Time Warp: Run Away! (Sam and Vincent)

[Event !]

Dude....what happened last night?

[Samuel Rixon]

EIGHT MONTHS AGO...

Sam was content. He was cuddled in bed, fast asleep. Last night had been a blast. He and Vin had been drinking, watching movies, trying to kill each other, and eventually, per usual, they’d passed out in bed.

... At least, that was what his drug addled brain was going to tell him. Sleepovers with Vincent Verax usually involved copious amounts of alcohol, a little weed out on the balcony of the apartment, video games, shouting, and passing out fully clothed in his bedroom. Nothing should be different this time around.

The pyro shifted a little. He could feel Vincent behind him, his arms wound tightly around his waist. That wasn’t a cause for concern. They were cuddly during the day, too. But as he resigned himself to the light streaming through the window, Sam began to realize a few things were amiss.

The first was that he had to take a piss. Really, really badly. The second was that he knew he would be facing a raging double hang over. Once again, alcohol and weed just do not mix. Not when you drank enough to put an Irishman to shame, and smoked enough to get Godzilla high.

Okay, he was getting up. He managed to pry Vin’s grip off of him and sit up. His head was already pounding, and his stomach did that oh so pleasant ‘PUKE TIEM NOW’ roll.

At this point, none of this was out of the ordinary. At least until he threw the blankets off (right on top of Vin) and stumbled to his feet. ... Why was he naked? ... And why did his ass feel like it was bruised? ... Probably from wrestling, though that didn’t explain the clothing, or lack thereof.

He staggered to the bathroom and just made it before losing anything he might have consumed last night in the way of food. (For the record, it was pizza, and more pixie stix than is generally recommended.) It was mornings like this that made him want to give up his vices.

... And seriously. Why the hell was he naked?

[Vincent Verax]

Vincent was very pleasantly warm. He wasn't awake enough yet to know why, but he was cuddled with someone toasty warm, his face buried in the back of their neck, his arms holding the warmth to himself. His brain was normally slow and when you added his current drowsy state, it was basically immobile. Thinking? Who thought in the morning? Certainly not him.

He was sad when the warmth finally pulled away from him and he burrowed under the blankets while groaning. Of course, this meant he had to wake up but didn't waaaant to! Thankfully, Vin was immune to hangovers. He was quite capable of getting drunk, but as long as he slept enough after doing so, his body would recover itself from the damage the alcohol had caused the night before, leaving him completely hangover free. I'm sure Sammy wishing that he could say the same, but it wouldn't be as fun otherwise.

Grumbling, Vincent finally pushed himself up into a sitting position, messed up his hair even more than it already was, and scratched lazily at his chest. "Mm... Char? S'that ya barfin' 'n there?" He shouted drowsily, rubbing at his face only to break into a yawn and stretch his arms over his head. He was already hating being awake and he threw a desperate glance down at his pillow. "Y'need anythin'?"

He was completely unbothered that he was naked, he slept like that normally, but it was just a tiny bit odd that Sammy was in his bathroom emptying his stomach contents into the toilet while he was sitting in bed bare ass naked. Vin found his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second he spent sitting up, so he flopped backwards back onto the pillows. That was better, much, much better.

For the record, Vin's memories are perfectly in tact, he just doesn't have the desire nor the energy to recall them at the moment. Sammy, you're screwed. Literally.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sammy. Was. Miserable. At the mercy of the Porcelain God, he was curled on the ground, still not sure if his stomach was entirely finished evicting its’ tenants. His head was still trying to kill him. Right. No more drinking. Ever. Ever ever ever. … How many times has he made this promise to himself? Dozens. How often does it actually stick? … Maybe a week, tops?

Vincent’s call made Sam groan in response. “Who th’ fuck else would it be, stupid?” Half the words were garbled and half articulated, though whether that was due to his hangover, or the fact that he was still waking up… it was hard to tell. “Yeah. I need a fuckin’ bullet to the head.” Yes. Because bullets would cure his epic hangover headache. And perhaps his nausea, while it was at it. Brilliant.

