One-shot - Hangover
Title: Hangover
Pairing: Masuda/Tegoshi
Rating: PG-15
Words: ~2,000
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Of course, when I go to write a Valentine's Day fic, it ends up stupid instead of sappy. I'm sorry. Also, I'm running out of ways to say how awesome my beta is without sounding like a fangirl.
Summary: AU. The girl that Massu brings home from the club turns out to be less of a girl than he'd originally thought.
Masuda’s eyes fluttered open. He felt nauseous, and the moment the morning sunlight hit his eyes, his head started to pound like someone had just smacked him in the face with a baseball bat.
For a moment he wondered if he had a migraine, but that didn’t seem right; he hadn’t had one since he was a teenager, and he saw no reason for them to start again five years later.
As he lay there, trying to convince himself to get out of bed to find the aspirin, little details began to filter back to him.
Today, he remembered, was Valentine’s Day. The first Valentine’s Day he’d been expecting to spend alone in the last three years.
That’s right. Masuda heaved a heavy sigh, then wished he hadn’t, because apparently even breathing aggravated the pangs in his head.
How much had he drunk last night? He knew he couldn’t handle his alcohol, that’s why he usually didn’t have more than a couple of beers over a meal with friends. But Koyama had insisted on taking him out.
“We’ll have a bachelor’s night,” Koyama had said, “and prove that we can still have fun on Valentine’s, even if we’re single.”
If Masuda was more of a spiteful person, he’d ring Koyama later and tell him that not only was he in great amounts of pain, but he was now having less fun on Valentine’s Day than if he’d spent last night moping at home.
So what, he wondered, had happened yesterday? Not that it was particularly important, but Masuda was a rather organized person, and he liked everything to be arranged properly. That included his thoughts too; the idea that chunks of his memory were missing or out of order was even more unsettling than that time he’d realized he was missing a book in the middle of a series from his shelf.
He could remember taking the train with Koyama and arriving at a club… remembered drinking and dancing and drinking some more… then some more…
Ah, now he remembered. There’d been a girl. A cute girl, with pretty, pink lips that had curled into a sweet, flirtatious smile; warm, dark brown eyes that had shone in the strobe lights and completely captivated Masuda. That was right. A beautiful girl with short, brown hair that had feathered around her chin, and usually Masuda preferred his girls with long hair, but god, she’d been so pretty…
He wondered if he’d gotten her number. It’d been two months since his girlfriend of over three years had left him, and he knew it was high time to stop pining over her and move on.
He thought a bit harder, ignoring the throbbing in his skull, trying to remember if he’d been smart and asked her, because he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember her name.
They’d danced together, and he’d bought drinks for both of them… Koyama had disappeared somewhere, and Masuda realized belatedly that he should probably check if he was okay as soon as he got that aspirin.
He remembered how the girl had melted against him on the dance floor, and usually Masuda hated people intruding into his personal space, but he’d pulled her closer until their bodies were crushed together, and her lips had been at his ear, whispering, “Take me home with you.”
Masuda felt his face flush. Had he taken her home with him? That just wasn’t the kind of thing he did. He didn’t meet girls at clubs, he met them at school or work or at the park… he’d met his last girlfriend at the supermarket, for crying out loud.
With a bit of effort and a lot of protest from his stomach and head, Masuda rolled over and sniffed his pillows. Yes, he could definitely smell the scent of a rather spicy perfume that he certainly didn’t own himself. He must have brought her home with him after all. Masuda wondered if she was still here.
Well, that wouldn’t be so terrible, he told himself. After all, if she was, maybe more could come of it. He could ask her name and number, apologize for what he felt was an admittedly awkward way to have gotten to know one another, and start over. He’d explain that he wasn’t usually like that, that he was really a gentle, respectable, easy-going sort of guy (as long as you didn’t mess up his personal belongings), definitely not the kind who went around having one night stands with girls he found in clubs. Perhaps he could make something of this.
