This is based off of Daria'sMidnight Runners by Iamoutraged, published in 2008. The writer never developed the story beyond Trent taking care of a very hung over Daria following a new years celebration back at the Zon. She's in her Freshman year at Raft. Soooo….it's been about seven years. So let's just say I'm offering this as a tribute. I always wanted a followup to this story and I guess you're not gonna do one. Author, you can yell at me and I'll pull this off immediately. Tried to PM you first but there was no link for that.

This is a one-shot. No more.

Standard disclaimer: Daria and characters are the property of MTV and/or whomever has acquired the intellectual property rights. Nothing of value has been exchanged, especially money; this is fanfiction, created strictly for fun and love for one of the greatest shows ever.

Morning After

Ow.

The cheery ray of sunlight shafted through a break in the curtain, reaffirming just how crappy she felt. She tried to roll over, but found herself under some guy's arm. She could tell it was a guy, and from his familiar scent, she knew exactly who it was.

Not that there were other possibilities.

She took in a breath, and held it. Slowly turning her head, she could make out the familiar three silver rings in his ear. His face was half buried under the end of the pillow she had been sleeping on.

He had carried her to the car after she drank too much at last night's new year's gig. Once at the Lane house, she was as sick as a dog and wound up playing the porcelain tuba. He must have cleaned her up, because she had drifted in and out of sleep before sensing that he had set her in his own bed and was sleeping on the floor. Come to bed, she had told him. Don't leave me alone…

Oh God. She had always known that he was always one to be honest when he drank, the lowering of inhibition serving to weaken that peculiar clueless façade he had chosen so as to avoid having to deal with the labor of adult responsibility. He was, she knew, a lot more aware of what was going on around him then he let on. And why not? Jane was a smart woman, even though it expressed itself somewhat differently than conventional wisdom; she was her own person. Despite her battles, Jane was a smart, independent thinker, someone that Daria immediately bonded with not long after meeting so many years ago.

Trent was her brother. And just like Quinn wasn't as dumb as she made herself out to be; the guy was a lot like Jane, but in his own way. No wonder she had found him so…appealing… when she had first met him.

Last night it had all slipped out. That solo acoustic number that he did- she wasn't stupid. She knew what he was saying, as semi-wasted as she was at the time. He had written that damn song for her, so sad and so beautiful. He missed her, badly, when she had left for college, and that absence had made it clear that he had feelings for her.

Dammit.

Her head was pounding, and she had to pee. How could she get out of bed without waking him up?

Oh, hell, what did it matter now?

She got out from under his arm without a problem. Getting over him would be more difficult to accomplish while maintaining any decorum, considering that he was on his side facing her. She had to climb over him, and honestly, there was no way to do so without making physical contact with him. Just do it, or you're gonna wet his bed, with him in it. That would be considerably more embarrassing than sliding your boobs over him. Just get out of bed and get to the damn bathroom.

She realized that she rather liked the feel of him below her body.

After taking care of the most urgent need, she made her way to Jane's bedroom to get to her stuff. Oddly, the door was closed.

And locked.

Crap. She really had to brush her teeth.

Oh, well, it's not like we don't know each other. Besides, didn't we just sort of sleep together? She rinsed out the hand soap from Trent's toothbrush and used his toothpaste. We didn't do anything. I was totally wasted, and he didn't take advantage of me. Hell, maybe if I wasn't quite so incapacitated I might have taken advantage of him. I mean, we kissed when we crossed the threshold into the new year-

She shook her head, vexed at the jumble of meanings rattling about in her hung-over brain. She soaped up his toothbrush again, making sure to rinse it thoroughly and tapped it on the edge of the sink to get most of the water out.

She was about to drop it back into the glass when he reached out for it.

She fell silent, watching as he smiled at her and brushed his teeth. She just stayed, watching, although she wasn't sure why. It was strange, standing in the bathroom with him brushing his teeth. Somehow, it felt like it was okay for them to share the bathroom, like they were an old couple beginning the day.

She watched, mesmerized, as he rinsed out this mouth, looking for the towel that she was holding. Catching herself, she handed it to him.

"Janey was pretty cranky last night. I woke her up to help me with cleaning you up, and she just got mad at me and told me to do it myself. Guess she locked the door when she threw me out of her room."

Oh God. Of course, why else would I be wearing his t-shirt and boxers? She blushed furiously. "I'm sorry you had to do that. I'm so embarrassed."

He flashed a little grin. "You don't have to be sorry, or embarrassed." It was his turn to blush. "It was nice."

They studied each other, sharing small smiles. "Nice," she repeated. "What do you mean by that?" She was gently teasing him.

He remained silent for a moment, as though thinking through the consequences of uttering the words on his mind. To hell with it.

