Sunday Morning After
A Gila monster had taken a shit in the mouth of Zack Ryder. At least, that's what it tasted like. Grimacing against the offensive taste that filled his mouth, Zack lifted his head from his pillow.
Big mistake.
Pain speared through his brain. Sharp as a spike. The slightest movement set off a cluster bomb of misery. Unable to bear it, Zack let his head fall. At least the pillow was soft. A small comfort.
It was his own fault. He should have known better. In the history of mankind, no good results were ever produced by alcoholic beverages involving flames or named after explosives. Such a horrible, horrible mistake.
Never again.
The spike in his skull lessened to a dull throb. Became a slight pounding at his temples. The pain was a bit more manageable.
Zack confronted the waking world.
The closed curtains prevented the room from filling with sunlight. A small miracle for his aching eyes. They burned almost as badly as those flaming shots he'd foolishly consumed the night before.
Three flaming shots, two rounds of straight Tequila, and something called an Irish Car Bomb. Rum followed. In copious amounts until most of his internal organs threatened to revolt.
Never again.
A low groan from beside him immediately drew his attention.
Up until that point, Zack had been under the impression that he had the bed all to himself. Of course, most of the details after the Car Bomb were fuzzy. Surely, the invitation of a bedmate could not have slipped his mind.
Zack wasn't the type to engage in random hookups. He'd had enough of women. Enough of their games and fake feelings. What he needed was time on his own. To focus on himself for a change.
Captain Morgan seemed to have other things in mind.
Being the bad guy sucked. Zack hoped he didn't have to deal with a clinger. The last thing he wanted was another relationship. She needed get up, get out, and fade from his already impaired memory.
"Hey," Zack croaked. His throat was incredibly dry. He realized that, at some point, he would have to disinfect his tongue. Alcohol was most definitely not his BFF.
He raised his arm to shake the unconscious person beside him. This brought about a number of startling discoveries. The first shock was the metal handcuff locked around his wrist. Which led to the realization that he had slept in the nude. After putting the two facts together, Zack was not entirely secure in the knowledge that sleeping had been the only activity to go on in his bed the night before.
Who the hell brought handcuffs to a one night stand? What kind of freaky chick had he gone home with? And why the hell didn't anybody try to stop?
Zack was in no condition to deal with this. Emotionally, physically, or mentally. Not to be cold-hearted, but the bar hookup needed to get packing. She didn't have to go home, but she had to get out of his life and forget that she had even met him.
A blonde head poked out from beneath the covers. Zack pulled the blanket back.
Booze truly was the tool of the Devil.
Dolph Ziggler cuddled a pillow, snoring lightly. One hand was tucked underneath his head. The other wore an identical metal handcuff. Chain link connected him to Zack. As far as the drawn back sheet showed, Dolph wore not a stitch of clothing.
Had the man been at the bar?
Yes. Zack's clouded brain confirmed spotting him at one point taking a turn at the dart board. He'd been pretty good at it, actually. Managed a bull's eye or two. Not that Zack had been watching or anything.
It suddenly occurred to him how calm he was. Given the circumstances, a massive freakout was more than warranted. Yet Zack remained almost serene. He assessed the situation, combed his memory for clues, and attempted to come up with a solution. Maybe he'd gone so quickly through the panic phase that he now stood on the other side.
Strange.
Struggling into a sitting position, he poked Dolph with his unshackled hand. The other man snorted like a truffle-hunting pig, but did not wake up. Ziggler was dead to the world.
Well, not completely dead.
"Oh, Vickie…" Dolph moaned. "I've been a bad, bad boy."
This, Zack did not need. "Dear God, please strike me dead." He smacked Dolph on his bare back.
Not a smart move.
"Oh, yeah!" More moaning from Dolph with some dry heaving from Zack. "Bad boys need to be punished. Spank me, Mommy."
This was a level of freaky that Ryder could not endure. "Hey!" he shouted, growing less serene by the second. He bopped Dolph on the head. "Wake up! I am not your Mommy!" The fact that he had to say those words made his already sensitive stomach churn.
Dolph cracked open an eye. Upon spying Zack scowling down at him, he bolted up and nearly tumbled off the bed. "What the… How the… What the fuck?"
Ryder allowed Ziggler to have his freakout. He would remain the calmer of the two. "I was hoping you could tell me, bro."
"I am not your bro!" snapped Dolph. If looks could kill, Zack would have been granted the death he had asked the Almighty to provide.
"And I'm not your Mommy." Zack tried not to laugh as Dolph turned from pale to red to nearly purple.
Sputtering indignantly, Dolph shoved Zack away. Then he noticed the handcuffs. Up went his blood pressure. "What the hell is this?" He frantically waved his manacled arm. "I don't know what kind of sick games you like to play…"
Ryder raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the bad boy that needs to be punished."
