The First Rule of One Night Stands
By Kay
Disclaimer: Attempted to steal the series. Failed miserably. Will hunt KA Applegate down and tell her, "All your Jalil are belong to us." May not succeed, though.
Author's Notes: YAY! Happy birthday, Miss Andrea! ^_^ It's Duck-K's very, very, VERY late birthday present-please enjoy. I'm so sorry it's so very late. But Jalil was crying because I've been neglecting him for Harry Potter fanfiction-
Jalil: I was not! ;_;
It's okay, love. I understand. ^_^ So please enjoy, Miss Andrea, and I love you! I was going to upload it when I finished the entire thing, but in the end, I decided to do it by parts as it's turning out so much longer than I originally thought... ^^;; Besides... you sounded like you needed some cheering up after reading that goddamned awful Marriage quote crap. Grr.
Anyway. Christopher/David SLASH, that means homo-sex-uality! Takes place after the end of the series, probably a year or so afterwards.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Rules of a One Night Stand
Rule 1: When desiring a one night stand, always plan it ahead of time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The party was in full swing, and Christopher had beer.
Over in the left corner, he could see a group of multicolored nymphs giggling and pressing themselves against random party guests. For a second, he was tempted to join them, but the impulse was smothered by the fact that he was just too comfortable to move. The chair he was sitting in should've been illegal. Honest. It was too nice, too squishy and pleasant, and he could just lay back and sip his beer, and watch people make idiots out of themselves without revealing he was just as drunk--
Oh yeah.
Life. Was. Good.
"I think half of Everworld came to this," April yelled loudly in his ear. She made a wide, sweeping gesture with the glass of mead some random Greek boy had shoved into her hand earlier that evening. Christopher grinned at her.
"Only half?"
"Okay, so three fourths. I mean, look at all those people!"
"I think most of them are Merlin's buddies. Except not old," he added, taking another satisfied swig of ale. Some random Viking had assured him earlier that it was, without a doubt, one of the best brews to ever grace the world. Christopher wouldn't go that far, as he knew for a fact that Guinness was better, but had to grudgingly admit that it was, actually, really good beer.
Honestly, he was only on his second glass and the room was already spinning.
"Well, he's an ancient wizard. He has to know a lot of important people," April said absently, her green eyes scanning the crowd. "Have you seen David and Jalil? I lost them about an hour ago. Merlin wanted to introduce them to a few of the Celtic gods he managed to scrounge up. Something about making strong ties and new allies over a few pints… letting them win a few card games…"
"Yeah, I haven't seen 'em since." Christopher considered, tilting his head and studying the mass of people in front of them. The entire party was being held in Daggermouth's largest room, a high-canopied ballroom of sorts that stretched far above even the heads of the many gods who had chosen to attend. Candles glimmering with magical lights were strung across the soft yellow walls, cheerful against the night sky peeking through the windows. All in all, it was a beautiful effect, and the hazy atmosphere wasn't really helping his mind become any more sober.
All in all, he didn't really care, either.
"I hope everything's going alright," April was saying pensively, biting her lip. He shot a look at the redhead, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"They'll live for an hour without you, I think."
"I wanted to meet the Celtic gods, too," she retorted irritably, looking slightly put out. "Just because David's a General guy, and Jalil can make pretty sparks with wires, doesn't mean they should get to meet everyone… damn it. I can be just as helpfuless!"
"Helpfuless?" Christopher repeated. He shot her an incredulous look, ignoring the sweet bliss of drunkenness for a moment. "Are you smashed, April?"
April scowled at him, but her face was red.
"You are trashed," he said gleefully, vindictive pleasure rolling over him in happy waves. "Good job!"
"Oh, shut up, Christopher."
He noticed the clenching of her fists, and wisely, decided to do so. There were only so many things he could do to piss April off before she either decked him, or in some cases, made particularly cruel shots about his love life. The latter was far worse, of course, and he'd rather avoid hearing about the Roman girl who'd turned him down just a week ago in favor of a satyr with a bad case of fleas.
Some people had no taste.
"I think David decided to lurk in the corner," he said instead, grumbling slightly under his breath. "Some goddess of corn or something kept hitting on him and asking to see his sword."
"Ah."
"You going to look for him?"
April wrinkled her nose, appearing to consider it. Her eyes scanned the crowd again, huffing slightly at the mass of people talking, laughing, and attempting to dance. "I don't know if I want to risk it."
"Afraid of those Greek gods?" Christopher asked, leering.
"And lechers. Like you."