He wondered if she’d be offended that he didn’t remember what her name was. He thought a little harder, really straining himself, but all he could recall was ordering a couple more drinks for both of them - “one for the road” - and catching a taxi back to his place. He felt himself flush a little hotter, remembering the way she’d been all over him as he tried to unlock the door to the apartment, and what he was pretty sure had been a really, really fantastic blowjob the moment they were both inside. After that, everything was completely blank.
He heard a sound from the lounge, what sounded like shuffling footsteps, and bit his lip. It was okay, he told himself. All he needed to do was get up, ignore the pain in his head and the lurching of his stomach, and greet her properly - preferably with more clothes on though, he realized. There was nothing to be worried about. After all, if she’d come home with him in the first place, she couldn’t have found him totally objectionable. He just needed to smile at her and let his dimples do all the winning over that his lack of quick wit couldn’t.
The sound of footsteps started getting closer, and Masuda held his breath, heart doubling speed. He momentarily forgot his hangover as the door opened… to reveal the very naked, very male ‘girl’ from the night before.
“Good morning,” he said, in an upbeat, chirpy voice that immediately told Masuda that he wasn’t feeling the same ill effects from last night’s alcohol. “Good to see you’re finally awake. I was getting hungry.”
Masuda gaped. “Penis,” was his astute observation.
To his credit, the boy didn’t look too taken aback by Masuda’s odd choice of reply, just pleasantly puzzled.
“Pardon me?” He asked, quite composed for someone who was walking around an almost-stranger’s house with absolutely no clothes on.
“You… you have a penis,” Masuda said, feeling a little numb.
The boy burst into laughter, chest shaking slightly from the force of it, until he succeeded in regaining control of himself.
“Yes I do,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I think that was confirmed after the thorough inspection you gave it last night.”
Once again, the boy didn’t seem bothered by the look of horror that crossed Masuda’s face, or the way his mouth dropped open.
“Why?” He asked, both looking and sounding completely lost. “Why do you have one?”
“Because I’m male?” The boy replied, and Masuda made frantic motions with his hands, as though trying to express all the horror he couldn’t quite put into words.
“But why are you male? You weren’t male last night!” He said, beginning to sound rather desperate.
The boy was finally starting to look a little confused, and when he answered, he spoke very slowly, as though he thought that Masuda was a little bit stupid.
“No, as far as I know, I was a male last night too,” he explained. “I’ve always been male. Just how drunk were you yesterday anyway?”
Masuda kind of wanted to cry. Apparently, drunk enough to pick up a man thinking he was a women, and then have sex with him even once he’d known differently.
“I’m straight,” he said miserably, almost to himself. His misery immediately turned to offense when the boy started to laugh again.
“I’m sorry, but after last night, I find it really hard to believe that you’re straight. You were enjoying yourself way too much, Massu.”
“Massu?” Masuda repeated incredulously. Not only did this guy have no tact, but now he was also giving him weird nicknames as well?
“Wow, you really were drunk,” the boy said, as though forgetting the nickname he’d given him was more understandable than mistaking him for a girl for half the night. “It’s cute, right? Massu. You’ve probably forgotten my name as well, haven’t you? I’m Tegoshi. Tegoshi Yuya.”
“Tegoshi…” Masuda repeated robotically. “I’m sorry but… I’m just really not into guys.”
“Your body seems to think differently,” Tegoshi pointed out, and Masuda felt the tips of his ears grow warm.
“I was drunk!” He said defensively, trying to get over how ridiculous it was that he was arguing his sexuality with a naked boy he’d known for all of 12 hours.
A naked boy he’d had sex with, he realized with a dull feeling of horror.
“Excessive alcohol intake can lead to erectile dysfunction,” Tegoshi answered calmly, like this was an everyday normal conversation. “And given that you probably drank enough to drown in and still managed to get it up last night implies that you were at least a little attracted to me, despite my penis… Maybe even because of it.”
