What Christmas? This?

A great, wanton surge shot up within Baldric as his mouth found Bentley’s once more. The Gryffindor curled his legs around the elder man’s hips and rolled them over so that he was straddled overtop. His wandering fingers immediately found Bentley’s wrists and with a spry show of force, he threw the man’s arms up over his head. Baldric’s mouth stole down from Bentley’s and trailed his lips over the latter’s jaw, roving across the skin, nipping at the sharp arch as he slid down over his neck. Baldric nibbled his way over Bentley’s throat, unable to stop himself from moaning a little as he brushed over the thundering pulse point lingering under the milky skin.

“Good,” Baldric murmured as the fingers of his spare hand slid over Bentley’s chest, his lips following close behind, sliding across the man’s collar bone. “Because when I am done with you…”

The air around crackled and whipped wildly with magic as the heat between them warmed the sheets through. The covers tangled and twisted around their legs as the bold battle for control took over. At some point, Baldric managed to remember to cast a silencing charm, leaning out of the bed for a moment to grab his wand up from where it had tumbled off of the floor before crawling back in with a throaty chuckle. The mattress all the while squealed its displeasure at them until exhaustion and the drink finally combined to see the boys succumb to sleep in a tangle of limbs.

Come morning, a splitting headache had cut its way over Baldric’s scalp. Bright, offensive winter sunshine shone in through the ever so slightly parted black out curtains, sparkling over Baldric’s head and teasing at his eyes. He lifted his head from where it had ended up tucked at the hollow of Bentley’s throat and stared testily at the window as though his glare was going to scare the sun into disappearing. He sighed in the end and gave up, lowering his head back down to its fleshy pillow, allowing himself to droop back into slumber land.  

Now came the question: did he remember what had happened the night before? That was an issue that would need to be addressed when he woke up again properly.

Bentley paid no heed to the threat Baldric uttered – he was too interested in what it might mean to be worried by it. When he woke, however, the words danced through his head like a promise more than a threat; that's what they'd been after all. And hell, he clearly hadn't been drunk enough to mistake what had happened. But you were drunk enough to go through with it? His mind snapped at him, not helping the ache he felt all over. Something – or rather, someone – was lying on his chest, their leg wrapped over one of Ben's.

This Gryffindor Ben found himself glancing down at (though it took some effort considering the man's head was under his chin) had somehow turned him completely upside down. Where Bentley was always cautious, drink had made him careless. Or rebellious. Or something. He wasn't so sure he regretted it, either. That just made things more complicated all around.

Other than the obvious, Ben also remembered the offer he had made. He couldn't even begin to imagine if Rick would remember, but Merlin did his head ache. He just wanted to know what was going on, so he could get to his flat and down something to help his hangover. It couldn't have been worse than the hangover Baldric would have, he was sure. But it still persisted, as a reminder of the fact that he, as a general rule, avoided drinking around others. Clearly, that hadn't quite worked out.

He groaned, attempting to keep quiet enough that he wouldn't wake Baldric (he had some decorum, alright?), and lifted a hand to his eyes to rub the sleep out of them. He hadn't noticed before, but his other hand was on Rick's back. He moved it away, not knowing what would happen when he woke fully. Perhaps it was best to just wake him and see what was to be done. Ben needed to know if his flat would be this other man's home for a time as well. And he had to know what was to be done about Christmas Day.

He shifted a bit, hoping to jostle Rick just enough to wake him, mumbling out a “Bloody hell.” for good measure. When it didn't seem to do much, Ben sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Deciding to hang propriety once more, he turned towards Rick, onto his side, so the Gryffindor would end up falling to his material pillow, rather than using Ben's chest as one. “Oi. You there.” He poked Rick in the chest. “It's time to be heading out, mate.”

When Baldric Wood came to for the second time that morning, he blinked one eye open and found a sight that he hadn’t imagined he’d ever see. Minor excursions of the loins had traipsed him into unfamiliar territory yet again but fortunately he found himself still present instead of flurrying out with his boxers and one sock on, thoroughly embarrassed. No, while he’d delved onto what he would call the dark side of the sheets, he felt a lot more settled as snippets of the tussling and the turning, the bruising lips and the heavy touches returned to the forefront of his mind. He could still taste the red wine on his tongue, the initial banter he had with Firewhisky earlier the prior evening long forgotten, and he could taste Bentley. Red wine and Benji.

