The second bottle of wine was Erik's idea. The third was Karim's. It is fair to say that neither of them were thinking clearly at the time. It is equally fair to say that Erik drank the majority of all three bottles. It is a mess of his own devising, and yet he still lies in bed moaning, a pillow over his face to blot out any glimmer of light that might attempt to attack him.

Karim might almost feel sympathetic, if the agony was not mostly self-inflicted.

He, too, is suffering, though not to the same dreadful extent. Unlike Erik, he at least managed to keep his tea down. The thought of anything food-related, however, was more than his poor stomach could bear, and he draws the bedsheets up tighter around him, buries his head in Erik's shoulder. There had been dinner, and music, and almost-endless quantities of wine. And sloppy kissing, that left the corner of his mouth stained purple from the wine until he washed it off. He is positive there are bruises on his thighs. There are definitely bruises on Erik's hips in the shape of his hands, the deep imprint of a thumb where each hip meets thigh. And wine-stain kiss marks down his stomach, over each scar, a webbing of them around his navel.

It was a night of wild debauchery, of loving with abandon.

They are not young men anymore, and their aching heads and muscles are testament to that.

"If I die, I'm never talking to you again." Erik's voice is rough, muffled with the pillow, and in spite of the pounding in his head, Karim smiles into his shoulder.

"Fair enough. I don't think I can bear to say two words to you again anyway."

A huff that might almost be a laugh, and then a groan when that only aggravates Erik's pain.

Karim kisses his shoulder, and wraps his arm tighter around his waist. "Just try to sleep," he murmurs. "Sleepwill…will blot it all away."


A/N: Up next - Kay!verse Christine holding Erik on his deathbed