Masuda cringed at the word (and the implications of what he’d done with it), but couldn’t find a way to defeat Tegoshi’s logic. He decided to blame it on the hangover for making thinking more difficult than it usually was.
“But I only like girl parts,” He said, the argument sounding feeble, even to his own ears. Especially now that he was maybe, sort of surreptitiously checking out Tegoshi’s body - it was right there in front of him and difficult to miss, it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to do it - and maybe, kind of finding him a little bit hot.
“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Tegoshi said patiently, as though he was explaining this to a particularly thick toddler. “You can like girl parts and still appreciate me. It’s not impossible.”
Masuda wanted to say that it was in his world - his poor little neatly organized world that was currently being messed up before his very eyes - but what came out instead was, “But I can’t appreciate you.”
Tegoshi chuckled good-naturedly, in a way that seemed at odds with the sly gleam in his eyes.
“Now that’s definitely impossible. You have a bad case of self-denial,” he said, probably not meaning for it to sound quite as arrogant as it did. And with that he climbed onto the bed and crawled over to Masuda. Masuda looked at him with, wide worried eyes as Tegoshi leaned in, lips ghosting against the ridges of his ear. “Let me show you just how much you can appreciate me.”
Masuda shivered. It probably would’ve been wiser to say something like ‘stop’ or ‘no’, but curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, “How did I possibly manage to mistake your voice for a girl’s voice?”
Tegoshi laughed into his ear, sending tingles down Masuda’s spine.
“It was loud in the club. We did more talking through our hands than our mouths. Until we got home,” he answered, as his hand casually disappeared under the covers before travelling down Masuda’s body.
Masuda bit back a moan, trying very hard not to appreciate anything that was being done to him, but when Tegoshi’s hand started to move, he let his head fall back against the pillow, grudgingly giving in.
What the heck, he thought; it wasn’t all bad. His hangover had mysteriously disappeared (he had a suspicion as to why - a suspicion that was currently groping him under his blankets), and at least he wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s Day alone anymore. And besides, he had all of tomorrow to get his world back into order.
Pairing: Masuda/Tegoshi
Rating: PG-15
Words: ~2,000
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Of course, when I go to write a Valentine's Day fic, it ends up stupid instead of sappy. I'm sorry. Also, I'm running out of ways to say how awesome my beta is without sounding like a fangirl.
Summary: AU. The girl that Massu brings home from the club turns out to be less of a girl than he'd originally thought.
Masuda’s eyes fluttered open. He felt nauseous, and the moment the morning sunlight hit his eyes, his head started to pound like someone had just smacked him in the face with a baseball bat.
For a moment he wondered if he had a migraine, but that didn’t seem right; he hadn’t had one since he was a teenager, and he saw no reason for them to start again five years later.
As he lay there, trying to convince himself to get out of bed to find the aspirin, little details began to filter back to him.
Today, he remembered, was Valentine’s Day. The first Valentine’s Day he’d been expecting to spend alone in the last three years.
That’s right. Masuda heaved a heavy sigh, then wished he hadn’t, because apparently even breathing aggravated the pangs in his head.
How much had he drunk last night? He knew he couldn’t handle his alcohol, that’s why he usually didn’t have more than a couple of beers over a meal with friends. But Koyama had insisted on taking him out.
“We’ll have a bachelor’s night,” Koyama had said, “and prove that we can still have fun on Valentine’s, even if we’re single.”
If Masuda was more of a spiteful person, he’d ring Koyama later and tell him that not only was he in great amounts of pain, but he was now having less fun on Valentine’s Day than if he’d spent last night moping at home.
So what, he wondered, had happened yesterday? Not that it was particularly important, but Masuda was a rather organized person, and he liked everything to be arranged properly. That included his thoughts too; the idea that chunks of his memory were missing or out of order was even more unsettling than that time he’d realized he was missing a book in the middle of a series from his shelf.