“Shit.” The groan was understandable, a given, and Baldric nuzzled into the space between the two sets of pillows he’d been afforded by what his mind registered as quite possibly guilty shift of Bentley’s body. He didn’t want to have to deal with the roles being reversed. He was the Robin. Bentley was the Baldric. He listened out, regardless, for the shuffle of shoes and other effects but no such rustle began to break forth and Baldric hesitantly lifted his head, his bright eyes, clouded with a deep-rooted hangover, blinking into the sunshine as they cast their stare over Benji.

“Did you only pay for one night?” Baldric muttered, curling his arms around the pillow as he allowed his eyes to fall back to their close, his eyelashes kissing together over his cheeks.

Baldric Wood. What are you doing?

They say that sometimes, guilt chases you up in hindsight. They also say that when you act out of character, the very act is so shocking you might just fall out of bed. That’s what Baldric did: with a yelp and a bang as his arse hit the floor.

“Oh my Gods…kill me now.” Baldric pulled on the sheet he’d held onto for grim life and it came willingly off of the bedspread, tumbling down onto his chest to protect whatever modesty he had left. His other hand came up and he robbed his fingers through the back of his hair before sitting up a little.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “I’m going teetotal.”

Throwing the sheet back onto the bed, Baldric used the poster to help him back up onto the balls of his feet. He brushed his hand over his face briefly before glancing over at Benji and frowning a little.

“What do you mean: heading out? How can you even move?”

Granted, nausea had never really gotten to have its wicked way when it came to Baldric’s stomach and reaction to alcohol. Instead he turned into a thirsty dog and already the need for water and a plate of salty chips was setting in. Not to mention a spicy omelette that might chase away the headache. He was beyond done with the day and it hadn’t even started but unlike Benji who probably did have more pressing matters in order, Baldric just didn’t have the galleons on him to stay in the bed that smelt like sweat and wine and other unmentionable fluids. To stay he’d have to get up and go out anyway. He wouldn’t win on that front.

“God, Merlin… Breakfast then heading out? Coffee, at least then heading out. Shower. Shower, coffee, breakfast then heading out?”

Baldric's muttered word certainly resonated with Bentley. It was bad enough that nothing in his mind was saying that he should regret his choices or actions. But when Rick questioned him, it just made it that much more embarrassing. A piece of him suggested that perhaps claiming he had, in fact, paid for more than one night, wouldn't be so bad in the end. Ben hushed that part of his mind, instead shaking his head.

“Just the one, here..” He nearly asked if Rick remembered his offer. That could come later, he decided silently.

A thud from the other side of the bed made Ben sit up and peer over the edge before chuckling at the reaction it caused from the younger man. The following oath only made Ben laugh harder. It wasn't necessarily a laughing matter, but it couldn't be helped. Regardless of his usual tendency to hold back laughter or anything, really, besides a smirk, he was already so far gone at that point that he didn't care how unusual it was. There was the lingering question of how long this personality shift would last, but it clearly wouldn't matter until it was gone. Then, of course, he would know the answer.

“Well, I meant out of bed, originally,” Ben replied languidly, leaning back against the headboard and eyeing Baldric with amusement. “But you've already managed that. Moving isn't going to be easy, per say, but you seemed to manage it decently well.” He shrugged with a faint smirk. Ah, there it was. That was more normal.

His eyebrows rose briefly at the shower idea, surprised by where his thoughts were heading. That wasn't like him at all, unless he referred back to the earlier note that his co-workers had easily corrupted his mind. If anything at all was going to get done, including figuring out what was ahead, getting out of the mess of sheets around him would be required. That was unfortunate. And irritating. Now he had to ponder whether or not to head straight for clothes, or gather up a pillow or something. Oh, hang it all.

Sweeping the sheets back, Ben pushed himself up and glanced over at Rick. “That should work,” he agreed, “But then the question is where we are heading out to.” He lifted a brow in question before catching himself nearly glancing down. “I don't know if-” Ben paused, blinking and watching his companion warily, “I don't know if you remember but I asked if you needed a place to say. I don't think you answered..”

Panic took a moment to grasp hold tightly of Baldric Wood and he stared openly at the man whose charity had markedly changed the pattern of events that had composed the night prior to that bright morning. Baldric’s memory was not as poor in regards to that night as Bentley had perhaps hoped and contrary to what his drunken persona had suggested, Baldric would have quite happily that morning let the idea of shacking up with Bentley go as quietly as the morning had crept up upon them. He didn’t want to impose. It certainly wasn’t his place. What he’d been hoping was to apparate home and sober up fully at a friend’s in the village before going home. He hadn’t expected Benji to remember. Merlin knew he was glad of it.