"I always knew you were hiding pretty, Daria," he said slowly. "But…damn."

"Thanks for washing my clothes," she half-smiled at him. "and for cleaning up that mess I made in the bathroom." The aspirin was finally helping. She would never drink again.

On the other hand, it had been strangely liberating. She had managed to thoroughly humiliate herself in front of this guy that she still had this strange attraction to, and yet he seemed to think no less of her because of it. In fact, it had made both of them much more at ease with each other.

She looked at him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He had placed her clothes, neatly folded, on his dresser. All of her clothes. She thought slowly and carefully about what she wanted to do next, as opposed to what she knew she should be doing. Part of her wanted to keep wearing his shirt, partly for the comfort that the loosely fitting garment provided, and partly because she knew that it was driving him slowly insane, watching the drape and swell and movement of the thin cotton, watching as she simply stood there breathing. She felt strangely empowered and vaguely disgusted with herself, realizing that without meaning to, she was kind of in the process of seducing him.

After a long moment, she stepped over to his door and closed it, clicking the long unused lock home. She stepped over to his dresser, no longer trying to moderate the sway of her breasts as she moved. Placing a hand on the stack of folded clothes, she noted that he was sitting with his pillow in his lap.

"It's not like you haven't seen this before," she said quietly, an odd quaver in her voice. She approached him slowly. "I don't suppose you took your time when you got me cleaned up and ready for bed."

He shook his head a little too earnestly, trying desperately to not stare at her. He was failing miserably at that. She was so beautiful, and incredibly sexy. He realized with a start that this was not something that she did often, if at all. She was excited, that much was clear, and she was slightly awkward and hesitant- which only served to make her that much more alluring. What was going on? This was Daria, for God's sake.

Okay, smart girl. Don't you realize what's going to happen if you go ahead with this? You both agreed that you wouldn't take it any further that that kiss- okay, kisses- because, come on, how in the world could this possibly be more than a- well, what else could you call it but a fling? It can't go anywhere, can it?

But… oh, he was so sweet last night. If he pushed just a little, I would have caved. But he didn't, even though I know he wanted to. He cares about me, and he respects me. And I care for him. What in the world are these lines of force around us? I want to go to him, but where will we be afterwards?

She was close. She reached down and pulled the pillow away, revealing proof of his arousal. She gazed, transfixed. She was responsible for that. Deciding, she didn't back away, but instead leaned in, brushing her fingertips along the curve of his jaw, lifting his chin. "Since you don't have any pockets to have a gun in, I guess you're just happy to see me," she said in her best paraphrase of that old film star. Who was that? Oh yeah, Mae West, but didn't she-

Daria never finished the thought, as he reached up and pulled her into a passionate embrace and kiss, making her lose her balance and tumble down onto him. She felt his fingers in her hair, the other hand stroking the small of her back. She reached under the hem of his shirt and ran her hands up his back, pulling the fabric up as she went. They broke the clinch just long enough for her to pull his shirt off, and she fell back onto him, her tongue brushing against his as their lips came together. She felt him slip his hands under the shirt she was wearing, the calluses on his fingertips sending shivers down her back. She moaned softly, his hardness pressing against her belly. This is such a bad idea. Jane and I are heading back to Boston in only a few days, and what then? What if I can't get him out of my head? What if-

She felt him pull the shirt higher, shivering at the feeling of her breasts against his chest. She felt her rational mind shutting down, collapsing into the rubble of those emotional walls she had invested a lifetime in building. It was at the same time terrifying, and liberating. She explored him, savoring his gentle yet urgent touches, clothing dropping to the floor. He nuzzled her, leaving a trail of kisses down from her jaw, along her neck, across her collarbone. She shifted, pulling herself higher, wrapping her leg around his flank. Jane, I hope you can sleep through this.

"Are you okay?" Helen looked at her eldest with a hint of worry. "Jane called and left a message this morning, saying that you weren't feeling well."

"I had my first hangover." Daria waited for the lecture, but it didn't come. Instead, her mother simply nodded, a small smile on her face. "I don't plan on ever repeating that, just so you know."

"I know, sweetie. I'm just happy that you learned that lesson and got through it safely. I'll say nothing more about it, except that remember you're not 21 yet." Helen shook her head ruefully, remembering her own youthful experimentation. "So do you want anything to eat? Maybe something easy on your stomach?"

Eat? Come to think of it, all I've had since waking up has been water, aspirin and…Trent. "Um, yeah. I guess I'll just make myself some toast or something."

"Let me. I put a few cans of ginger ale in the fridge. It'll settle your stomach. Later on, we can talk about dinner. Would you like to invite Jane and Trent?"

