A ficlet inspired by speculation as to what tattoos Guerrero and Chance might have over on the WPTJEH Livejournal community.

Guerrero peeled his head from the pillow far enough to confirm that yes, it was daylight, and yes, the sun freaking hurt before groaning and flipping onto his right side- facing instead the prone (and now, thanks to Guerrero's outburst, steadily rousing) form of Junior.

When Junior's eyes cracked open he winced and flung an arm over his face. Then, just as quickly, he raised it to squint at the man lying next to him.


"Last time I checked, though I'd rather not be at the moment."

Junior pushed himself onto his elbows, eyes still narrowed as he took in his surroundings. "Wait, wha-? Is this my room?"

Guerrero looked around. Sneakers on the ground. Sweatshirt and an old Rolling Stones tee piled on top of a battered black suitcase. More bottles of Dos Equis than he could count littering the table, the windowsill, the floor. And- as a chaser, he supposed- a brown-bagged bottle of some liquor he couldn't identify but, judging by the taste in his mouth and the delicate perfume of Junior's morning breath wafting through the air, was probably whiskey. A good night, then. Pity he couldn't remember it.

"Nope." Guerrero said. "It's mine. I'm gonna guess you crashed here after- well."

He gestured to the colorful array of refuse from the night before.

"Oh." Said Junior. Then, "Ugh, my head..."

"You and me both, dude." Guerrero said.

"And my hip."


"It stings."

"Did you bruise it?"

"Mm. Don't remember."

Junior hooked a thumb in the waist of his jeans and tugged the side away from Guerrero down. Junior's reaction seemed plucked from the pages of a self-help book: Confusion. Denial. Anger. Okay, back to confusion. And then Junior turned and gawked at him.

"There's a hummingbird on my hip." Junior said.


"A tattoo. On my hip. Of a hummingbird."

Guerrero raised his eyebrows. Then, steadily, his lips curled up and apart into a grin.

Chance drew back, held up his hands. "No, wait-"

Guerrero sprang, catching Junior off guard not with the movement but with the speed of its execution- after all, Guerrero had had plenty of years to master the art of high performance in the aftermath of an all-night bender. Junior hit the mattress with a whumph-

"No, seriously Guerrero, stop!"

"Dude, relax, just let me see!"

-and the two tousled for a moment before Junior caught Guerrero's arm in a way that sucked the breath out of him and sent him reeling back to his own side of the mattress.

"What's wrong?" Junior asked at once. Guerrero shook his head and pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt, wincing as the fabric caught on-

Guerrero stared at his shoulder. Then he stared at Junior staring at his shoulder, and Junior in turn managed to meet Guerrero's gaze for about five seconds before he collapsed to his side, his entire body spasming with laughter.

"Shut up." Guerrero growled.

"A unicorn!" Junior gasped out.

"Shut. Up."

"It's got- the mane is a rainbow! Oh god, it hurts but I can't stop laughing-!"

"Really?" Guerrero deadpanned. "Let me help you with that."

He leaned over and slapped Chance on the hip. Hard.

"Ha ha- ow!