This was written for a prompt at the KKBB kink meme:

Harry gets a Drunk!Perry ready for bed but it ends in a sloppy making out. The next morning Perry wakes to Harry in his bed and is confused because he has no clue what happened the night before. Harry reminds him. ;)

Usual disclaimers apply (Don't own, don't make money... You know the drill).

Unusual warnings apply.
Well, not really. I just wanted to say that. Warnings include: the F word, sloppy nacking, the F word, slash contents, and, um... apple.


Harry was just about to bite into his midnight snack -- a juicy red apple -- when the doorbell rang.

"Who the fuck...?" he wondered aloud, putting the apple, for lack of a better place, in his sweatshirt pocket. After all, Perry would make him swallow it whole if he left it in the living room and forgot about it.

Harry looked out the peephole and saw a stranger who looked even gayer than Perry. Harry decided the skinny little guy in the cropped T-shirt and low-rise jeans posed little danger, so he opened the door.

"Um... are you Perry's partner?" the stranger asked.

"Business partner slash roommate, yes," Harry replied.

"Great! Then you can take care of him. He's no good to me like this! Have a nice night!"

Only as the guy was mincing (only way to describe how he was walking) away did Harry notice a very inebriated Perry slumped down on the porch. He sighed and went to his partner.

"Perry, come on. Let's get you inside," he said, lightly slapping Perry's cheek.

"Mmm... sure thing gorgeous, I'll follow you anywhere." Perry's eyes were glazed when he opened them, but his speech was not too slurred and he was apparently sober enough to manage a smile that was somewhat more charming than a leer.

Unfortunately, he could not seem to manage walking on his own. Harry staggered a bit under his weight as he helped him up, into the house, and to his bed.

"I'd say you owe me for this," Harry muttered, feeling alcohol saturated breath moistening his collarbone. "But, then again, I suppose it's actually returning the favor..."

"Yeah... I like favors," Perry murmured. And he started to lick Harry's neck while a hand started caressing Harry's chest.

"Whoa! Holy fuck!" Harry shouted, half dropping, half pushing Perry away from him. Luckily for Perry, they had reached his bed by then and he had a soft silky landing.

"Huh?" Perry made a confused noise and looked up at Harry, his eyes almost focusing. "Hey, you're even hotter than the guy I came home with."

"...thanks..." If Perry had been sober enough to properly recognize his partner, he might have enjoyed Harry's near speechlessness.

As Harry was deciding whether or not he should just leave Perry like that, the detective's eyes glazed over again and he shivered.

"Okay, let's get you in bed," Harry sighed. He pulled off Perry's shoes, but he really could not bring himself to remove anything else. He then maneuvered Perry into a proper sleeping position. This required a lot of contact between parts of their bodies that Harry would normally prefer not to be so close. "On second thought, you really do fucking owe me for this," he muttered.

"Oh darling, I can pay you back right now." The words came simultaneously with a pair of hands firmly grasping his head.

"What the fu--"

The rest of Harry's exclamation was swallowed (there was no other way of putting it, considering how completely Perry's lips covered Harry's mouth) by Perry's mouth.

At first, Harry was too shocked to struggle as Perry assaulted his mouth. Hot lips engulfed his own, pressed to the corners of his mouth, sucked at his chin, then moved back to his mouth.

Then, teeth nipped at his lower lip -- first gently, then with increasing savagery until Harry opened his mouth. As a moist tongue invaded his mouth, he finally began to struggle.

'Holy shit! He's going to eat me alive!' Harry panicked. He began to push against Perry, trying to get off his chest and away from the now dangerous bed.

Perry, however drunk he might be, was still incredibly strong. He kept one hand on Harry's head, firmly pressing their mouths together. His other arm moved around Harry's back to crush him against the detective's broad chest. All the while, Perry's tongue was stroking every inch of Harry's and the inside of his mouth, the backs of his teeth.

Harry couldn't breathe, could barely move, and could only think, what will Harmony think if I die this way?

Finally, Perry pulled back a little, sinking his head into the pillow. A little string of saliva glistened briefly in the small space that now separated their lips before falling back to Perry's mouth. Harry, gasping for breath, managed to get an arm free enough to push himself back a little more. He then took a deep breath in preparation to shout at his partner.

But the look on Perry's face stopped him. Perry's eyes were no longer glazed and unfocused. They gazed up at Harry with warmth and something more that Harry was unable (did not want) to define. A smile that somehow was both beatific and sexy curved the corners of Perry's mouth as he slowly licked his own lips. Harry forgot to struggle, forgot to breathe.

His fucking heart forgot to beat for a moment as Perry pulled him close once more for another kiss. Harry's lips parted and his eyes closed as Perry gently lapped at his lower lip before kissing him again.

And this time it was slow -- languorously passionate. Harry felt his own tongue being invited into Perry's mouth. A gentle suction and a pleasant tang of tropical cocktail greeted his hesitant tongue upon acceptance. Warmth blossomed in his cheeks and radiated through his body. A tingling sensation started in his scalp and butterflied down his spine. Harry mindlessly moved his tongue in rhythm with Perry's as both warmth and tingling pooled in his abdomen. A muffled moan vibrated in the air around them.