Was she imagining it, or was there a tiny smile that flickered across her mother's face? Noooo! Did she somehow intuit what was going on? This wasn't something that she wanted to discuss with her mother…was it? She knew that her mother's observational skills could be remarkable acute. Reading people, after all, was why she had been so successful as a lawyer. Maybe she already knew.

Crossing over to the refrigerator, she got herself a can of ginger ale. She sat at the table and watched her mother as she took a few slices of bread and a plate and set them on the counter.

"Sweetie, how about a poached egg? It's easy to digest, and poaching cooks it without oil."

"Sure, Mom, thanks." She watched as her mother got the carton of eggs out of the refrigerator, a small smile playing across her face as old memories surfaced. Daria didn't miss the slightly distant look that crossed her face as she completed each small step in making her daughter's meal. Dammit, she knows. I don't know how she does, but she knows. How? Did I react at the mention of his name? Do I have splooge in my hair or something? Am I walking funny?

"Two eggs. Eat what you can," she smiled. Eggs. Two. Daria watched, unable to take her eyes off the thick, viscous fluid as the eggs were cracked open and the contents poured into a small bowl. Her mother took a spoon, swirling the water in the pot to keep the whites around the yolks as she transferred the eggs into the simmering water. Oh God, I must be blushing. Could I be any more obvious? Daria failed to keep a smile off her face, and shook her head slightly, hand on her forehead, eyes closed for a long moment.

Watching her daughter, Helen relaxed. "You're a smart woman, Daria. You'll be fine."

After Daria's car had disappeared down the street, Jake took Helen's hand. "We have such beautiful daughters," he said quietly. Behind them, Quinn smiled.

Good luck, Sis.

A few moments later, Daria pulled in behind Trent's blue car, blocking it in.

Wonder if he's even awake yet. She reached for the doorknob and started as the door opened. She felt herself engulfed in familiar arms, almost lifting her off her feet. She opened her mouth to protest at this unfamiliar public display of affection, but found herself unable to make a sound as he kissed her desperately.

Reluctantly, he released her and slouched against the wall, his foot kicking lightly at one of Jane's bags that were piled near the door.

There was something different about him. She looked up at him, clear brown eyes meeting ocean blue. A momentary thought flickered, wondering about the genetic odyssey that had resulted in these two siblings. The strangeness of their situation had shaped them into these personas that had meshed so perfectly with her own; one a long standing and comfortable partner in crime, as close, perhaps closer, than a sister. The other one, who had become a sweet friend and now a lover- for now, to be left behind.

For now? Why hope, when their lives were destined to follow different paths? How was it that she had allowed herself to close that small distance… no, it was a chasm. It was so much easier and safer to admire him from a distance. She had gone from a teenage crush, from a schoolgirl's fantasy, to actually allowing herself to look at him, knowing full well that she had set herself to the possibility of crushing disappointment.

But it didn't turn out that way. There was far more to him than she knew, although in retrospect she had sensed that it was always there, slumbering below the surface. The Trent behind the opiate of that slacker persona, that lidded ennui that served as childhood's surrogate. No worries, Janie. We don't need Mom or Dad. I'm here. We've got each other's back.

"Daria?" Trent's voice. The corners of her mouth ticked up, imperceptibly if you didn't know her. Thoughts of him leading her up the stairs to his room for one last time made her smile grow, even as she chastised herself. Jane and I have to get on the road, or we'll get home after midnight.

"Unless you decide otherwise, this isn't over." He opened his hand, fingers spread, running them through her hair. "Can I come and visit you in Boston?"

She nodded weakly. "It's a long drive…sure. When you can."

He said nothing for a moment.

"I know you're thinking that I'm just talking out of my ass here. That I'm never gonna show up."

"That's not what I'm thinking." No wonder I suck at this relationship stuff. I can't lie worth a damn. She sighed. "Well, okay. I mean, your life is here. My life is up in Boston, for the next four years at least."

He smiled ruefully at her. "You can't honestly call this a life."

"It is what it is," she said quietly. "I brought this on myself. I knew damn well that crossing that line was going to complicate things. If you want to take this further, it's really up to you. I have no options here. I can't move back here. We can try the long distance thing and see where it goes, but beyond that I can't promise you anything."

It was all she could do to focus on her work. She put the daydreams of him appearing on her doorstep out of her mind. That won't happen, she told herself. He'll forget soon enough. I don't know what I was thinking.

She heard the front door open. Jane's portfolio made its distinctive sound as it landed on their rickety dining/work/project table.

"Daria?" Jane called out.

Another sound; something heavy, swung weightily into the side of the wall near the door.

"Hey," Daria called out. "Finishing up my comp lit paper. Ten minutes and I'll start dinner." It was her turn to cook, and she wasn't up to one of Jane's weird recipes involving instant ramen and Mexican spices anyway.

