Jaguar and Falcon; Hangover

I've had this one sitting around in reserve for forever now. I figured it was time to pull it out, dust it off, and fix it up a little. So here it is.

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Andrew groaned and turned over, his hand coming to rest on his face.

I turned my gaze from the television to where he was sitting up and rubbing at the whiskers on his chin. I took a sip of my coffee as I watched Andrew rub at his eyes, blink hard several times to clear his vision and then flick his gaze quickly between the two of us. His eyebrows sat back on his forehead as he noticed the fact that he was half naked and I was wearing his t-shirt. Andrew's brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry,” I told him. “Nothing happened.”

His face seemed to relax, but grew faintly puzzled. “Nothing?” he groaned.

 I felt a slight heat rise in my face. “Not like our situation would imply.”

The puzzled look deepened. “Leave it to you to speak so eloquently when you’re hung-over.”

“Says the man using the word ‘eloquently,’ ” I shrugged, causing my head to throb a little harder. “Despite being half-naked, no, we didn’t have sex.”

“Gotcha.”

I turned away and reached for a mug sitting on the nightstand. I handed it to him. Andrew met my eyes.

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Keep up,” he grunted. “We were both drunk and, last I remember, fooling around. Why didn’t we?”

My eyes drifted back to the television. “You answered it. We were drunk.” I took another drink of my coffee, which had cooled to nearly room temperature.

Andrew shifted on the bed. He set his cup on the nightstand near him and then moved closer to me. One of his arms slid under my pillow as he leaned close. His forehead touched mine.

“So?”

I reluctantly pushed him away. “Don’t do this Andrew.”

“Do what?”

I shook my head and attempted to slide a little farther away. Andrew got the hint and pulled away. He turned over and picked up his mug. It only took him a moment to drain it and then he was sliding out of bed. I watched him disappear into the bathroom. The sound of rummaging came from the drawers and after a couple more minutes Andrew emerged. He tipped his head back, popped a couple aspirin, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. His curls were mussed; a combination of bed head and my fingers in the early hours of the morning.

The pink light of the rising sun filled the room, causing Andrew’s bronzed skin to glow. The scars that littered his back were barely visible, but I could see them from where I was at. It was probably only because I knew where to look.

“God, my head is pounding.”

Andrew leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands, where his fingers massaged his temples.

“How much did I drink last night?”

I set my empty mug on the nightstand. “Enough to drown a horse.”

“And you?”

“Enough to drown a slightly smaller horse.”

He turned around enough to look at me. “And you feel okay?”

I rolled my eyes. “If by ‘okay’ you that I have a dry mouth, pounding head, and an achy body, then yeah, I’m okay.”

“And you're irritable,” Andrew muttered. His voice was a little louder when he addressed me again. “You’re a bitch when you’re hung-over.”

I rolled my eyes again, but Andrew had already turned away. He started to get up, but I grabbed the waistband of his sweats. His charcoal eyes slid towards me. I didn’t want to apologize, but I did anyway.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

His expression didn’t change. I wasn’t sure he had accepted it.

“Look," I sighed, "I am sorry. You’re right. I'm a bitch because I’m hung-over and I feel like shit.”

Andrew’s shoulders loosened a bit. He’d forgiven me. He looked away.

I sat up and crawled over to where he was sitting. My arms wrapped around his neck as I pressed my face into his neck. The strong muscles in his back flexed a bit as he reached behind him and wrapped his arms around me. After a couple minutes he spun around and we collapsed back into bed. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but Andrew had me tucked into his chest, his arms wrapped around me snugly.

I was about to say something, but his mouth came down on mine, silencing both my lips and my thoughts. He kissed me firmly, intentionally. His tongue flirted with mine while our lips danced together. I could feel the sparks. They were there, there was no denying it. My heart pounded away in my chest, as the blood in my veins sped up, and my nerves ignited everywhere that we were touching. I wanted to get a little closer, press my body up against the solid, unyielding muscles in his, but he was cradling me and it didn’t seem like he wanted to give up our current position. One of his hands touched my face, tracing the edge of my jaw and then settling easily under my ear, along my neck, to pull me closer. Both of my hands were pressed solidly against him, my fingers tight as if trying to bunch the muscles in his chest like I normally would his shirt. After a few more minutes I managed to pull away and get my breath.

“Kace – “

I twisted my hips, effectively turning myself over in his arms such that I was facing him. Our legs twined together as my arms found their way around his neck and torso. My shirt had ridden up enough that the bare skin on my stomach was touching his. Andrew’s hand slid to the edge of my shirt and he pushed it up a little more, exposing another inch or two of skin. I felt his fingertips slide under the edge of my shirt. Our eyes met. This time I initiated the kiss. I leaned forward and sealed our mouths together. He only let me kiss him twice before he pulled his mouth away and pressed a kiss to my neck. A shiver ran down my back as we rolled over. I gazed down at him as the fire in my stomach grew. Andrew’s hands continued their way under the edge of my shirt and trailed up my ribcage. My elbows buckled. Andrew caught me and rolled us over until he was the one gazing down at me.

“You okay?”

“I’m –“

My stomach rolled. Andrew must have noticed the sick look on my face because before I could push him off, he had scrambled off me and tugged me to my feet. I managed to make it to the toilet before I threw up. I vomited once more before I was able to sit back onto the cold tile.

“Feeling better?” Andrew asked from the doorway.

I groaned. “Kinda.”

He chuckled and I sent him a dark look. “I didn’t throw up last night. You did.”

Andrew didn’t have an answer so he settled for a shrug. I was about to snap at him again but my stomach lurched. I leaned over the toilet as I felt his hand sweep across the back of my neck, pulling my hair away from my face as I lost the coffee I’d drank earlier. I coughed a couple times before sitting back again. I could feel Andrew’s lingering gaze. For a moment, neither of us said anything. Finally, Andrew reached down and held out his hand. I laid mine in his and let him help me to my feet.

“Get a shower,” he murmured, pushing a few loose strands away from my forehead and leaving a blazing trail across my face from where his fingertips touched. “You’ll feel better.”

I sighed and then nodded slowly.

“I’ll make some more coffee.”

It was his peace offering; his way of saying he was sorry for laughing earlier. I nodded again. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and then left the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

God we were a mess. I stared at the closed door for several long moments after his footsteps had disappeared, knowing that the sick feeling in my stomach now had absolutely nothing to do with the amount of alcohol I’d had last night or the lack of water in my brain this morning.