When I regain consciousness, I find myself lying in bed with my shirt and shoes off. Also, said consciousness decides to bring some buddies with it: headache and stomach pain. However, I quickly stifle myself from emitting a groan of discomfort as, over the music emitted from my player, muffled voices can be heard outside the curtains. Due to my state of being, it takes me a while to get my bearings straight until I realize that the voices belong to Dio and an unfamiliar female. Though it's a bit strange they are talking this early at around 0230.
That's when everything from earlier comes back to me: Dio's birthday, his absolute failure at getting a date, the little confrontation and the fact my roommate is actually capable of growing a backbone, and a schmammered me being carried away from Elysium. Oh and the fact that he now has this girl he's talking to.
Ah, so I guess you aren't so hopeless after all, kid. Beating up somebody must heighten the sex appeal. When in doubt, physical violence against similarly-or-larger-sized potential competitors is a sign of virility and health among many species when courting; considering the intelligence level of most of Tartarus' patrons, that element of Courtship 101 is probably right up their alley.
Still, there's something gratingly familiar about the owner of that sultry voice. However, the residual fog is preventing my mind from figuring anything out, and it's not I'm going to suddenly poke my head out of the curtains to introduce myself. This is the birthday boy's night — technically morning — so interrupting it is not an option.
Besides, I may possibly get some juicy info about either person from this conversation.
No, I don't have any shame.
Unfortunately, the majority of the conversation must have taken place while I was out as, right when I banish just enough of the haze from my mind to follow what's being said, I hear the following words:
"Well, this is fun. But I take it that talking's not all you want."
Dio's gulp in response is actually audible from here, and when he finally finds his voice, this comes out: "N-no—I mean yes! I mean whateveryoulike! Justtalking'sfinewhywouldyouthinkotherwise? Idon'twantotimposeoranything. I…"
I have to suppress the urge to facepalm in frustration at the kid's complete failure to articulate. Even a guy like me can tell what this girl would like right now; she wants the D… o.
Fortunately, my roommate's silenced as his awkward rambling's smothered and replaced with a slight muffled moan. It takes me a while to register that said smothering is due to a kiss. The kid's actually getting kissed!
After the kiss ends, the only thing I hear from Dio is a small, "Huh…"
The girl's voice is tinged with amusement when she purrs, "My, my, my… you are an innocent one. How about I do the piloting from here? You just follow my directions, and I'll make it worth your while."
"O-okay…"
Well, at least he found someone cooperative. In which case, I guess I can just go back to sleep and let the kid have his fu— oh…
Oh… fuck.
Suddenly, the full realization of where they are, where I am, and the fact that this is a one-room dorm, hits me like a train at full speed. Actually, compared to this, I'd probably prefer the train.
Yes, the goal of this night was to get the kid laid. However, I assumed that he'd either go to the girl's house or I'd just wait in the common room till they got done with the coitus. I wasn't planning on being the third party to this pseudo-mating ritual. Still, despite my better judgment, the fact that I made that stupid promise keeps me from telling the couple to get another room and possibly killing the mood for them.
Granted, right now, they are just kissing and things aren't that serious yet… I think. It's very high-intensity kissing from the sounds of it. Then there is some moaning at random intervals intermixed with directions to—whoah! Okay then, so not just kissing… but still probably not coitus in itself. Maybe they'll just end it right here; after all, it's already pretty la—
That's when I hear the very suspicious sound of a belt being unfastened and jeans being unzipped.
Fortunately, Dio, who sounds like he just resurfaced after being underwater for a while, has the sense to stop and ask, "Wait, what about Ned?"
I can hear a bit of frustration from the girl. "What about him?"
"Aren't you concerned that he's in the same room as us? Also, he probably wouldn't be very comfortable with something like this happening next to him." No, he wouldn't.
"If your roommate was awake and uncomfortable, he probably would have stopped us by now. And if he's awake and doesn't mind… well, I have nothing to hide." Why you little…
"That makes sense." Shit.
"I knew you'd agree. Now," — her voice drops a couple octaves — "if you're ready for this next part—"
"Wait!"
"Now what?" This time, she's not bothering hiding her frustration.
"We shouldn't do it here on the couch. Ned would kill me if we did it on someplace he sits on." In all reality, I wouldn't kill the kid; I just wouldn't sit on the couch anymore unless we got new upholstery after burning the old one. Still, I have a healthy dose of appreciation for him having that kind of foresight and thoughtfulness.
Except…
"Well do you have a better place?"
Oh no…
"You mind getting in bed? I'll help you up."
No. No. Nonononono…
"I thought you'd never ask. Let's get you out of this first."
NOOO!
This time, as they get off the couch, it's clear that the two are removing all their clothes and simply dropping them to the ground. I use that time to look for my headphones till I realize that I keep them on my desk… which is outside. Dammit… So I instead opt to carefully raise the volume in increments under the hope that the music will drown the… stuff out. Even though I know that it won't.
"So what do you think?" This time, the note of amusement and no small amount of sensuality is back in the girl's speech.
"I uh… um… I… you're very pretty…" Despite the escalating levels of FUBAR in this unfolding situation, I can't help but chalk the kid's statement down as another facepalm-worthy moment.