"Ah, but you sit next to the greatest lecher of them all. How lovely," he drawled, taking another sip of brew. He waggled his eyebrows at her over the rim of the mug. She rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. You're right, I'm out of here. Gonna track down Merlin and give him a piece of my mind about feminine rights and the Senna Falls Convention…" she mumbled, stumbling only slightly as she got to her feet. "Do us all a favor. When you're trying to be lecherous? Don't let Etain see you. She nearly took a nose dive into some disgusting bath water last week because you smiled at one of the servants."
Christopher scowled heavily at her back as it began to weave through the crowd.
"Gee, thanks, that's a real mood picker-upper," he snarled under his breath. He had beer. And a party. And a squishy, overly comfortable chair. The last thing Christopher wanted to think about was a certain, beautiful half-elfish princess.
It was disturbing. Ever since her marriage to King Baldwin, Etain had been rather difficult to handle. On one hand, she claimed she and Christopher were doomed to live their lives as "mutual allies and tender friends" until the dwarf-dude died. On the other hand, however, she was throwing suicidal, overly dramatic fits every time he tried to flirt with someone of the opposite sex.
It was actually starting to go from flattering to extremely annoying.
"Do I look like I'm her property?" Christopher demanded of the chair beside him. He took another deep drink of beer, noting sadly that it was almost gone before he turned back to the immobile furniture. "At this rate, I'll won't be having sex until I'm forty-eight. Christ."
"No, but you're named after him," a dry voice interjected, plopping down next to him in the very same chair he was talking to.
"Jalil, you just sat on my new friend."
The mocha-skinned scientist paused, a perplexed expression crossing his face. He stared at Christopher. "What?"
The blonde sighed. "Nevermind."
"… fine." Jalil glanced at him sideways, dark eyes flashing with curiosity and amusement. "Have you been sitting here, talking to yourself the entire time?"
"No, you just missed April."
"Ah. April the real April, or April the hallucination of your alcohol imbibed mind?"
"No. Real April," Christopher muttered darkly, taking another sullen drink. It emptied his glass, and he glared at it in disgust. "She's mean. I don't like her right now."
Jalil chuckled. "Sorry? Look, I didn't come over here to chat…"
"You're mean, too."
"No-it's not that. It's just… look, I've been talking to one of these Welsh mythological gods, and I promised I'd show him the library here. Except I don't want to leave David at the party alone."
Christopher peered up from his glass, wrinkling his nose. "General?"
"Yeah." Jalil grimaced, partly in bemusement and partly in an attempt not to snicker painfully. "One of the knights apparently mocked his sword technique, and he's been tossing down glasses of mead ever since. I've been trying to keep an eye on him to make sure no one carries him away or--or whatever--but I'd like you to do that for a while, if you're not too drunk to handle it."
"We have a library in Daggermouth?" Christopher wondered aloud, ignoring everything that was just said. Jalil narrowed his eyes at him.
"What, you thought I've been spending most of my time lurking in the dungeons or something?"
"It occurred to me." Actually, it hadn't.
"Screw you. And look, just do me this favor, okay? Baby-sit David for just a while."
"You're going up to the library with a Welsh god?" Christopher asked dubiously. "Is that safe?"
"Christopher!"
"I just don't think it's a good idea. He might… I don't know. Molest you with books or something," sulked the blonde. Jalil flashed him a scornful, 'You're Too Moronic' look.
"Just go keep David out of trouble, okay? We need our General in one piece, you know, if we want to win the war."
"General. Trouble. One Piece. Got it," Christopher affirmed sagely, attempting to nod and getting mixed up in the end. He looked down, surprised to find another half-empty glass of beer in his hand. "Um. When'd that get there?"
Jalil gave an impatient sigh, standing to his feet. He reached out with a skinny, wiry arm and hauled Christopher up by his collar with a shocking strength. The blonde stumbled up, clutching the mug of ale tightly so it wouldn't spill all over him.
"Just go," the mocha-skinned scientist said firmly, shoving him towards the end of the room. "He's drowning himself in mead in the far corner. Don't let anyone drag him off, and take him back to his room if he passes out."
Part of Christopher wanted to say something scathing and bitter, probably about not being the General's keeper or something. But he took one look at Jalil's face, plainly describing a threat of bodily harm if he didn't comply, or something worse like taking away his beer, and decided it was in his best interest to obey. Snatching another pint off of a tray some pretty Roman thing was carrying, the blonde began to stumble his way through the crowd towards the farthest, most shadowed corner.
"Damn pushy bookworm people, and damn sensitive Generals…"
Had he known what would happen, he would have told Jalil to shove his Welsh god straight up his--
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rule 2: When waking, no matter who's in bed with you, do not panic.
Do not panic.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The morning sun was burning him alive.
