Chapter 25

One eye cracked open to be greeted by the burning brightness that was the morning sun. Biting back a groan, he reached over to the night stand for his ever present shades, only to realize he wasn't in his bed. Wincing he opened both eyes to find himself on the couch under a blanket with a very warm female body curled into him. "Fuck me, what happened?"

She was all sugar and spice though, her scent coating his senses as his head dipped to kiss the top of her head, his arm reaching back over to snuggle her closer. Nothing like waking with an angel after an all night quarters party. Thing is why couldn't he remember what happened? Had he been THAT drunk? Shit, not possible, was it?

Surfacing, Kate rubbed her nose into her pillow like she did every morning and found...fur? That wasn't right? She cracked an eye open and immediately slammed it closed when the ice pick came spearing in. Jesus, just what had she done last night to deserve...and the memories came flooding back.

And when the couch moved beneath her, she stopped breathing. "Oh God, no."

His voice was a bit hoarse, "Uh, Morning Kate." He shifted on the couch, more to relieve pressure from the morning urges than anything, as he bit back a groan at what that shifting let him feel.

"No, no, no," she whispered. "This cannot be happening," she said and tried to open her eyes again. She felt under the blanket but it was skin and only skin beneath her. And when her fingertip bumped over a silky length of very male, very aroused flesh she leaped off the couch, taking the blanket with her.

He grinned at the expanse of milky flesh that flashed by him as the blanket was stolen. "Well you wake up real friendly like." He stretched then, his back arching and popping as he moved to sit up. "So um, well, this is interesting to say the least."

Her eyes slid from the devil-may-care grin to the...Sweet Mary, did he have no decency? "Would you cover that up?" she said trying to tamp down the horrified scream that was bubbling in her throat. The other part of her was trying desperately not to look back at the long line of athletic male that was on display.

His brow arched as a wicked gleam danced in his eyes, "Cover what honey? Not like you didn't have the benefit of feeling it all night long."

"Oh God," she turned around so she could see him or...any of that. "God, you're such a pig!" her voice started to rise. She could hear the hysteria start, but she couldn't seem to turn it off. "I couldn't have, I just..." she glanced over her shoulder and he still lay sprawled on the couch, his hard on tight to his belly as if he was ready to play. "Shit," she turned back around and caught a flash of red from the corner of her eye. Was that her underwear? "Sweet Jesus," she said and tucked the blanket around herself until absolutely no skin showed. "God!" she nearly shouted, exasperated and unable to even form other words at that point.

He stood and glanced around locating his jeans on the stereo, then a flash of red caught his eye and he choked back a laugh. Now, how the hell had they gotten there? "God's right honey." He moved towards the stereo, moving past her and just barely brushing against her as he snagged his jeans before turning to the bathroom. "I'll, uh, just give ya a moment to compose yourself, but if you’re looking your panties," He pointed up as he shut the bathroom door and leaned back against it, his head thundering as his stomach contemplated keeping down the half pint of tequila that still sloshed inside of him. There were worse ways to wake up with a hang-over.

Horrified tears started to gather at the corners of her eyes. "Jesus, Kate you really know how to fuck up, don't you?" She snapped the panties off the fan blade and nearly hurled when the world spun a bit from the look up and the thick coating of dust that came down with the lace.

Disgusted she tugged on her jeans and stuck her underwear in the pocket. She found her shirt across the room, inside out and half under a table. "I was this drunk?" she asked the empty room. "I should at least be able to remember wild sex if I have it, dammit," she said to herself. And suddenly a quick flash of memory hit and she remembered stripping out of the top.

She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. "God!" she hissed as the pain seared thru again.

Peeing with a morning hard-on was bad enough, but damn there should be some easing if he managed to get inside of her last night. As his body finally eased a bit, he shuffled to the sink and quickly brushed his teeth, hoping against hope he could scrape some of the hair off his tongue. Staring into the mirror, he pushed the overgrown hanks of hair away from his eyes. It wasn’t like him to black out, not on that little bit of tequila. "So, why can't I remember?” Disgusted, when only blood shot eyes stared back at him he scrubbed his face. “Fuck you, John Bongiovi, suck it up and go back out there.” He snapped a rubber band around most of his stupid, fucking hair and opened the door. “She can't kill ya for Christ-sakes." Plastering a grin on his face he re-entered the living room to do battle with the lioness.

