A/N: So I've gotten a few PMs from people asking, "What the hell is the What Happens In Vegas series?" And my response is usually, "It's a crappy ficlet-based story that needed some room to breathe. (And I also started breaking the rules of the super awesome TwistedShorts challenge in August because I can't not write in chapter format so I got super fed up with myself and the story and started all over.)" Alas, I've gotten enough inquiries that I'm reposting it here and on TtH - and athankyou to those who did inquire. :D
NO LONGER BEING UPDATED - it will only consist of the 12 ficlets! This is currently being rewritten as A Rush of Blood to the Head! Think of this unfinished story as that story's lackluster, funny cousin who was too skinny words-wise. (Additional A/N at the end if you make it that far...)
Bad Morning
By Bre
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.
Rating: R/FR18
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. This idea literally hit me the other night as I've been sick and lying in bed. In my crazy, sick thoughts, I wondered what would happen in Bre Land if this scenario played out… have heard this idea has been done before but I've avoided it like the plague so I don't accidentally copy!
A/N 2: Day 1 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. We'll see how long I can keep this up…
A/N 3: Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation. In theory, along with each post, it will be a day in their lives.
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)
Word Count: 1,995
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS, definitely. For the sake of this series, I won't play too much in Season 8. And random SPN. We'll see where it falls as the series gains speed…
Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 1: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas… right? Two people wake up together in a hotel room, naked, angry and wanting answers…
It had been a long damn time since Dean Winchester had fallen asleep in a bed as soft as the one he laid in. It felt delicious, heavenly… like goose feathers were stuffed into the mattress and the sheets were made of silk or some crap. He didn't even care, it felt good as he stretched his arms, his hand knocking into the headboard. Smacking his lips, he tasted the familiar flavor of old whiskey still on his tongue and he groaned, propping himself up on an elbow.
"Oh, Christ," he mumbled to himself, rubbing his eyes before squinting them open. It only served to let him know that his head felt like someone was thundering the hammer of Thor against his skull as the bright sunlight pierced directly through his brain, his hangover bursting at the seams. "Ugh," he moaned, closing his eyes, falling back on the bed. Goddamn, how much did he drink last night?
He barely remembered anything past entering the strip club on the Strip. Not a good sign. Where was Sam? Better, more urgent question, where the hell was he?
Forcing his eyes open, Dean blinked rapidly as he let them adjust to the sun streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows that dominated one side of the suite. He frowned at them as he looked around before rolling onto his other side – and right into his bedmate.
"Oh, crap," he said softly, backpedalling quickly and he watched with wide eyes as the woman in bed with him mumbled something, her head moving as she turned around to face him, still asleep. She adjusted just enough for the sheet to fall down to her waist as she settled on her stomach. Dean raised an eyebrow at her when she absently wiped her face of drool before falling deeper into rest. "Oh, crap."
Dean would be a lying bastard if he didn't admit right then and there that this was a damn hot woman. He wondered if he should feel a little bit of shame for being grateful he hadn't picked up one of Hell's hellions in his drunken stupor as he'd done before. Raising his eyebrows in appreciation, Dean checked her out. Ridiculous amounts of sex-tangled, blonde hair? Check. Smooth, pale, taut skin? Check. Super toned and sexy body? Check. Cute face despite the smeared makeup? Check. Tattoo of a rose with some unreadable letters on a banner scrolling underneath it on her shoulder? Not check. Dean leaned in closer, snorting when he realized it was a temporary tattoo. What the hell had he gotten into last night?
It only led him back to the question of where the hell he was and where the hell Sammy was.
Looking around the room, Dean sat up, realizing he was naked. He smirked at himself. Rightio, got himself lucky last night… He saw scattered clothes all over the floor, the very expensive floor. He noticed one of his shoes was sitting on a table across the room, a bra hanging on a doorknob and panties that must belong to the luscious creature next to him hanging on the lamp on his side. He chuckled and took inventory of the room itself. Definitely, definitely not in Kansas anymore. They had to be at the Bellagio or that triangle place or somewhere…
Just then the woman next to him groaned loudly and he felt the bed shift as she moved around some more. Dean leaned back on the bed, watching her with a raised eyebrow as she shifted again, facing away from him. She kicked her legs a bit, causing the sheet to fall further down her body and Dean couldn't keep himself from staring as her bare ass came into view. He licked his lips before settling back down on his side. She stilled again and Dean pursed his lips before averting his eyes to the ceiling.
The demon they had tracked here had been taken care of last night. Boom, quick and easy exorcism and then it was fun times ahead… The last time Dean saw Sam was at the bar, he remembered, before they had parted ways with Sam going back to their crappy motel room while Dean took in some lovely female skin at a random strip club. So, this meant Sam was probably in their room, wondering where the hell Dean was which meant Dean should probably get up and call him, let him know he's not dead.