The vein in Dolph's forehead pulsed. His jaw clenching in time to the throbbing. "Get these off, you degenerate."
"I'd love to." Zack shrugged. "But they're not mine." He wiggled his eyebrows at Dolph. "I figured…"
Ziggler caught his meaning and did not like it one bit. "What would I be doing with handcuffs?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want answered." As much fun as he had watching Ziggler blow his top, the handcuffs were a real sticky situation. Not literally, lucky for them both. "Look, if you don't have a key, we're gonna have to find someone who can get us out of these." Zack wished he could recall how they'd gotten in them in the first place.
Dolph huffed and glared and did everything but help Zack think. He tried folding his arms across his chest and ended up pulling Zack closer. Thus starting a heated round of tug of war. It ended when Dolph yanked too hard and both men fell off the bed.
Ryder ended up on top. "I win." Slowly came the realization that every naked inch of his body was pressed against every naked inch of Dolph's. Chest to chest. Belly to belly. Crotch to crotch. Nothing was left to the imagination. "Then again, let's just call it a draw."
They scrambled to their feet, nearly bumping heads in their haste. It was better than bumping uglies. Each man took great care not to let their eyes wander down below the neck. Further south laid dangerous territory.
"Where are my clothes?" whined Dolph. He looked around the room, but came up empty. "This cannot be happening!" He gripped his hair in his hands, again ignoring the chain that connected them. Soon he'd begin tearing out his blond locks in chunks. Desperation quickly turned to anger. Dolph's default emotion. He jabbed Zack in the chest with his finger. "What did you do to me?"
Ryder took immediate offense. "Me? Of the two of us, who is more likely to do something so underhanded as to spike the other's drink?" If Zack couldn't blame their predicament on drugs, he'd damn sure blame it on the alcohol.
"Yeah, right! Because I was so desperate to get at your ass that I took advantage of your inebriated state and had my merry way with you." From his tone, Dolph would have rather had carnal relations with a corpse. "Vickie satisfies all my needs. Trust me on that."
The last thing Zack needed was to visualize Vickie Guerrero in any needs satisfying capacity. "I've lived through enough horror, thank you very much." If only he could remember it. A double-edged sword, those hidden memories. They would prove to be both clarifying and disturbing. "Besides, what makes you think that I didn't have my way with you?"
All that talk of satisfying and way-having was making him uncomfortable. They should not try to argue the details while buck naked. Clothes needed to be found. Only then, and with a clear head, could they hope to make any sense of the last few hours.
Zack waved aside the impending insult. "How about continuing this discussion when I don't feel a breeze on my balls?" He spotted his suitcase in the corner. At least they were in his room.
"Easy for you to say." Dolph dragged his feet as Zack tried to lead him towards the bag. "I haven't got anything to wear. Don't tell me I came here naked."
If he lived to be ninety-three, Zack never wanted to hear Dolph Ziggler say came again. "You can borrow something of mine, if you like."
Few people in the company, perhaps in the world, sneered like Dolph. "Are you really comfortable with the thought of my bare ass in your pants? Which is the only article of clothing either of us can put on because of these." He jiggled their shackled wrists. "Not unless you expect me to hang a sock on my dick."
Zack nearly tore the zipper off his suitcase. "From now on, there's gonna be a list of words that cannot be used while two naked men are chained together." He pulled out a pair of jeans. "Top of the list, came. This also applies to come. Second, dick. Third, balls. If you can think of others, please feel free to add them."
Even though there was no problem getting legs through the holes, there was still the matter of needing both hands. Zack's companion stood as still as a statue while he tried to get dressed. Zack threw down the pants in exasperation. "Why do you have to make this so hard?"
"That should be on the list."
"What?"
"Hard," said Dolph. "It has… implications."
Zack was beginning to regret starting the list. "Will you forget about the implications and help me with this? If I can't use both hands, at least lend me one of yours."
"You leave my hands out of this," said Dolph. "God only knows where you put them last. They have been violated enough."
If he were able, Zack would have strangled the man with his pants. "Then bend over!"
Dolph turned red right up to his hair line. "I will not! I'm not drunk and I'm no catcher!"
A furious pounding at the door kept Zack from giving in to his homicidal urges. It also reminded him that they were in no condition to receive guests. The banging continued. Whoever stood on the other side of the door did not intend to go away.
The two nude men made do. They raced to the bathroom, nearly getting jammed up in the doorway as they both tried to go through it at once. Shouldering Dolph aside, Zack grabbed two large bath towels. Teamwork helped them get around their waists.
Since it was Zack's room, he answered the knock. Dolph hid behind the door.
His day was one surprise after another.
Justin Gabriel and Heath Slater stood before him. Each looked like they would have rather been tap dancing on the Sun than standing outside his hotel room. Zack quickly discovered the cause of their discomfort. Kane, the Devil's favorite demon, held both men by the scruff of their necks. Though he wore his mask, Zack assumed that the large man was prepared to snap those necks at any moment.
