strange that Dion hadn’t hopped to his feet yet, Fauna was too busy being self-conscious to analyze it. Or look too closely. Thankfully.

“Brett,” Fauna interjected with much embarrassment and exasperation. They were in Dion’s room. He had reason to be grumpy.

“Let’s just go. Come on.” She gestured at the door. Because gesturing would definitely work once Brett had her mind set on arguing. Of course it would!

Dion was not in the mood to hear justifications. Or hear, even in hinted detail, what Brett and Dax got up to - not that it was surprising, really, as Dax seemed to enjoy enlightening him in a regular basis. "I really don't care what you and my brother get up to, Abraham," Dion said, voice a defeated grumble. He wasn't going to argue her logic - or lack of it. Not here, not now. Except for one point! "The issue isn't the chick; it's the fact that you aren't a-"

But then a shape loomed up behind Fauna and Dion groaned, face cupped in his hands. That was the last thing he needed!

"What's all this hollering about?" Dax asked, arm casually falling over Fauna's shoulder as he leaned on the door frame, easy smile utterly inappropriate for the mood. "We having a pajama party and no one invited me? You guys are dicks."

Despite his casual manner, though, Dion could see Dax glancing between the two figures on the bed and almost hear the rusty gears of his brain beginning to turn.