A/n: Possibly one of the nicer things I've written. I've always loved the concept of drunken sex and the awkward morning after. So this is my weird take on that. Also, I think this is the closest I'll ever come to a lemon. Beware? Oh yea, and yaoi, but you don't get a warning for that.

Disclaimer: Only own… well, nothing. I own nothing. Damn.


As I slide the Absolut your way, winking and raising my second drink of the night in mock salute, I can't help but feel almost guilty. You're five deep and what, six inches and thirty pounds lighter? Your tolerance is zero. And I just keep pouring drinks down your pretty, little throat.

Because we'd never do this if you were sober. And I'm pretty sure I'm probably going to hell for this. But if I can get you to sleep with me just one more time then I'll go willingly. I won't fight it, I deserve it.

I'm such an idiot, you know; I thought once would be enough. I figured it had to be. Why would you make the same mistake twice? I know me, I'm no prize, certainly not who you want. But you're my every dream given life. So why did I think once would be enough for me?

Waking up with your head pillowed on my chest was the single most beautiful moment of my life. (Although coming inside of you, with your legs wrapped tight around my waist, is a damn close second I must admit.) I almost wished you'd never wake up, never become lucid enough to regret it.

I don't regret it, and I'll never regret it. Not for as long as I live; not even as you turned pale and shaky. Nothing could make me regret it. It was the most complete, the most content, I've ever felt. So why did I think I'd be satisfied with a one night stand with perfect you? A lifetime with perfect you might not even satisfy me. I'm selfish, I'm sorry.

So I pour you doubles as I nurse my drink (still the second of the night and it's slowly creeping past two AM). I need you to lose your mind while I retain mine. Because I need that night to repeat itself. I have to have you again, preferably sober. I'm sorry, but didn't I tell you I'm selfish?

You're making my goal seem to be within my reach. You're slurring your words and fumbling all over the countertop. And you're slouching in your seat a lot more than what's normal, even for you.

I choose this moment to mumble your name and lay my hand upon your forearm in what I hope is a calm and gentle manner. Do I intimidate you? Are you nervous? I wouldn't blame you if you were, but no… No, you can't even see it coming. You can't, can you?

When you turn your bleary corn-flower blue eyes towards my way and smile at me with only one side of your mouth (the right I notice, because I notice every little detail about you), I know you've reached that point.

"Let's go home, hmm?" Smile, smile, smile. I have to seem drunk and as non-threatening as possible in the off-chance that you aren't as gone as you appear. I need to seem as innocent as possible because I need to sleep with you one more time. And I need you to think it was just another drunken mistake. To both of us.

You smile at me, nodding and taking my hand and fuck, you trust me, don't you? God, I really am going to hell for this. And to be honest, I know I deserve nothing short of eternal damnation.

Still, even as the guilt consumes my whole being from the inside out, still the decision to fuck you stands firm in my mind. So I keep your perfectly tanned hand clenched to my pallid palm. I lead you like the innocent little lamb you are to the slaughter. You smile the whole ride home, hand still clenched in mine in the back of the cab.

My hands shake as I slide my key into the lock, excess keys jangling obnoxiously. But then your giggling joins in and suddenly the sound isn't obnoxious at all. It's beautiful. And I feel like a thief for stealing it from you. I try not to think of what a traitorous excuse I am for a friend.

I kick off my shoes and shed my jacket (clumsily), then toe your sneakers off (easily), and start to pull you towards the bedroom and lord you look so innocent. Another guiltily pang cuts through my stomach. You mewl my name like you love me and I try not to become too attached to that beautiful intonation because it's not real. Nothing you do or say tonight will be really real.

A gentle shove and you hit the bed face up, hair in splendid disarray, legs splayed invitingly. My unworthy name passes through your lips again before I cover them with mine, crawling over you to settle above you. Kissing you is better than I remembered (because I tried so hard to forget).

I pull your clothes off easily, as you fist your hands in my shirt and throw your head back displaying that graceful neck of yours. You look like you're really enjoying yourself so my guilt starts to fade. I force it to.

I take this as my cue to pause for a moment and try to memorize everything, every little thing be it miniscule or major, about you in the span of 15 seconds. It's not nearly enough time but it's all I can spare. (Can't have you sobering up and coming to your senses, now can we?)

You don't come to your senses, hell you don't even lift your head up, so I continue as if I never stopped to begin with. I try to taste every bit of you my tongue can reach; all the while trying to memorize how sinfully good you taste and feel beneath my tongue.

Your moans urge me farther (as if I needed any encouraging). You're still mewling my name, hands currently fisted in my hair seeing as my clothes are scattered across the floor. I don't answer you, my mouth is otherwise occupied. You seem to be quite fine with that arrangement.

And then I'm inside you. You clench every muscle instinctively, no matter how thoroughly I've prepared you, and I stop all movement on my part. I trace your face with my eyes, focusing mostly on your eyes, squeezed tightly shut, lush lashes spread out perfectly. Everything about you is absolutely perfect to me. Why can't you see that when you're sober?