Harry's eyes snapped open. Shit, that was me! He thought in a panicked return to clarity. Remembering who he was, who Perry was, and a momentarily blurred image of Harmony, Harry used all his strength and limited coordination to roll himself off Perry and onto the floor.

He landed awkwardly on his side on the floor and what little air was in his lungs was forced out. He tried to collect himself to flee but found that his arm was trapped.

He used his free arm to lever himself up until he was kneeling by the bed. Perry had Harry's left hand firmly grasped in both of his. Harry pulled, but as before, the grip was iron.

"Harry," Perry breathed, his eyes again glazing over, "don't go." His eyes closed and his breathing evened out. It took Harry a moment to realize that his partner had fallen asleep.

Dazedly Harry brought his free hand up to his mouth. His fingers found moisture on his lips and chin - saliva, his own and Perry's. His fingers trembled slightly as he drew them across his mouth. Then he wiped at the saliva with his palm.

"What was that?" he asked the slumbering detective. He heard his voice quavering and he did not like that. He drew breath and almost shouted, "What the fuck was that!?"

Perry merely smiled in his sleep and pulled Harry's trapped hand up to his cheek. Harry felt two urges war within him at that: a sensible urge to punch his partner and an insane urge to kiss him again.

He settled instead for trying to free his hand. That proving fruitless, he decided on the great solver of most problems: sleep.

He got up and moved as best and as gingerly as he could across Perry's body to the open side of the bed. He settled himself as comfortably as possible and somehow, managed to fall asleep.

Perry wakened slowly. He did not open his eyes at first. He did not need to -- his other senses told him he was home, in his own bed. He also did not want to -- he could feel the incipient hangover that was ready to hammer his head the moment he opened his eyes to the bright morning sun.

And he was not alone. His senses told him that, too. And he really was not sure he was ready to see what he might have brought home in his intoxicated state.

Well, no matter how godly or homely his companion might be, he had to get up and get him out before Harry saw him. And in order to do that, he had first to open his eyes.

"Fucking hell!" he exclaimed, as he immediately recognized who shared his bed.

At this, Harry let out a sleepy groan and began rubbing his eyes with one hand as he opened them. "'nd a fucking 'good morning' to you too," he responded to the rude awakening.

"Fuck 'good morning!'" Perry replied irritably as he sat up. "I want to know how the fuck you ended up sleeping with me!"

"You mean you don't remember?" Harry sat up, too.

"Yeah, I remember perfectly. I just want the moron-o-vision replay! Idiot." Perry massaged the bridge of his nose with his left hand.

"Damn, you are sooo not a morning person when you're hung over." Harry only received a glare in response. "Well, let me refresh your memory. But first, could you let go of my hand? I want to keep the rest of my fingers."

Perry made an inarticulate confused noise and looked down at his right hand. Only then did he notice that it was tightly clutching Harry's partially maimed left hand. He released it like it was a snake.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Thanks."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Last night, fuckwit!"

"Geez... Fine. So, I'm innocently enjoying some time to myself, when some -- um, I think 'troll' might be the gay word you'd use -- brought you home." Perry gave him an interesting mix of a glare and a raised eyebrow at this. "Seriously, dude, you need a new prescription for booze goggles. Best I could describe this guy is a pygmy Jean Claude Van Damme..."

"Get to the fucking point."

"Getting there. So, yeah, you're falling down drunk and out of the goodness of my heart-" SNORT "-I help you to bed. ... And then, you attacked me."

"I did no such fucking thing!" Perry shouted, grabbing Harry by his sweatshirt. "You'd be naked and blissfully fucking quiet, if I had."

"Ugh... OK, well, you attacked my face to be exacter--"

"More exact."

"--positively mauled my poor mouth. I mean, seriously, zero technique."

"I don't believe you."

Harry pulled the apple out of his pocket. "Here, allow me to demonstrate."

"Why the fuck do you have an apple in your pocket?"

"It's a magician thing. Not the point. This is what your one-sided nack fest was like." Harry brought the apple to his lips and proceded to sloppily lick, slurp, suck and nibble one side of it, making sure to include lots of spit, smacking noises, and cross-eyed expressions. He finished the performance by suctioning nearly half the apple before pulling it away with a popping noise. "It totally sucked."

Perry blinked at Harry bemusedly, then looked at the now tooth-marked and saliva-soaked apple.

"Really. I guess gay men aren't picky about technique."

"I was drunk," Perry growled, still looking at the apple.

"Sure." Harry began eating his apple, smiling at the thought that he had partly payed Perry back for the "attack."

Then, he felt Perry's gaze sharpen on him. He just had time to freeze with the apple in his mouth before he was pinned to the headboard.

Perry looked narrowly into Harry's eyes. He could almost see the thought SHIT looping in the otherwise empty brain. Still, this deer in the headlights slash luau pig look was rather adorable.

"I think it's time for another detective lesson," he said, leaning closer. "And trust me, this one will not suck."

Perry, headache forgotten, predatory smile on max, pulled the apple from Harry's lips with his own.

~Fade to pink~