Christopher let out a muffled groan, shoving his head under his pillow. "Grrfffmnn… shut it off…"
Okay, some bastard with a vindictive streak left him laying in what felt like his own bed, sans the usual blankets. In fact, he realized with a twitch, he had nothing on, either. So he was a miserably naked person without blankets. So kind of cold. Damn castle drafts… and he thought it wasn't so bad until this winter thing had come along… good grief.
And someone had turned on the sun at about a million and one watts.
Life. Was. Hell.
"S'too early for light," he muttered darkly, attempting to smother himself with the limp pillow. "Garfnnff."
Something was poking him in the ribs, too. Christopher scowled to himself, feeling the pains of a hangover creeping into his head and cheerfully knocking against his skull. It was almost enough to make him wish he'd never drink again. Almost. Instead, he decided it must have been worth it at the time-although he couldn't remember the time to clarify it-and shoved back at whatever was digging into his side.
It groaned.
'Oh. Oh shit. Well, that's new.'
Okay, he had to remain calm. Christopher was almost wide awake now, frozen with his head buried under the pillow. He slowly took stock of his situation again. In bed. Morning after party. Massive fucking hangover. Smell of cheap alcohol and sweat in the air. No blankets, utterly naked, backside definitely getting frostbite. Someone next to him-- yeah, he could hear them breathing now, taking deep and slow breaths of air-- who seemed to enjoy shoving their bony little elbow into his diaphragm, and therefore bruising it forever.
It could only mean one thing.
He so totally got laid.
'I got laid, I got laid!' his mind gleefully sang, shoving any pangs of headache away with its power. 'Who hasn't gotten turned down for a satyr now, huh, April? Oh yeah, I got laid, and it wasn't even Etain… maybe a goddess. Yeah, that'd be cool. I got laid by a goddess! I just had sex-SEX-with a goddess!'
She groaned again, deep and troubled, before smacking her elbow into his side again. Christopher took it cheerfully.
"Good morning," he mumbled dreamily to himself. Okay, he definitely had sex. He could feel it. The sparkling, tingling sensation of renewal. The pleasurable satisfaction in his mind, soul, and body. The fact that he was incredibly naked, and in bed with another person, and resisting the urge to put his arm around her. This was good. This was definitely good.
Christopher pushed the pillow off of his head, tousling his golden hair into disarray. He shook it madly, combing it back with his fingers. After doing so, he peered curiously at the heap that had stolen his blankets sometime in the middle of the night, seeing only a dark shock of hair peeking out of the top.
"Hmm, not a blonde, but not bad," he muttered to himself. He propped up on an elbow, nudging the mass of covers. "Hey, um… lady. Miss. M'lady. Whatever. You awake?"
Another muffled groan, followed by a 'ignoring you, sleeping now' sort of snort.
"Hey, that's cool. Just checking."
A long pause ensued.
No matter how long Christopher wracked his brain, he couldn't recall anything from the night before. He remembered some of the party, and something about a chair being his newest best friend, but the rest was scraps. Something about Etain, and then something about libraries and Welsh people. Something about good beer and mahogany eyes that were nice, and looking at him blearily, and looking even nicer. Something about stumbling back to his room and tripping over shoelaces, and--
But nothing of a name, a face, an identity.
Christopher chewed his lip, studying the pile of blankets suspiciously. Surely he hadn't slept with Etain. That would've sucked. She'd throw a fit and toss him out of the castle, probably, if her husband didn't. Besides, she had lighter hair than that. More like cinnamon than the burnt caramel that this person sported. Not near as husky and deep a voice, for sure.
Okay, so not Etain. A goddess, probably.
Christopher grinned to himself.
Entertaining himself with the idea of immortality with a sexy woman and servants, he reached forward to pull down the blankets covering the face of his mysterious lover. Surely a one night stand could last longer? If she was a goddess and pretty enough, even his slowly fading love for Etain might not keep him here at Daggermouth…
"Morning, beautiful la--"
Christopher blinked.
Frowned blankly.
Pulled the blankets down some more, revealing the short mahogany hair, the strong chin, and graceful eyelashes that were sitting on an all-too-familiar face. Sloping nose, dark and brooding eyebrows, pale neck and rather pretty lips.
He gaped at David Levin's sleeping face.
Although his brain had shut down, and his reactions were slow and muddled, Christopher did what any self-respecting, supposed-heterosexual would do. He screamed, threw himself out of bed, and knocked a random candle holder over onto the floor.
That. Was not a goddess.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rule 3: Treat your newest lover with a gentle courtesy and appreciation.
Do not throw them out.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BED, YOU PERVERT!" shrieked a highly hysterical Christopher Hitchcock.