Kane shoved Justin and Heath forward. "Tell him what you did." The words sounded like a death threat.
After a fair bit of neck rubbing, Justin spoke up. "Heath and I…" He glanced up at Kane and shuddered. "We kinda played a trick on your and Dolph Ziggler."
The second victim of the practical joke sprang from behind the door, nearly knocking Zack over. "What?"
"Oh," said Heath. "There you are." His eyes landed on the handcuffs. "Haven't gotten out of those yet, huh?"
"No!" growled Dolph. His blazing eyes promised bloody vengeance. "We haven't got the key, you dick!"
"What did I say about dick?" Zack reminded him.
Ziggler snapped, "Now is not the time!"
"Wow," said Justin. "Chill out. It's not that serious."
Dolph's lunge almost dislodged their towels. It took all of Zack's strength to restrain him.
Heath tried unsuccessfully to hide behind Kane. "It was just a joke! Don't get your panties in a twist!"
"I wish I was wearing panties!" shouted Dolph.
"Unnecessary imagery," said Kane. "Please refrain."
The inclusion of the Big Red Monster in the hijinks did not sit well with Zack. "What's your part in all this?"
Kane simply shrugged. "I overheard these two loud-mouthed morons talking in the lobby. They said they got you and Ziggler good and couldn't wait to see your faces when you came down from your room. So I decided to make their dreams come true. Think of it as my good deed of the decade."
It was too much for Zack to wrap his head around. What had he ever done to Justin or Heath to deserve such foul treatment? He decided to find out. "Why would you want to trick us into sleeping with each other? Sure, Dolph's an egotistical pain in the ass."
"Ass is on your list," said Dolph.
"No, it's not."
"Then it should be."
"My point," continued Zack, giving Dolph a sideways glare, "is that I'm a nice guy. Nice guys don't get Roofied."
Heath and Justin exchanged a look.
"Pardon my ignorance," said Heath, "but what the hell are you talking about?"
Anger rising, Dolph responded, "You spiked our drinks with Spanish Fly or Xstasy or some other God awful thing to get me and Zack to fuck like bunnies for your amusement!"
"Again," said Kane. "Unnecessary imagery. Please refrain or I will be forced to hurt you and the time it will take me to beat the crap out of you will make me late for The Hunger Games.
Heath perked up. "Oh, I heard that was good. Can we come, too? We don't have to sit together or anything. Justin and I can follow you in our car."
Dolph lost his temper. "Will you please focus?" His hands were in his hair again. Ready to start tearing.
"Right," said Heath, back on task. "Well, we didn't do that. What you said, I mean. We didn't do anything to make the two of you hot for each other."
"But you said…"
"The handcuffs," Justin interjected. "We put the handcuffs on you. And they're the trick kind. No key needed. You just…" He squeezed the wrist link of each handcuff and they popped open. "Poof. Like magic."
Kane asked, "Do I even want to know why you own a pair of trick handcuffs?"
"Magic is fun," said Justin.
Free of the bonds that had linked them together, Zack and Dolph slowly backed away from each other.
Dolph stammered, "But… but… That doesn't make any sense."
Zack picked up his train of thought. "If you didn't slip us a Mickey, then how did this happen?" He referred to their barely concealed nakedness.
"No clue," said Heath. "We were coming back from a Slim Jim and Slurpee run when the two of you stumbled into the hotel."
"Practically sucking each other's faces off," Justin added. "Since you two obviously intended to do the deed, we just thought it would be funny if you woke up cuffed together."
Heath further explained, "One of the cleaning ladies let us in this morning. I pretended I had lost my key. And there you two were. Passed out next to each other. We managed to get the cuffs on and slip out pretty easily."
"And we even hung up the Do Not Disturb sign," said Justin. "We figured you might want to… ya know… Go for round two. Or three. As many times as you liked."
Kane proclaimed, "That's enough images for today. Come on, you two. The movie starts in twenty minutes and I don't want to miss the coming attractions."
"Don't say coming," both Zack and Dolph said in unison. They looked at each other, and then quickly looked away.
Justin grinned as his partner in crime trailed after Kane. "Why don't you keep the cuffs?" He forced them into Zack's hand. "I can pick up a new pair another time. You fellas have a good time." A quick wink and he walked away.
So there'd been a trick, alright. Just not the kind Zack had figured on. He wanted to believe that Heath and Justin were lying. Except they wouldn't have bothered to fess up to one act of delinquency and not another. Kane must have taken their words for truth because he was content to let them leave after spilling their guts.
Drowning his sorrows was one thing. But seeking comfort in the arms and lips of Dolph Ziggler…
The thought made Zack want to bathe in battery acid.
"There's just one thing I still don't understand," said Dolph. "Where the hell are my clothes?"
END