This chapter was inspired by the song 'Last Night' by Good Charlotte. It was requested by an anonymous user on Tumblr.
Last Night
Matthew blinked, holding his hand up and tracing the bruises twisting up his arms. He was wearing someone else's oversized tee shirt and nothing else. He raised one of his legs and followed the line of bruises and marks up and up and…
He sat up.
Where was he? What happened?
The sofa was puckered and torn and hopelessly outdated in orange and olive tartan. He reached out for his eyeglasses and found a note instead. He squinted at it, shifting the note in and out of focus with shaking hands.
It said 'thanks' in scrunched, hurried cursive.
Ah. Okay, a one night stand, then…
He frowned.
That did not sound like him at all…
He swung his legs over the end of the sofa and startled when he stepped in a slick, smooth mess. His eyeglasses crashed down onto his nose and he flinched as the world snapped into focus.
He must have pushed them up onto his forehead. That was not like him either…
He looked down. His foot squelched in a pile of four or five used condoms. He blanched.
"Oh, fuck," he moaned. His temples pulsed and ached. What the hell?
He looked around for his clothes. He found a single sock and nothing else. He growled, casting about the sofa for his mobile or wallet or car keys. Nothing.
Great. That was just great.
He clutched his temples and rocked forward, ignoring the mess under his feet. What the hell had happened? What had been so damned special about this stranger that he decided to throw caution to the wind and follow them… Home? Was this home?
He worried his swollen lips.
Why could he not remember anything? It must have been some fucking party….
Actually, no, that was a lie. He remembered broad hands dancing over his hipbones and a low, rasping voice. He remembered a deep, masculine laugh… But that was it.
Well, that and the butterflies in his stomach. He must have really, really liked him…
His eyes landed on a miniscule flashing alert and he all but lunged across the room. His fingers closed around, yes, his mobile. A little worse for wear, maybe, but it was definitely his mobile.
He clutched it against his chest, bare knees pressed into the carpet, and almost sobbed in relief. He could call his brother. Alfred would never let him live it down but at least he would pick him up.
He flicked it open and stared. Someone had changed his wallpaper.
It was a picture of him, obviously sloshed, and a pale, pale, pale man. His striking eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed, one arm thrown around Matthew and the other hand holding this mobile. Matthew was curled in his lap with a ridiculous smile on his face. He looked ecstatic.
Matthew flushed. Oh, wow…
He jumped as his mobile lit up again with an incoming text message. He opened it.
HEY, BIRDIE.
WENT TO THE STORE. TOOK YOUR CAR.
BE BACK SOON WITH EGGS. DON'T FREAK OUT, 'KAY?
- GILBERT
Birdie? That was a new one.
He opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times. Huh. So perhaps it had not been a one night stand… He just wished that he could remember it… Maybe Gilbert could enlighten him when he came back.
And maybe he could enlighten him, in italics. Matthew had obviously enjoyed himself, if the low ache and used condoms were anything to go by… And it was not like he had anywhere else to be.
Matthew smirked, straightening the collar of his borrowed tee shirt and settling back on his calves. He could wait…
Author's Notes:
Please remember to use a condom (or five), even if you do not remember anything else. Otherwise you'll make me very, very sad.
This one is short and somewhat similar to chapter twenty nine, but focuses entirely on his reaction to the situation without dialogue or interaction with outside characters. Also, Gilbert, you'll have to explain where his newest nickname came from. What happened last night? (Finally, the reeeal story behind the nickname 'Birdie'. No one in the fandom can agree, so it's all on you, sweetheart.)