She proofread the paper one last time, made a minor correction, and emailed it to her instructor. Finally, maybe some time to herself this weekend.

"You done yet?" Jane called from the living room. "What's for dinner? I brought dessert."

Daria rolled her eyes. Honestly, Jane and her Dad had a lot in common when it came to food. If Jane was left to cook on her own, gastric distress was a possible outcome. It was not a good thing that Jane had stumbled on a college student's survival cookbook at a thrift store. Who knew you could make something like a pizza with ketchup, a bit of malt vinegar, grated cheese and hot pepper flakes, all in those free condiment packets?

She smiled as she kicked off her boots, remembering the time Jane had used all the salt in the kitchen for some kind of flour based molding compound. Faced with having to cook some chicken without salt, Jane had decided that crushing a stale bag of Fritos that she found under her bed and using that for a salty breading was somehow a good idea. The resulting platter of "Frickin' Chicken" was…interesting.

Looking in the mirror, she finger combed her hair and headed for the living room. "Just as long as it's not those little powdered sugar tiny donuts-"

She was cut off mid-sentence as she came face to face with Trent.

"Surprise," smiled Jane, amused at the sudden appearance of a rather goofy grin on her brother's face. She retreated to the kitchen to give them a little privacy. "If you're thinking of dragging him into your bedroom, that would constitute an agreement to eat whatever I come up with."

A little howl of protest was her answer, followed by the howler herself with a bemused Trent in tow.

"Awww, how domestic," snickered Jane, patting her brother on the back as she headed off to catch up on her email.

They waited until Jane seemed to be out of earshot.

"I brought a sleeping bag," Trent offered.

Daria smirked. "Why?"

"I'm not gonna assume-"

"My bed is kind of small, but if we push it against the wall it'll keep one of us from falling off." She handed him a colander and a head of lettuce. "How long can you stay?" She took the bowl of marinating chicken from the refrigerator.

He was silent for a long time as he rinsed the lettuce. She waited, and then put her face in front of his, an eyebrow raised.

"Um-I'm looking for work up here. I still have to go back to Lawndale at some point to tie things up, if I do manage to find something."

It was her turn to be quiet; arms crossed across her chest. Her gaze drifted to the floor.

"Daria?"

No answer.

"I won't if you don't want me around all the time," he said quietly. "I mean, you must be expanding your social circle, right? If you want me to-"

"Trent. Stop. I do want you here in Boston. But I want you here here. And that's something that I have no idea how it might work out.

"And that scares you."

"Damn right. I'm not sure if it's just my hormones holding my brain for ransom or not." Exhaling, she dropped her arms and leaned against the counter. "No, that's just bullshit. I'm just scared that we'll drive each other nuts."

Trent smiled. "Kinda what I was thinking, but more along the lines of me driving you nuts. You'd never do that to me. I know you and if there was anything about you that I couldn't live with, I think I'd have figured that out by now."

"Exactly." She shook her head. "That's what I'm kinda thinking, that I'd drive you nuts." She stepped over to him and wrapped her arms around him. He did the same.

She shuddered. "Trent?"

"Will you give me a chance?" he murmured in her ear.

"Yes. But-"

"My hands are wet, aren't they?" Trent said sheepishly. "Sorry." He moved his hands off the small of her back.

"Stop wiping them on my ass, you goof." She pulled away, a smile on her face. "Let's see what happens."

"Okay." He motioned to the container of chicken. "You're sautéing that, right? What's in the marinade?"

"A little soy sauce, garlic, a bit of honey, fresh ginger-" she stopped, looking at him.

"So a kind of Asian flavor. Do you have rice here?"

"When did you learn to cook?"

Trent smiled. "Figured I'd need to bring something to the table, so to speak. Signed up for an adult education class at the community center."

"I'm impressed."

"Scored some Brownie points with your Mom, too. I talked your Dad into taking the class with me."

Daria laughed. "I always knew you were smarter than you let on. Go ahead, let's see what you can do." She opened the pantry for him.

He rummaged around and pulled a few items out, setting them on the counter. Choosing a jar from the cabinet, he poured in a little soy sauce, sesame oil, rice vinegar, a pinch of salt and white pepper and a bit of sugar. "This is an easy salad dressing that'll go great with that chicken," Trent explained, working quickly.

"I'll get the rice going; that takes the longest time to cook."

"Damn, that was great," Jane sighed. "You're getting really good at this."

"All I did was wash some of the salad veggies and marinate the chicken," Daria grinned. "Your brother did everything else. You might get yourself banned from the kitchen, except for cleanup."

"Trent cooked?"

"Only brother of yours around here," came the deadpan reply.

"Can we keep him?" Jane grinned.

"Oh, if we must. I'm pretty sure he's housebroken." Daria was looking forward to the weekend.

.