David mumbled something irritably, shoving the blankets over his head again and burrowing comfortably. Christopher glared spitefully at him, tugging at a sheet to wrap around his waist as he stood again.
"David! David, you stupid jackass, that's my bed! Mine! My blankets, my sheets, my--my pillow you're hugging, goddammit--"
Christopher gritted his teeth, reaching out and shoving the boy reluctantly. The warm flesh tingled at his fingertips, and he scowled some more. There was no reaction from the slumbering youth.
"Bastard," the blonde growled, panic crawling up his chest still. "I bet you weren't even a good lay-I mean, NO! No, I didn't lay you, or anyone like you, or any… I mean… damn it. I'm screwed. This is bad. Okay, okay, get out."
No response. Christopher smacked his head.
"OUT, you miserable freak! There's the door-time to exit! Exit as in leave and take your sorry ass with you!"
David growled something in his sleep, waving his batting hand away and huddling deeper in the covers.
Christopher felt like crying. Instead, he just took a few deep breaths, wished for some more alcohol despite his hangover, and decided to think things through a bit.
Okay, time to take new stock of the situation: Not Very Damn Good.
First, he was naked. In a bed. With David 'I'm As Straight As Christopher Is' Levin. Who may or may not have been naked, and no, Christopher wasn't about to check. Either way, those blankets were getting washed as soon as possible. And he took it back about the sex feeling-he didn't feel like he'd had sex at all. It was just his imagination. He wasn't feeling any sort of pleasurable satisfaction that came from a long night of getting it on like wild rabbits; no, more of a dull sort of horror and fascination that resulted out of staring at the innards of a dissected frog in Biology class.
Honestly. And that had to be that.
"General," Christopher started to call loudly. He stopped. Frowning worriedly, he sat down gingerly on the bed as though it would bite him. Surely he couldn't wake David up in this condition. Who knows what would happen? And he couldn't remember what happened last night. What if David did, and it wasn't good? What did happen last night? What the hell was going on here?!
David slept on, oblivious, and now definitely starting to snuffle happily in his dreams. Christopher spared him a glower of discontent before turning back to his unhappy thoughts.
'Okay. So you woke up, albeit naked, with David. That doesn't have to mean anything. You could've slept walked and took off your clothes in the middle of the night. And carried him to your bed, thinking he was… Etain. A slightly heavier, yet still pretty short and light, Etain. Or maybe a Nicole Kidman. He has the lips for it. No! We don't use Nicole Kidman and David's lips in the same sentence, damn it! Damn it, Chris, bad thoughts! Bad!' He banged his head on his hands a few times. 'Okay. Calm down. He's in your bed, still asleep, and judging from the amount of alcohol we probably had, will be knocked out for a while. He's a light drinker. We've got until after noon probably. All you have to do is figure out what happened exactly.'
Okay. Yeah, that was a good plan. Christopher let out a long breath.
Once he figured out exactly what happened, he could make a game plan. Something like running for the nearest bordering land, or hiding forever in Hetwan territory. All he had to do was turn into a bug. He could do that, if needs be.
Someone had to know what happened. At least, know more than he did. And there was no way in hell he'd stick around to ask David when he woke up.
So, throwing on the nearest clothing and taking another quick look to make sure Sleeping Prince wasn't about to wake up and slice his ass with Galahad's sword, Christopher made a quick exit.
Time to go see April.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rule 4: Remember that breakfast in bed is always a thoughtful gesture.
You didn't leave them to wake up alone, did you?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
End of Part One: In the upcoming part, Christopher seeks out numerous accounts on what exactly happened last night, David wakes up with a massive feckin' hangover... and Jalil gets to look cute and have immortal hotties pet his hair. XD Whee~! Happy late birthday, Miss Duck-K~!
And now, I'd like to ask everyone a special favor. Please, please take a moment and protest against the Marriage Protection Act. All you have to do is sign this petition at the following address: (and delete the spaces I had to put in there)
http:// www.hrc.org/ millionformarriage/ index.asp
Or write to your congressmen at this address:
http:// www.hrcactioncenter.org/ actioncenter/ lobby_marriage.html#three
It's never too late to speak out. I'm sure many of you know about it, and what's going on right now. And I know its a shameless plug and stupid of me to ask this of people I don't know, but consider it your own birthday gift to Miss Duck-K, who's as frustrated as I am with all the bigotry in the world. ^_^ Pretty please? With a Jalil in Leather on top? If I get enough emails telling me you did it, I'll write more "Caution: Falling!" Well, I am anyway. But I'll do it faster. *heart*
Thanks for reading! See you soon!