She tugged down her shirt as he came in, but her gaze shifted when Elena followed by a sleepy Richie came out of his room. "This is all your fault! How could you leave me out here alone with....with," she felt her lips flap like a guppy but couldn't stop it. "With him!" she pointed at Jon.

Elena bumped back into Richie's warm chest trying desperately not to ruin the game. "Honey, you looked mighty comfortable to me when we came through for a shower."

"Oh God!" This just can’t be happening.

"Did she scream that a lot last night too, Jonny?" Richie asked, playing along.

Jon honestly couldn’t remember. Damn, he did wonder if she was a screamer. She felt like a screamer. Grinning, he swaggered into the kitchen. "Well she's screaming now. Hell, see how good I am? She’s still screaming AFTER the fact, Bro."

"Oh my Go-" and she cut herself off. How could she have slept with that pig? "I need to go...and I mean now." She glared at Elena. "Are you coming or am I calling a cab?"

Elena fought the urge to confess. Katy needed to learn how to loosen up, even if it included some hard love. She really never had seen her friend so unsettled. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had her share of one night stands over the years. "Um, Kate, the car’s at that club."

"Fine!” Disgusted that she’d even allowed herself to get into this situation she did what she always did. Put one foot ahead of the other and made a plan. “You stay here with…what did you call him all goddamn night? Oh right—Pony…and I'm going to just go..." she stalked around the room. Her purse had to be there. She wouldn't be stupid enough to lose that and her mind on the same goddamn night. Kate gave her first sigh of relief when she spotted the oversized black leather bag near the door. "I'll just need to use your phone," she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Aw Kate, you don’t wanna fuck and run do ya?” Watching Kate’s face flame, he pressed on. It hadn’t been that fucking bad, had it? “At least have breakfast with us then we can take you to your car. Besides, do ya really NOT wanna give Teensy time to say goodbye to the big guy?" He thumbed his hand at Richie.

Kate glanced at her friend all cozy with Richie, his arm was even settled around her waist as if he'd been doing it all his life. And immediately she could feel Jon’s crisp, soft hair under her hand. Of all the colossally stupid things you’ve done, this is one of the top five, Kate. "I'm not hungry."

"But Katy," he cocked his hip against the door jamb. "Look at them, I don’t think Teensy wants to go yet.”

Richie pushed Elena forward a bit and pressed an absent kiss at her temple. "I'll fry up some eggs and-" he cut himself off when Kate flew by him.

Finally the tequila and nerves collided and man, it wasn’t going to be good. "Bathroom!"

Surprised, Richie pointed, "Go left."

She pushed Jon out of the way, her hand over her mouth and the gagging noise that every hung-over person in life hated to hear was fairly obvious. Richie sighed, "I hope she made it," he said with an air of resignation.

"Don’t worry Richie, if she didn't she'll clean up behind herself,
with a little help from a friend." Her eyes pierced Jon to the core, when he just shrugged she needled him a little more. "Especially, a friend that HELPED her into her current situation."

Jon took a long hard look at Elena, "YOU seriously don’t mean that?"

Elena grinned and turned to the blue eyed man. "Try me, Sport, and find out." She turned back to Richie, a sudden thought overriding good sense. "YOU COOK?"

Richie nodded, "Yup, my mom said every man should be able to cook for himself. I'm pretty good at it actually."

“I don’t do dusting and I certainly don’t do vomit,” Jon muttered, opening the fridge.

“You’re the one that poured more down her throat, Moptop,” Elena countered.

"Okay children, we'll worry about the upchucking only if we have to." Richie headed into the kitchen. "How do you like your eggs?"

Elena grinned up at Richie and whispered, "Hard."

"Oh hell," he said and felt his dick respond as it always did to her. "You go see how she's doing, troublemaker," he said to her.

She stood up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. "Ok, I'll save your friend the horror." She turned and moved to the bathroom, the Lennon shirt again whispering around her and hinting at the curves beneath. AS she reached the bathroom she knocked softly. "Let me in Katydid."

"Go away, let me hurl in peace," she said through the door.