Rising slowly to his feet, careful to use the poster of the bed rather than the coverings lest he end up in a heap again, Baldric mirrored Benji with equal, open nudity. If the other man was unabashed by it then Baldric felt the leftovers of Dutch courage could see him through any embarrassment. His boxers were Merlin-only-knows-where, discarded during his feverish determination to get to Bentley, to glide his fingers over every inch of skin and explore every hidden crevice and count every mole or freckle. He’d succeeded. Where the offending article of clothing had gotten to in the process was an entirely different question. He was just glad he hadn’t gone out and gotten a tattoo. Sex was the least of his worries, sore or not.

“If I could stay, I’d be grateful,” Baldric replied, ducking his head embarrassedly as he realised that now it had been brought up he’d look a fool if he turned around and said ‘no’ – especially considering he was the one who had brought up needing somewhere to stay in the first place.

The Gryffindor, red as a tomato, forgive the cliché, knelt down and picked up the sheet from the floor. He dropped it onto the bed once he’d grasped it and held up his arms before dropping them to his sides, his hands slapping against his upper thighs before he made to move across the room, the adjoining bathroom in sight but a little too far with not enough obstacles in the way for him to use as leverage to get there. He still didn’t trust his legs much and the way he stumbled just by moving past the poster informed him that he was right not to, as well.

“C’mon. Shower. I’ll lean on you, you lean on me and somehow if we manage to get clean we might make it downstairs for breakfast. Have you seen my boxers about, by the way?”

Ben just nodded at the younger man's reply, not wanting to add to the awkwardness or embarrassment he seemed to feel in the wake of accepting Bentley's offer. It was better, perhaps, to let it float away as if it were nothing. It wasn't exactly something, but Ben felt almost good about his helping out the Gryffindor. He wondered if his old house-mates would think it strange; probably not, considering he so often avoided them in school.

A slow smirk made its way across Ben's face at Rick's attempts to move about the room. Was it wrong of him to be amused by the idea that he had affected the other man as much as he had been? Ben was surprised at himself, but not enough to feel bad about the expression on his face. Instead, he made his way around towards the younger man, using the foot of the bed to support himself just in case, and lifted a brow at Baldric in question – could he get to the bathroom alright? Better not to take chances. Ben walked alongside Rick to offer an arm in the event that he should feel as stiff or awkward as Bentley did.

“No, I'm fairly sure you did away with those rather effectively,” Ben replied lightly, having decided that being embarrassed by what had already happened would be useless, “but I'd say you might want to check the table area. Merlin knows where you tossed them.”

Glancing about, Ben caught sight of his own things as he made his way into the loo and set the shower on. He nearly reminded himself that their awkwardness had been abated the night before, but then he remembered the part about their being drunk and only remembering parts of it. He kept a wary eye on Rick as he tested the water with his fingers. Once it was decently warm, Ben stepped in and let the warmth return to his body like the sheets had offered heat that morning.

“Well, Gryffindor? You're the one who wanted a shower.” He commented without glancing over, instead sticking his head under the falling water to wet his hair.

There was something within the stomach of Baldric Wood that was begging the young man to wallow in the bed that he’d only called his for an evening. There was also something within the Gryffindor that was urging him to get out into the cool, winter air in nothing but a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of trainers. From there, he could run and stretch every muscle that arced and curved around his bones that had been wasting out of spite.

There was still a sportsman in him somewhere beneath the alcohol and the cigarettes and the long hours at Quality Quidditch Supplies outside of the sporting world he adored. There was, somewhere, the man who spent long afternoons playing cricket until he couldn’t see the ball coming towards him. There was the man who spent hours perfecting his free kick – top-right hand corner, every time. There was the man who could outrun any player with a mind to drag him into the mud. He wasn’t in that room, though. He wasn’t present in the inn. Just someone who looked like him. It certainly wasn’t Baldric Wood.

Wetting his lips, Baldric let Bentley help him into the bathroom and in the bright light of the tiled room he could gather his countenance a little better though it did little to soothe the sudden tenseness that had taken up his shoulders in a vice-like grip. He watched as the water slid over Bentley’s body and Baldric once again began to work on some sort of warped auto-pilot. Suddenly he was in the shower cubical with the other man, the door sliding closed behind him.