He could remember taking the train with Koyama and arriving at a club… remembered drinking and dancing and drinking some more… then some more…
Ah, now he remembered. There’d been a girl. A cute girl, with pretty, pink lips that had curled into a sweet, flirtatious smile; warm, dark brown eyes that had shone in the strobe lights and completely captivated Masuda. That was right. A beautiful girl with short, brown hair that had feathered around her chin, and usually Masuda preferred his girls with long hair, but god, she’d been so pretty…
He wondered if he’d gotten her number. It’d been two months since his girlfriend of over three years had left him, and he knew it was high time to stop pining over her and move on.
He thought a bit harder, ignoring the throbbing in his skull, trying to remember if he’d been smart and asked her, because he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember her name.
They’d danced together, and he’d bought drinks for both of them… Koyama had disappeared somewhere, and Masuda realized belatedly that he should probably check if he was okay as soon as he got that aspirin.
He remembered how the girl had melted against him on the dance floor, and usually Masuda hated people intruding into his personal space, but he’d pulled her closer until their bodies were crushed together, and her lips had been at his ear, whispering, “Take me home with you.”
Masuda felt his face flush. Had he taken her home with him? That just wasn’t the kind of thing he did. He didn’t meet girls at clubs, he met them at school or work or at the park… he’d met his last girlfriend at the supermarket, for crying out loud.
With a bit of effort and a lot of protest from his stomach and head, Masuda rolled over and sniffed his pillows. Yes, he could definitely smell the scent of a rather spicy perfume that he certainly didn’t own himself. He must have brought her home with him after all. Masuda wondered if she was still here.
Well, that wouldn’t be so terrible, he told himself. After all, if she was, maybe more could come of it. He could ask her name and number, apologize for what he felt was an admittedly awkward way to have gotten to know one another, and start over. He’d explain that he wasn’t usually like that, that he was really a gentle, respectable, easy-going sort of guy (as long as you didn’t mess up his personal belongings), definitely not the kind who went around having one night stands with girls he found in clubs. Perhaps he could make something of this.
He wondered if she’d be offended that he didn’t remember what her name was. He thought a little harder, really straining himself, but all he could recall was ordering a couple more drinks for both of them - “one for the road” - and catching a taxi back to his place. He felt himself flush a little hotter, remembering the way she’d been all over him as he tried to unlock the door to the apartment, and what he was pretty sure had been a really, really fantastic blowjob the moment they were both inside. After that, everything was completely blank.
He heard a sound from the lounge, what sounded like shuffling footsteps, and bit his lip. It was okay, he told himself. All he needed to do was get up, ignore the pain in his head and the lurching of his stomach, and greet her properly - preferably with more clothes on though, he realized. There was nothing to be worried about. After all, if she’d come home with him in the first place, she couldn’t have found him totally objectionable. He just needed to smile at her and let his dimples do all the winning over that his lack of quick wit couldn’t.
The sound of footsteps started getting closer, and Masuda held his breath, heart doubling speed. He momentarily forgot his hangover as the door opened… to reveal the very naked, very male ‘girl’ from the night before.
“Good morning,” he said, in an upbeat, chirpy voice that immediately told Masuda that he wasn’t feeling the same ill effects from last night’s alcohol. “Good to see you’re finally awake. I was getting hungry.”
Masuda gaped. “Penis,” was his astute observation.
To his credit, the boy didn’t look too taken aback by Masuda’s odd choice of reply, just pleasantly puzzled.
“Pardon me?” He asked, quite composed for someone who was walking around an almost-stranger’s house with absolutely no clothes on.
“You… you have a penis,” Masuda said, feeling a little numb.
The boy burst into laughter, chest shaking slightly from the force of it, until he succeeded in regaining control of himself.
“Yes I do,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I think that was confirmed after the thorough inspection you gave it last night.”
Once again, the boy didn’t seem bothered by the look of horror that crossed Masuda’s face, or the way his mouth dropped open.
“Why?” He asked, both looking and sounding completely lost. “Why do you have one?”