It also meant that Sam was safe in the motel room which meant Dean could roll over and partake one more time of this lovely little slice…
Dean bit his bottom lip as he turned to face the woman, his head instantly feeling better when his hand landed on the small of her back. She responded, goose bumps erupting underneath his fingers as he moved his hand up her spine. She let out a little sigh, pushing into his hand and he grinned. He touched her fake tattoo, parts of it already crumbling off her skin before gripping her shoulder and turning her towards him. She let out a little moan of protest, her face crinkling as she moved with him. It was almost too easy as Dean pulled her into his arms, licking his lips as she burrowed into his chest, once more grumbling under her breath. He heard something about letting the little jerks out before they killed each other but he ignored it as he put a finger under her chin, lifting her face and he pressed his lips against hers.
She didn't respond for a moment and Dean was about to pull away when she suddenly came to life in his arms. He couldn't tell if she was awake or not as she pressed her lips against his, pressing her naked body up against his, mewling like a cat in heat. She wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer and Dean went along gladly, enjoying the little moans she kept releasing as he rolled on top of her.
He could feel his body responding like the crack of a whip as she raised her legs, wrapping them loosely around him. The sheet was annoyingly in the way as Dean rubbed himself against her and she broke the kiss off, arching her back, pressing her breasts against him and Dean stared down at her. Good God, she was sexy as hell. Dean let out a short breath, all the blood in his body suddenly on fire as he responded. He shoved his face into her neck, his lips finding her pulse point. He felt the raised skin of a round scar on her neck and he ran his tongue over it. He felt one of her hands on the back of his head, pushing him further into her and he bit down gently. She let out a breathy moan, her fingers curling into his hair and Dean was about ready to rip the sheet away when she suddenly stiffened.
And then her hands were on his shoulders as she pushed him off of her with inhuman strength, her legs suddenly nowhere near him. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion as he met her eyes and all he saw was green fury before he was shoved away. Dean let out a little yelp as the momentum from her push caused him to roll off the bed and land right on his ass.
"Son of a bitch!" he growled, slapping the bed before standing quickly. He grabbed the sheet to cover himself but she was already on the other end, holding it to her chest as she glowered at him.
"Who the hell are you?" she snapped.
"Whoa, whoa!" Dean responded, holding the little bit of sheet he had managed to grab, covering himself as best he could. He felt like a jackass, standing in the middle of the room with the corner of a sheet barely covering him and he waved a hand at her. "Don't look at me like I did anything wrong here, sweetheart."
"Sweetheart?" she mocked angrily, tugging on the sheet with that same crazy strength and Dean gaped as the sheet slipped through his fingers and he scrambled for his pillow. She was glaring at him and Dean returned the favor. "Why don't you start by explaining who you are and why you are in my room?"
"Okay, hey, let's calm down, shall we?" Dean said, holding a hand up in supplication as the other pressed his pillow against himself.
"Calm down?" she spat, rolling off the bed and wrapping the sheet tighter against her body. "I just woke up to you molesting me!"
"What?" Dean asked incredulously. He waved at the bed. "I sure as hell was not the only one doing anything!"
She opened her mouth to respond before snapping it closed. She looked at the bed, her face quizzical and Dean cocked his head as he watched her put two and two together. He nodded his head when she suddenly looked at him in surprise.
"Oh, my god," she said, "We slept together."
"Yeah." He gave her a plaintive smile. "It happens."
"Oh, my god," she said to herself, running a hand through her hair. "Oh, my god, I slept with some random guy… In Las Vegas… Oh, god."
"Whoa, calm down, there," Dean said. When she looked at him, he smiled. "It can't be that bad."
"That bad?" she squeaked before turning around and pacing away from him. Dean watched her, his face unsure as she suddenly whipped around. "What happened last night?"
Dean shrugged. "Beats me," he said as he leaned down to grab his boxers where they laid next to the bed. He picked them up, holding them as he watched his mystery woman pace around the suite, talking to herself and making her already bedridden hair even more tangled. And sexy. Damn sexy. Damn, this woman had hot written all over her, even when she looked like she was about to melt into a puddle of stress. Dean shook his head before quickly dropping the pillow and shimmying into the boxers. He took a deep breath, holding his hands up to once again try to calm her down when he caught a glint.
A glint. On his left hand. Dean looked down, not even thinking about it, when he saw a ring on his finger. Not even his finger, but the finger.
"Oh, shit," he said softly, bringing his left hand up to face level, his hand with the cheap, gold ring on his ring finger. He felt his chest suddenly bottom out, his heart drop to the floor with a loud, angry, wet smack. "Oh, hell no."
"Oh, my god, I'm going to kill her, I'm going to kill Faith and then I'm going to kill Giles and then I'm going to kill what's-her-face when we find her and then I'm going to just kill something that just needs killing," he heard her mumbling to herself as Dean, his mouth hanging open, turned to look at her.
"Uh…" he started but she interrupted him, waving a hand at his face, the universal sign of Shut Up. She waved her left hand and he caught the same glint and he just blinked at her.
She suddenly turned and glared at him. "And you! You just… you just walk around like some hot guy thinking you can just… just sleep with me!" she said, her words running together before she noticed he was just staring at her, his hand hovering in front of his face. Dean watched her stop, frowning when she saw his hand. And then she paled. Even more pale than she already was. Her eyes widened, her lips going slack as she lifted her own left hand up and saw a matching gold ring on it.
She let out a little stressed sound and Dean saw her hand shaking before she whispered, "Oh, no…"
The End