Baldric’s hands trailed down Bentley’s arms as his lips found the nape other man’s neck. Baldric took his lips across Benji’s skin and kissed along the blades of his shoulders before stepping back a little, stealing the soap off of the little basin on the side.

“Oh, I’m showering,” Baldric retorted with a smirk, rubbing the soap between his palms. “Don’t mind me.”

Bentley couldn’t help the smirk that dashed across his lips at Rick’s touch. That bizarre assuredness that had set into him a minute before had returned. Baldric’s retort made Ben huff quietly and frown. The barrier had once again been breached, and again it was an opening for Bentley to either take the lead or pretend it had never started. He toyed with the idea of seeing how Rick would react to his ignoring the younger man’s advances, but in the end, Ben reached for the small, hotel-sized shampoo bottle the Leaky had provided.

Dumping a mass of it into his hands, Bentley turned towards the bloke who apparently was to become some semblance of a roommate for him. After brushing his hands together to start up the suds, he pushed his hands through Baldric’s hair under the guise of simply intending to assist with the wash.

He waited until he caught Rick’s eyes before stepping forward and pulling the Gryffindor towards him. Bentley smirked against Baldric’s lips, hovering only a moment before grazing over Rick’s jaw with his mouth instead, his fingers working the suds through his companion’s hair.

If asked, later, what he had been doing that morning, Bentley wouldn’t quite know what lie to give them. Maybe that he was helping someone work out their living arrangements. It seemed like a decent enough reason for his absence at the office. Not that anyone there really had the right to ask him, considering he was in charge of the vast majority of the employees, the others being watched over by his new father.

“Unfortunately, Rick,” Ben muttered though he didn’t bother pulling away to speak, “I do mind.  You’ve gone an interrupted mine.” The words came out almost harshly, though he couldn’t bring himself to feel apologetic about the tone. Instead, he stepped closer in an attempt to make the other man retreat against the wall of the shower.

There was no loss in confidence. Yet the young man did wonder after his companion as he watched Benji feign preoccupation with the shower gel. A pout rose on Baldric's lips despite himself and he slid the soap back over the lip of the bowl as his spare hand found Benji's hip.

A smirk parted his lips when Bentley's fingers raked through his hair and Baldric eagerly leaned into the touch, his eyes closing at the feel of Bentley's nails aching across his scalp in all the right places.

"You should think about a strategic career change," Baldric moaned. "Masseuse would suit you well."

Baldric was greedy and desperate for the other man's touch suddenly as though the the hangover had lifted enough under the jets for him to feel anything other than nausea. Under Bentley's fingers and the way he could feel the other man's mouth sparking to life the skin that had forgotten his touch, Baldric's lust was rekindled.

As though part of an intricate dance, Baldric took his steps at Bentley's direction. The feel of his warm back up against the cool tiles was liberating but did nothing to abate the sudden heat coursing through his veins, electrifying every cell in his body.

"I am sure I can make it worth your while, Ben," Baldric murmured huskily. "I'm sure you can make it worth mine."

“I’ll consider it,” he practically growled out, hardly recognizing his own voice. “I might need more practice, though.”

The hand Bentley pressed against the tile by Baldric’s head hardly helped; the chill of the tile sent a shiver through him even as it kept him standing and more-or-less alert to his actions. His free hand moved to wedge itself between Rick’s back and the tiles, as if to assist in keeping the cold partially at bay. Going through motions that felt oddly practiced, Ben let the rather primal desire lead him, scrambling his focus in the best way.

Bentley would wonder, later, if the water had been charmed to keep warm, considering how long it took them to actually get clean and return to the bedroom to find their things. In the end, though, he knew he would have to admit to the heat coming from elsewhere, the actual washing having been done in a rush to escape the cold water falling from the shower.

In time, clothes were discovered, hands finding purchase on the fabric that hid behind the dresser – Bentley decided not to wonder after how they found their way there. It took serious effort to walk to the door, gesturing towards it. “You said coffee and breakfast next?”

The problem Ben found was that walking out the door would, in all possibility, change things. Would his flat bring about more issues than it could solve for the Gryffindor? Pushing the questions away, Bentley looked about the room, wondering if he even brought anything with him the night before. Naught but his jacket and wand, he decided, as his wallet had miraculously kept its spot in his pocket of his pants.

“I’ll show you the flat after. Looks like I’m not heading into the office today, anyway.” He shrugged, sure that even if someone noticed they would leave it alone. Essentially, Ben had a free pass when it came to work. This was even more true after the paperwork had been filed the day before.