This appears in a pre-2010 issue
of Down in the Dirt magazine.
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Hangover
Laine Hissett-Bonard
Joel
I woke up with the sun blaring in my eyes, and I immediately squeezed them shut again and rolled onto my side, grimacing. I generally didn’t get hangovers, but it was never pleasant after a long night of excessive alcohol consumption to awaken with a billion watts baking into one’s retinas. My grimace lasted only as long as it took my hand to drop back to the mattress, because as it did so, my knuckles brushed against something warm, firm, and breathing, and I pried my eyes open again to see exactly whom I’d dragged into my bed the night before, mildly concerned that I had no memory whatsoever of having any kind of sex the previous night, but the answer to that made itself abundantly clear as soon as my eyes cracked open far enough for me to determine the identity of the party lying passed out beside me.
Sammiekins.
A slow, sleepy smile spread over my lips, morphing into a yawn in the middle, and I sighed happily, allowing my knuckles to brush gently over Sam’s t-shirt-clad ribs. Of course nothing sexual took place in my bed the night before — Sam was as straight as they came, and one of my best friends in the world to boot — but that didn’t stop my mind from wandering a little as I lay there, slowly dragging myself from the lingering depths of sleep, my eyes meandering over Sam’s sleeping form.
Even the victim of a booze-induced coma, he was a vision of deliciousness. His hair was longer than usual — whether he was experimenting in fashion or simply too lazy to get an actual haircut, I had no idea, but either way, he looked adorable — and fanned out over the rumpled red pillowcase beneath his head in a spray of dark, lazy curls. His perfect cupid’s bow lips were parted to allow his slow, even breaths passage, and a faint dampness at the near corner indicated that he’d been drooling not long before, a realization that made me grin.
Straight or no, that boy could drool in my bed any day.
As I watched him, Sam started a little, grunted softly, screwed up his face, and groaned without even opening his mouth, and I chuckled when one brilliant blue eye slit open just enough to peer through his dark lashes before squeezing shut again.
**
Sam
“Good morning, sunshine!”
“Ungh...” I covered my face with my hand, pouting against my palm. I tried to say something, but it came out as a mishmash of random consonants, so I cleared my throat, removed my hand, and tried again, my eyes squeezed tightly shut all the while. “How the hell are you so wide awake already?”
“I don’t get hung over,” Joel said, and I felt the bed shift as he moved closer to me, trailing his fingertips up and down my incredibly ticklish ribcage. I started to laugh, but it hurt my head too badly, so I merely groaned instead, and he repented and just placed his hand on my belly instead.
“You drank way more than me.” I knew I was whining, but I couldn’t help myself; nothing made me complainier than a ripping hangover. “No fair.”
Joel chuckled, his low, decidedly incredible voice washing over me like trails of silk, and I sank deeper into the cushy pillow beneath my head, smiling a little. To hell with what anyone else thought; there was something damn funny about waking up in bed next to my favorite singer — tight friend or not — no matter how gay it might seem. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, babydoll, you look remarkably good for someone who’ll probably do a good job of keeping Tylenol in business today.”
I grinned, finally making an effort to force open my eyes and only regretting it for a moment when the late morning — or early afternoon, who could tell? — sunlight invaded my eyes. At least it was only momentary, because suddenly and characteristically thoughtfully, Joel inserted his head between my face and the window, and I sighed with relief as the welcome shade fell over my eyes. “And how the hell do you look so good?” I asked, blinking up at him where he rested beside me on his elbow, smiling down at me in amusement, his big green eyes wide and clear and just as infuriatingly pretty as ever. “Your fucking eyes aren’t even bloodshot. Christ, you don’t even look like you need a shave. Were you up already and showered and everything?”
Joel shook his head, loose waves of dark hair tumbling around his shoulders. Damn, he’d make a pretty chick. That thought put a weird feeling in my stomach, so I pushed it down, concentrating instead on watching his full, red lips as he spoke. “Nope,” he said, reaching up and gently brushing my hair off my forehead. “Just lucky, I guess. I can drink like a sailor and still wake up ready to run a marathon. That is, if I was into that kind of thing.” He shuddered prettily. “Ugh — the thought of physical activity that doesn’t involve sex just makes my skin crawl.”
I laughed, grimacing when a bolt of pain shot through my head as a result. “That’s my Joelsie.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said vehemently, lightly tweaking the sparse patch of hair I’d started to grow on my chin. “Now, Sammy-boy, how about I make us breakfast while you grab a shower? I bet you’ll even start to feel human again once you’re up and moving.”
**
Joel
“Fuck that — I ain’t getting up until at least five o’clock tonight.” Sam’s head lolled to the side, and I moved my own head slightly to keep the sun out of his eyes.
“Oh, come on,” I said, grinning and running my fingers over his faintly stubbled jaw. Even prickly with overnight growth, the feeling of his young skin beneath my fingertips was intoxicating, and my fingers itched to explore further, but I squashed the urge and placed my hand on the bed between us instead. “You’re only back in Cali for a few more days, and you’re telling me you want to spend a whole day in bed instead of letting me lavish attention on you and treat you like my own personal princess?”
Sam grinned. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that, but then again, maybe I do.”
“So get up, baby!” I bounced a little on the mattress, making Sam groan and swing at me, his loose fist connecting with my chest, but I captured his fingers in mine and kissed them. “Come on — I’ll make you breakfast and then we’ll go shopping. Or catch a movie, or even just cuddle on the couch and watch TV all day. Okay?”
“Why you gotta be so goddamn convincing?”
“The word is persistent, sweet pea, and I’m only trying to milk every last second out of my time with you that I can before you run off to have your cheeks pinched by all your crusty old great-aunties.” I bestowed a huge smile on him. “Now I’m getting up to cook, as scary a prospect as that might be, so you get your adorable ass out of this bed and into the shower. Got it?”
“Yes, Mommy.” Sam stuck out his tongue at me, and I had to fight the urge to bite it.
“Fabulous!” I abruptly rolled over on my way off the bed, conveniently rolling in Sam’s direction and ending up straddling his thighs with my hands braced on either side of his pretty little head. He laughed, his eyes squinching up in that adorable way he had, and I wanted so badly to just bend down and kiss him, to meet those precious lips with mine and kiss him like he’d never been kissed before... but both prudence and morning breath made me rethink it. Instead, I merely dipped down to nuzzle at his vaguely stubbled throat, making him giggle just before I realized I was beginning to grow hard and pulled back, mouthing him a kiss before I rolled off on the opposite side, allowing my hand to skate down his shoulder as I pushed myself up from the bed and paused in the doorway, glancing back at him over my shoulder.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Sammy-boy,” I purred, dropping him an exaggerated wink, and Sam flipped me the finger just as I slipped around the doorjamb and disappeared down the hallway, hoping like hell he hadn’t noticed I was half-hard, and all because of him.
As usual.
