Wendell hated himself the next morning when he woke up. His brain was pounding against his skull and he wished he could stab all the assholes honking their horns outside his window. He wasn't sure if his stomach was going to hold its contents for much longer. Wendell rolled over, lolling his head over the edge of his small bed and reproducing the alcohol from the night before into a trash can. At the moment he didn't care how it got there but calling into the Jerffersonion and telling Cam he was sick. He reached blindly on the nightstand for his cellphone. It took a few minutes of head pounding ringing before his boss finally picked up and he mumbled out an excuse. Wendell shut the phone and dropped it on the wooden stand, returning to where he was when he woke up, wrapping his arms around the warm body next to him. He fell asleep again with his head buried in a sweet smelling neck.
He wasn't quite sure what time it was when he woke up the second time that day but he could tell whoever had been in bed with him was no longer there. Images from the night before started slowly returning to him and he mentally cussed. Wendell raised the sheets to make sure he still had boxers. He sighed in relief when he saw he still had the pair of semi-clean boxers on that he'd put on the morning before; so he probably didn't sleep with the minor. The smell of food wafted through the small apartment and Wendell's empty stomach urged him to roll out of bed to investigate.
Remembering the trash can filled with his puke he used the oppisite side in which Okwaho had been sleeping on prior. His bedroom was littered with clothes, his and the younger man's. He picked up an undershirt he was pretty sure belonged to him, and proceded into his kitchen, where a sexy, shirtless seventeen year old was making him breakfast, or lunch since it was around one in the afternoon. The Native American bit into a strip of bacon, his wet hair dripping down his face. God, this kid was going to be the death him if they ever pursued a relationship. "Morning Sleeping Beauty, finally puked up the last of your alcohol?" Okwaho asked jokingly as he handed Wendell a plate of bacon, pancakes, and hash browns. "You're welcome, and don't protest because I will throw burning bacon grease on your face. Trust me, I've done it to my friends before." Wendell sat down at the old wooden table, biting into the bacon, which tasted like steak. "How long have you been up?" He asked between bites.
Okwaho looked at the clock, pulling down the baggy black and gray boxers that kept riding up his thighs. "About an hour and thirty minutes. Fifteen of those were spent trying to escape your death grip. Dude, you need to work on not choking the people who sleep in the same bed with you to death. I'm an expert on people who look weaker than they really are but you are rediculious," he told his host as he sat down with his own plate of bacon and pancakes. "Sorry but I enjoy living." Wendell smirked as he scanned over the expanse of naked, inked skin.
It was amasing how much money this kid must have if he had that many tattoos. Which reminded him, "I'll pay you back for everything, I swear."
Okwaho shook his head, "It's fine dude, letting me sleep here is enough, don't need to get yourself into more debt then it looks like you're already in." Wendell opened his mouth to protest and received a death glare that would stop Batman in his tracks. "Don't try and fight me on this; I don't need the money Wendell, anyways I prefer not to feel like a Hooker."
Wendell made an attempt to muffle his laugh, "Not like I have anything to pay you for."
"Except the food, alcohol, making sure your ass didn't get killed, oh and the fact you striped me down to my boxers, so the show," Okwaho retorted through a mouthful of bacon and chocolate syurp. Wendell blanced at his words. "Don't worry there was nothing more than kissing, though I think you left some brusies on my hips. Maybe a hicky or two." Okwaho started choking on his breakfast while laughing at Wendell who was five shades paler than normal. Once the Mohawk Indian swallowed his food down the right pipe he reasured the twenty-one year old, "Just kidding. I only have the brusies from when you gripped my hips too hard."
Wendell's American Foxhound was rubbing up against Okwaho, who fed him a few strips of bacon. "I kinda pictured you as the person with a smaller dog. Or a German Sheppard."
"He was a stray; I'm a sucker for canines. I took him in," Wendell replied. Okwaho smirked happily at that comment. He looked over at Okwaho intensely, remembering their conversation last night. "Why did you want to know about the case I'm working on?" Okwaho wasn't looking at Wendell directly while chewing his pancakes. The intern tried to remember Allison's two kids names, since they were pretty uniquie. Realisation dawned on him as he covered his face with his hand and sighed, "You're Allison's son aren't you?" He noticed the tiny nod from the Native American. "And I suppose you're a suspect."
Okwaho shook his head, swallowing before replying, "Not me; my twin though might be; right now Agent Booth's calling our 'uncle' back in Illinois, maybe a few of our friends and her boyfriend, to get an alibi. I pretty much already cleared her since we have absolutely no money to get plane tickets and Wayha is terrified of flying; both of us are really. Flying out here was hell. Guy that was stuck next to Wahya has nail marks in his arms." The young male stared at his hands for a while, the slience creeping . "She hit us; well she hit me, I wouldn't let her touch Wayha. It wasn't a commen thing, but whenever she was really drunk she'd take out all the shit on me. Both of us didn't care when she left for her job for weeks on end. Actually, we couldn't wait for it." He looked up, brown eyes not settling on one spot for more than an instant. "Mind if I borrow your phone? Mines back at the hotel and Ang must be worried about me."
Wendell nodded, "It's on the nightstand." Okwaho got up and disappeared into the appartment. Wendell would have to keep that in mind.
"Thank gods, where are you Okwaho?" Angeni sighed in relief when he said hi.
Okwaho looked over at the door, "One of the investigator's apartment. His name's Wendell Bray. Why? Are you ok Ang?"
"Yeah, just this guy tried to attack me last night, I'm okay, dislocated his shoulder and jacked his knife. I tried calling you, but you left your phone here," she replied.
The Native American wished he was at the hotel room now. "I'm coming back, stay there and don't open the door until I get there," he hissed, grabbing his cargo shorts and starting to pull them on.
"No, you stay there, enjoy your time with whoever it is. You need to get laid. I'll be fine, just stay where you are, probably safer there," Angeni told him. "I'll kill you if you show up here now. Just stay there."
"Okay, call me later, see ya tomorrow," he replied, ending the call before she could continue to talk. He pulled the camo shorts the rest of the way up his legs, buttoning them before going back out into the kitchen. "Mind if I stay here tonight and you give me a ride home tomorrow?"
"Sure Okwaho," Wendell replied, looking at the younger male. Yeah, this kid was gonna be the death of him.