“Because I’m male?” The boy replied, and Masuda made frantic motions with his hands, as though trying to express all the horror he couldn’t quite put into words.
“But why are you male? You weren’t male last night!” He said, beginning to sound rather desperate.
The boy was finally starting to look a little confused, and when he answered, he spoke very slowly, as though he thought that Masuda was a little bit stupid.
“No, as far as I know, I was a male last night too,” he explained. “I’ve always been male. Just how drunk were you yesterday anyway?”
Masuda kind of wanted to cry. Apparently, drunk enough to pick up a man thinking he was a women, and then have sex with him even once he’d known differently.
“I’m straight,” he said miserably, almost to himself. His misery immediately turned to offense when the boy started to laugh again.
“I’m sorry, but after last night, I find it really hard to believe that you’re straight. You were enjoying yourself way too much, Massu.”
“Massu?” Masuda repeated incredulously. Not only did this guy have no tact, but now he was also giving him weird nicknames as well?
“Wow, you really were drunk,” the boy said, as though forgetting the nickname he’d given him was more understandable than mistaking him for a girl for half the night. “It’s cute, right? Massu. You’ve probably forgotten my name as well, haven’t you? I’m Tegoshi. Tegoshi Yuya.”
“Tegoshi…” Masuda repeated robotically. “I’m sorry but… I’m just really not into guys.”
“Your body seems to think differently,” Tegoshi pointed out, and Masuda felt the tips of his ears grow warm.
“I was drunk!” He said defensively, trying to get over how ridiculous it was that he was arguing his sexuality with a naked boy he’d known for all of 12 hours.
A naked boy he’d had sex with, he realized with a dull feeling of horror.
“Excessive alcohol intake can lead to erectile dysfunction,” Tegoshi answered calmly, like this was an everyday normal conversation. “And given that you probably drank enough to drown in and still managed to get it up last night implies that you were at least a little attracted to me, despite my penis… Maybe even because of it.”
Masuda cringed at the word (and the implications of what he’d done with it), but couldn’t find a way to defeat Tegoshi’s logic. He decided to blame it on the hangover for making thinking more difficult than it usually was.
“But I only like girl parts,” He said, the argument sounding feeble, even to his own ears. Especially now that he was maybe, sort of surreptitiously checking out Tegoshi’s body - it was right there in front of him and difficult to miss, it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to do it - and maybe, kind of finding him a little bit hot.
“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Tegoshi said patiently, as though he was explaining this to a particularly thick toddler. “You can like girl parts and still appreciate me. It’s not impossible.”
Masuda wanted to say that it was in his world - his poor little neatly organized world that was currently being messed up before his very eyes - but what came out instead was, “But I can’t appreciate you.”
Tegoshi chuckled good-naturedly, in a way that seemed at odds with the sly gleam in his eyes.
“Now that’s definitely impossible. You have a bad case of self-denial,” he said, probably not meaning for it to sound quite as arrogant as it did. And with that he climbed onto the bed and crawled over to Masuda. Masuda looked at him with, wide worried eyes as Tegoshi leaned in, lips ghosting against the ridges of his ear. “Let me show you just how much you can appreciate me.”
Masuda shivered. It probably would’ve been wiser to say something like ‘stop’ or ‘no’, but curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, “How did I possibly manage to mistake your voice for a girl’s voice?”
Tegoshi laughed into his ear, sending tingles down Masuda’s spine.
“It was loud in the club. We did more talking through our hands than our mouths. Until we got home,” he answered, as his hand casually disappeared under the covers before travelling down Masuda’s body.
Masuda bit back a moan, trying very hard not to appreciate anything that was being done to him, but when Tegoshi’s hand started to move, he let his head fall back against the pillow, grudgingly giving in.
What the heck, he thought; it wasn’t all bad. His hangover had mysteriously disappeared (he had a suspicion as to why - a suspicion that was currently groping him under his blankets), and at least he wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s Day alone anymore. And besides, he had all of tomorrow to get his world back into order.