Fic: The Morning After

[dragonyphoenix]

Title: The Morning After
Rating: Mature; not work-safe; sexual content
Note: In the Responsible Adults verse, the story Three for the Road brings Joyce, Ethan, and Rupert together. This is an alternate look at how the next morning might have gone if Rupert was so hung over he didn't remember any of it.
Note: Written for a prompt at Drunken Giles: Three problems: Giles is trying to get home, he's very drunk, and someone appears to have stolen his clothes. But I changed Giles is drunk to Giles has a hangover, and then I woefully disregarded the hangover.

Rupert's head was splitting. He would have rolled over for more sleep except for one thing. It wasn't his bed. When he cracked open one eye, he got his first shock. Sitting up in the bed he scanned the room quickly but efficiently, taking everything in. He'd only been here once before and there'd been a demon mask on the wall at the time, but this was Joyce's bedroom.

His clothes weren't anywhere to be seen. This was bad, completely irresponsible. A dalliance with his Slayer's mother … well, it shouldn't have happened the first time much less a second. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and then peered underneath the bed. Still no sign of his clothes. He wondered how he'd gotten there. The last thing he recalled, he and Ethan had been drinking. Ethan. Ethan must have put something in his drink although how he'd inveigled Joyce …

“This is a lovely picture.”

Joyce! Who must be getting quite the view of his arse. Rupert's hand slipped and he fell off the bed and onto the floor. When he looked up Joyce was standing over him. “Are you alright?” She was wearing a teddy, apricot in color, underneath a sheer robe that went no lower than the top of her thighs. Good Lord but he'd forgotten what an amazing pair of legs she had. As he felt himself harden, Rupert grabbed the blanket and pulled it down to cover himself.

She was smirking now like a playful little kitten, and he really shouldn't be thinking such thoughts. “I seem to have mislaid my clothes.” He wondered if he could get out of there with any shred of his dignity.

She looked embarrassed as if expecting a rebuke. Really, she shouldn't be. He was certain she'd done nothing wrong, not that he could remember any of it. But no, it was all Ethan's fault. “They're hidden,” she said.

“Hidden?” He wasn't quite sure what they'd been talking about.

“Your clothes. He said you'd leave if you could find them and, well, I was sort of hoping you wouldn't.”

“He?” The pieces were coming together and forming a most dreadful whole: Joyce's rather evocative lingerie; his own state of undress; his drinking companion from the night before.

“Hello Ripper.” He stood by the door in a button down shirt, unbuttoned, that left nothing to the imagination.

“Ethan.” Rupert rose to his feet with a growl. Hiding his nudity with the blanket while pummeling Ethan was about to prove a bit difficult but then Rupert had always enjoyed a challenge.

He'd taken two steps across the room before he felt Joyce's hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. “Rupert. Stop!”

He stopped. He couldn't say why, but he did stop.

“What do you think you're doing?” she asked, her voice full of outrage.

“He … Defending your honor … You must remember the band candy!”

“I do believe he doesn't remember last night.” Ethan's voice sounded too terribly smug. Rupert's hand tightened into a fist but before he could move in he felt Joyce's hand on his shoulder. He stopped and she darted between them. Ethan stepped in closer and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Ethan brought his lips close to Joyce's ear. “Isn't that disappointing. Such a delightful evening too.”

Joyce reached a hand out toward Rupert's cheek but stopped a mere inch shy. “You really don't remember?”

Rupert felt himself shaking as images flashed through his mind. Ethan's head between Joyce's thighs as he held her from behind. Her hands crushing his as she came. The look on her face just before he came into Ethan. “Good God, no.”

Joyce's hand fell to her side. “I'm afraid he doesn't want to.”

“Oh, he wants us.” Ethan told her. “Rupert has a tendency to dive straight into denial. For some reason he thinks he'd much rather fight than fuck. It's quite the most egregious sin.” He ripped the blanket out of Rupert's hands. “There, you see?”

Rupert felt more than naked before them but did nothing to cover his body. “I'm afraid … My head ...”

“Is that all?” Ethan removed his arm from around Joyce's waist and brought both hands up as he stepped forward. As Ethan massaged at his temples, Rupert could feel tiny streams of magic chasing his hangover away. “You aren't honestly about to disappoint the lady, are you? Remember how soft the underside of her breasts felt under your hands as you brushed your fingers there, your touch as light as feathers. Remember her lips on your ...” Rupert remembered what it had felt like, her lips on his cock, her tongue tracing feather light up the shaft, her mouth wrapped around him, sucking hard.

When Rupert opened his eyes, Joyce still looked worried. He really should go. He leaned in and kissed her. He drew away and wanted to kiss Ethan but couldn't bring himself to be the aggressor there and so he stared at Joyce instead. She really did have the most delightful smile. “There. You see?” Ethan's voice seemed both distant and close. He felt Ethan's hands on his chest.

“I do believe you're right,” Joyce said, and then her hands were on him as well.

Rupert allowed them to lead him to the bed.