This wound up having us arrive late at dustraven and trystan_laryssa's, and the porch light's inactive state indicated that they'd probably crashed out for the night. So we grabbed dinner and went over to Figment's to watch The Sixth Sense. (I swear, the man's getting me up to speed on current culture.) After that, I changed into the nightgown I'd brought and crashed out on the couch; we had vague plans involving Saturday morning cartoons for when we woke up. He'd gotten chocolate milk just in case I wound up over there. (He's so very sweet...)
I woke up around nine to Figment urgently shaking me by the ankle. "My parents are here!" he hissed.
Now, for background, Figment is a good 12.5 years older than I am, but he is also the baby of the family, and a member of a conservative religion that would generally frown on having a scantily-clad pagan girl sleeping on the couch, just in case something steamy might potentially go on, or even if it wouldn't, just because it looks bad. He has never had to sneak around with girls with his parents before.
He has recently been having your standard assortment of homeowner headaches, mostly involving plumbing, and the tearing-apart of walls in order to fix same plumbing. His parents have been helping him out.
I grabbed my clothes and scattered for the guest bathroom, which was perhaps not the best of choices. I dressed there, then judged that the coast was clear and came out and sat in the den quietly, figuring that this would work with whichever way Figment wanted to play it -- either I'd be dressed and presentable to introduce to the parents, or I'd be out of sight so he could maintain plausible deniability by finding somewhere for me to hide.
Figment opted to have me hide somewhere.
"This is one of those things that's going to get worse, rather than better, the longer it goes," I cautioned, thinking that what would be worse than Figment's parents walking in and seeing a strange woman sleeping on the couch would be for Figment's parents to unexpectedly discover a strange woman who Figment had been hiding from them, long enough after they got there that there would be no doubt that we'd been trying to conceal my presence, leading to uncomfortable questions like, "Just how well do you know my son, anyway?" and those other ones about religion.
Figment ran me down the hall and into the closet in the master bedroom. He settled me on the floor, slid the door closed, flipped on the light, and zoomed off to interact with his parents. I curled up on a convenient blanket and attempted to take a nap.
Figment eventually came to check on me, and at my hissed instructions, turned off the light. The closet was large, for a closet, but cluttered and crowded, without any room to stretch. I was getting very thirsty, and I needed to use the bathroom. A nap sounded like my best option. I tried to shift position silently.
There were intermittent brief conferences with Figment, mostly involving how to get me out in time to go home in a timely fashion, and how to convince his parents to leave. He'd never been in a situation where he'd wanted or needed to boss them around before.
Shouldn't I have been through with this in high school? I wondered, and diverted myself by trying to think back and remember if I'd done any hiding in closets during my high school era, or if I'd had anyone hiding in a closet. (I hadn't in high school, but there had been a guy hiding in a closet in my dorm during my first attempt at college for G-rated reasons, and then there were a few comedies of panic involving BJ's mother and her not seeing me in BJ's room.) In any case, the situation struck me as far too juvenile to be the sort of thing that a woman my age, let alone a man his age, should be engaging in, and that struck me as hilariously funny. I kept myself from laughing.
Figment eventually managed to imply that he had stuff to be getting done that he wanted to get done without tripping over parents. "You have about two minutes if you want to sneak out now," he whispered to me, and left the closet door open.
I looked around me. He'd moved my bag with my keys to a convenient location nearby, but I didn't know where my shoes were. I slid the door back mostly closed again, caught Figment's eye, and shook my head vigorously. No! Your cunning plan has failed! He acknowledged my signal, and I ducked out of sight just as his father came into view (ahead of schedule according to Figment's two minute estimate).
His parents left, then, and I was able to come out of the closet. Figment apologized profusely for the entire situation; I cracked up laughing at long last.
It's those little bonding experiences...