Either way, it elicits a small giggle. "Thanks. Now let me get a good look at you…" Judging from the small whimper Dio makes, the girl's observation is not eyes-only. It doesn't help that it's obvious that they're now standing right next to my bed and brushing up against the curtains; I'm definitely going to be sending those to be cleaned later today. When the girl speaks again, her low tones are almost inaudible. "You're not so bad yourself."
"Lemme… lemme get something first," Dio stammers as the sound of rummaging through clothes is heard.
"By all means… take your sweet time." For whatever reason, she's sounding very appreciative. When the sound of rummaging ceases, she adds, "Oh, and thoughtful as well."
"I was told that I should always have one of these on hand."
"Do you know how to put it on?"
"Uh… sort of?"
"Don't worry. I'll help you. Now—EEE!" Whatever she was going to say next is replaced with a squeal and giggle of surprise that now emanates from the creaking mattress above me. Right as a secondary heftier weight settles onto the bed, the girl states, "Looks like those muscles of yours aren't just for show. Now let's see what else you can do with them."
To my increasing mortification, the very… wet sound of the making-out actually intensifies even more than what I heard from the couch; probably for about a couple. Then, after Dio's asked if he's ready and he stammers in the affirmative, I hear a small packet being ripped open.
And that's when the horror truly begins.
I don't know what's worse: the way the entire bunk would shake and creak at either an almost-metronomic or extremely erratic rhythm, the very… detailed instructions from the girl, the constant stream of apologies from the kid, or the… noises being emanated by both of them. I swear that it's as if the girl's ovaries are having an atomic reaction that could power all of Panem; at this point, I don't think there's anyone on this floor that's not aware that coitus is ensuing right now.
And the only thing I can do wrap a pillow around my head and chomp down on my blanket while silently cursing the day I thought of getting the kid laid, as well as the day I chose to be on the bottom bunk. Seriously, almost ten minutes have passed and they're still at this? As the pace — not to mention the accompanying noises — gets even more frantic, I curl up into a ball, squeeze my eyes shut, and attempt to banish everything away with my mind.
Make it stop. Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!
Why I don't scream it out-loud, I have no clue. I'm honestly surprised I've retained this amount of self control.
Mercifully, however, the rocking of the bunk slows to a stop, and soon the only thing I hear is exhausted panting.
Is… is it over?
The girl recovers first. "Well, that was fun." From the way she speaks, it's almost as if she wasn't doing anything strenuous just a minute earlier.
"You're leaving already?" To his credit, while the fatigue's definitely there, Dio seems to be holding up on his own as well.
"I have things to do tomorrow—well, today. So I need to get home soon anyways." By now, she's already off the bunk and picking her stuff up to get at least somewhat dressed. "But, like I said, it was fun. You're a fast learner."
"Thanks. So… would you like to meet up again sometime?" The hesitant hopefulness in his voice is almost pitiful. "Dinner or something?"
"Of course, that's what I told you in the very beginning didn't I? Let contact info right here, okay?" As the door opens, she adds, "See you later."
"Goodnight."
After waiting for a minute or two after the door shuts, I decide to make myself heard: "So… did you enjoy yourself?"
The kid's yelp of surprise and dismay almost makes up for the past half-hour of sheer agony he put me through. "Ned! I didn't know you were awake. When—"
"I woke up right before it was apparently decided that talking ain't the only thing you'd to be doing."
"Oh… so…" — the fear and embarrassment in his voice is palpable to my increasing amusement; at least I'd be amused if I weren't feeling so cranky right now — "y-you heard—"
"—everything. I. Heard. And felt. Everything."
"… Ned, I sor—"
"Don't."
"Why—"
"I told you in the beginning that the goal was to get you laid. Again, I'm a man of my word. Otherwise, I would have stopped you then and there. But I didn't. And it was my own damn fault for getting so wasted that I passed out; by the way, I appreciate you carrying me back here.
"Thus, you have nothing to be… sorry for." Also, due to the recent frequency of its use, all that word does when uttered by him is get my mind going into the worst kind of tangent; all I want to do right now is minimize the playing of such imagery in any way possible. "In fact, I'm issuing a one-week moratorium on you saying the word 'sorry'. You think you can do that?"
"Okay…" After another minute he adds, with a significant amount of seriousness, "Thanks for all of this, by the way."
"Eh, think nothing of it. Also, you win."
"Huh?"
"You win. I concede defeat. Tracker jacker simulations ain't nothing compared to what you just subjected me through, and I don't want to even comprehend a way to top that."
"Oh, well thanks for that as well. I guess that being a birthday boy mean that I'm just on a roll right now." With just that last sentence, and despite the obvious fact that he's about ready to pass out any moment now, the kid seems to regain all the cheer he had lost recently. And because of that, I can't help but look forward to him returning to his previous upbeat self.
Still, since there's an image I need to maintain, I grumble, "I hate you."
This time there isn't even a millisecond of hesitation when, with a voice languid with sleepiness, he murmurs, "No you don't…"
As his breathing evens out, I mull the events of this past week. Finally, sleep begins to overtake me, but not before I sigh and mutter a small response of my own:
"No I don't."
A/N: This chapter may or may not have been influenced by events relating to personal experience.