A Good Night Full Of Mistakes

Ch. 1

It's 7:43am.

Scott's been lying motionless in bed for 17 minutes. There's a problem.

It's not so much that it's ridiculously early to be awake on a rare Saturday off. It's not that he has to piss like a racehorse. It's not even that he can feel everything he drank last night every time he blinks.

The problem is that he's not in his bed and he's not wearing any clothes.

He's in Mitch's bed, who is also not wearing any clothes, has a leg and an arm draped over him, and is snoring quietly, sound asleep. He has no idea how he wound up naked in Mitch's bed or what the hell happened the night before.

Well, scratch that. He has a vague idea of what might have happened. They're both naked, after all, and there's a purple hickey on his chest that certainly wasn't there yesterday. He's just not entirely sure how a spontaneous wine night turned into this and, more importantly, what he's supposed to do about it.

Holy shit, what happened?

Struggling with his uncooperative, hungover memories, Scott again tries to bring to mind some clue about last night. His plans had fallen through. Mitch had been in a mood and hadn't made any plans. They decided to get wine and get hammered. They drank the wine. There were shots of something - tequila, maybe? - involved. That was still clear.

But between bottle three and 7:26am, when he'd jolted awake, things were kind of hazy.

Britney Spears. There's a memory. Mitch had played old-school Britney for like an hour. They both tried to do the choreography for ...Baby One More Time. It was funny.

And there's another memory - Mitch beneath him, writhing, asking for things like more and harder. Oh, god. Okay. Well, that happened then. Shit.

That opens the floodgates. Glass after glass of wine. Shots - lots of those. Dancing. Laughing. An otherwise normal drunken night. The room was spinning and Scott laid on the cool tile of the kitchen floor to make it stop. Mitch thought that was hilarious and laid down next to him, laughing so hard he was crying. As he usually did at that level of inebriation, Scott slurred a "will you just kiss me already?"

And this time he did.

And here they are.

And at 8:04 Mitch shifts. For a moment Scott thinks he's moving in his sleep, but he tenses awkwardly and his body language makes it pretty clear that he's aware something is not right. His eyes pop open, meet Scott's, and go round as saucers.

"Oh, fuck," Mitch croaks.