I move only when you jerk your hips roughly and gaze up at me through half-lidded eyes. When did you turn into such a little sex-kitten? Doesn't matter, not when I'm stealing this moment from you. God, you feel amazing below me, around me. I try to bite back my moaned version of your name but fail miserably. You hear me and lock eyes with me again; then you say the most beautiful three words I think I'll ever hear.

"Riku! I'm coming!"

And everything that is you amplifies and overwhelms me and darling, I'm coming too. As I drift back down to earth after that breathtaking high of an orgasm I see you out of the very corner of my eye, staring at me like you've never seen me before. I turn to you and before the question even completely forms in my brain you are talking, asking me the most horrible question.

"Riku, do you love me?" Those wide, wonderful, blue eyes of yours should be illegal. Add in that full-lipped pout, that quivering piece of pale red flesh I cannot resist and I am done for. It's all over for me.

In the back of my mind I wonder if I got you drunk enough to remember all of this by morning? Will you remember how beautifully in sync we moved and how wonderful it felt? Will you remember how much love you surely must have felt pouring off of me in waves, in each one of my movements? Will you remember my words now?

"Yes Sora, I love you." This seems to satisfy you. You smile coyly and peck my lips feather light before turning your face into my pillow and nodding off to sleep, leaving me to clean the mess drying on both of our bodies. You didn't even say it back, I think selfishly. You couldn't even give me a hollow, drunken, completely false declaration of love.

After wiping your tanned skin clean I contemplate slipping your boxers back on but then I remember that the twinge in your ass will reveal we had sex; so why half-heartedly try to cover it up? So I slip into bed beside you, equally (completely) naked, and spend the next two hours watching you sleep like the creepy weirdo that I am. I can't help it. I may have ruined things beyond fixing this time. Once and we can explain it away, but twice? There's a very likely chance that you won't want to ever look at me again.

Somehow I manage to fall asleep and end up spooning you because by morning I am draped across you. Another beautiful moment never to repeat itself. I curl around you further, drawing you nearer, silently pleading with you to stay asleep. Just one more minute god, I plead, I'm going to hell for this anyway, so please just give me my soul's worth.

You sleep for another half hour while I cuddle you from behind. I love to cuddle you; did I ever tell you that? No, of course I didn't. But I do, you're the perfect size to fit into my arms (also my heart. I'm appalled at how corny loving you has made me).

All too soon it seems my time has run out, seems like my soul isn't worth all that much. I know the exact moment you wake up because you tense and suck in and hold a breath for an unbearably long moment. I detach without you asking and wonder how long I've got until the yelling starts and my entire world comes crashing down. A minute, two?

"Riku…" Damn it! It hasn't even been a full thirty seconds yet!

"Yes Sora?" I murmur, afraid to speak loudly and shatter the still peaceful moment.

"…You said you loved me last night. Did you mean it or were you just drunk?"

'Say drunk!' My mind screams at me to tell you it was a lie while your face is looking away from me. To lie to you when you can't see how it will kill me.

"It's true. I love you Sora." This comes out instead because I can't lie to you whether or not eye contact is maintained. And I especially can't lie to you after stealing sex from you, twice. You turn to face me and of all things, you look relieved… And I don't get it at all.

"Oh thank God. Oh thank God, Riku. I don't know what I would have done if you didn't love me."

I still don't get it; I want desperately to tell you that but the look of unadulterated joy on your face stops me. I can't take that away from you. So I smile. And you smile. Then you fling yourself into my chest without any explanation. I don't mind, I've got an armful of Sora, I couldn't be happier.

"Riku…" You murmur into my neck and god it feels lovely. Everything you do to me feels lovely. Even as you're about to rip my heart out (although I'm starting to expect that less and less and my hope is growing rapidly, stupidly), it still feels wonderful because it's you doing it, and to me no less.

"Riku, I'm so relieved, you don't know how much I've been thinking about this."

'Not as much as I have.' I long to say, but the words seem too heavy to speak. They sink and slide down my body and are buried deeply within myself until I cannot even recall what I wanted to say to begin with. You lift your head from my neck (bemused, I realize how inexplicably sad I am because of the loss) and smile at me. And I still don't get it!

"Do you know why I'm happy Riku?" You question, eyes bright and shining with some inner light that only you possess.

"No Sora, why?" My eyes are shining too, but with something a lot heavier than light, something a lot more liquid. And painfully hopeful.

"Because I love you so much Riku. I thought the first time was an accident and you were too drunk to know it was me, but I knew it was you Riku. And it made me sad to think it'd never happen again. Because I love you Riku, I really love you."

This won't be the last time I realize. This will be far from the last time I have you in my arms, and heart. These beautiful moments will repeat and multiply. I can't help myself as I crush you into my chest, murmuring my love over and over.

I can't help myself, I cry.


End note: You don't know how badly I wanted to be a bitch and end it badly, messily. But my girlish heart wouldn't let me this time. It said: "No Lauren! End it with that unrealistic, together forever, fairytale love."

And I had to follow my heart, corny as that sounds.

So enjoy the fluff! Who knows how long before you see it from me again? I'm guessing months. Peace ("and Love!" Shhhh, Inner-Vash, shut the hell up).