It took a few minutes (and one more date with the toilet) for Sammy to decide that maybe he could entertain the idea of moving again. He flushed the mess and used the toilet, then the counter, to help him stagger to his feet. He wanted to go back to bed. He wanted to go back to sleep and forget that he was naked and sick. Or maybe he wanted to go back to school, and be nursed by Ember. She always made him feel better, even if he did get a lecture on drinking too much.

“’m comin’ back to bed, Manson. Move the fuck over.” He was all for finding his boxers and curling back up with his best friend. Wobbling slightly, his hand on his head in the hopes that it might alleviate his headache, he really wasn’t watching where his feet were going.

Which is why when he stepped on something cold, something that made a horrible squelch noise, well, he stopped. His first thought was ‘Ohmygawd EMA’. But… Ema probably wouldn’t be cold if he stepped on her. He lifted his foot, but there was nothing there. He scowled and shook his foot, trying to dislodge the object. Sadly, his lack of coordination combined with frantic foot shaking all added up to… Sammy falling over and hitting his head on Vincent’s dresser. “Motherfucker!” His headache had just gotten ten times worse. And there was still some weird ass thing on his foot.

Groping around, while trying not to die, he managed to hook his fingers around the object. It was cold, and kind of squishy and wet. Scowling, he peeled it off.

… Then he realized what it was. His eyes went wide. And his heart began to pound. Oh no. No no no no no no. No. No. Fucking. Way. He made an odd sort of disgusted squeak before flinging the offending item directly at Vincent. Who he was officially staying the fuck away from. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, Verax.” That’s right. No love for Vinnie.

[Vincent Verax]

"I ain' allowed t'have a gun." Vin shouted back. This was for the safety of everyone around and also to prevent Vincent from shooting himself in the foot for fun. Sammy would probably love to watch this, but I'm not letting firearms anywhere near Vinnie, fireworks are bad enough.

For a brief moment, Vin pitied Sam. The retching sounds coming from the bathroom were entirely unpleasant, but they certainly couldn't be worse than what the pyro felt like. "Mmkay. Hurry, s'cold." Wiggling over so that there was room for Sammy on the bed, he wrapped himself tightly in the blankets and closed his eyes against the light that came in through the window.

He only opened them again when he heard a thud and Sammy swear. "'cha do now, Burn-y?" Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked down over the edge of the bed at his naked friend who was on the floor. "Walk much?" He grinned crookedly, then laughed as Sam squeaked like a mouse that had been trodden on. But that was then whatever he had stepped on came flying towards Vin's face. His reaction time wasn't fast enough to deflect it, so it hit him in the face, then dropped down onto his chest.

Picking it up, Vin wrinkled his nose. A condom. A used condom. It was then that the dormant memories came into light in Vin's mind and he began smirking. "Oh DUDE, I totally boned ya las' night!" Throwing the condom back onto the floor until some later point when he could actually be bothered to get out of bed. "I was wonderin' why we was both naked."

Vincent seemed particularly amused by this turn of events, namely because Sammy was so adamantly straight. "Eh, 'm too tired t'brag, s'let's go back t'sleep an' ya can punch m' or somethin' later." I think Sammy would prefer to punch you now.

[Samuel Rixon]

Well darn. Bullet to the brain wasn’t going to happen. And Sam had no hope of asking Vincent for Tylenol. Bastard healers. Maybe a little weed fix would ease the misery he was in now. ... At the very least, it might distract him. See what I mean? Weed and alcohol caused this mess, and he’s already thinking about doing it again. Clever little thing, isn’t he? “I don’t care. BORROW one.” ... Why this is still a viable option to him, I don’t want to know.

Yes, Sam felt like shit. And he really wanted to know what it was like to have healing powers, because really, what the hell use was fire right now? “M’ coming, fuckface.” Oh good, he’s got the energy to call Vincent names. This is a bit of an improvement. Of course, we both know that isn’t going to last long. Especially after he crashed onto the floor. “Shuttup Vin. Fuckin’ stepped on something.” Of course, the something was not something he wanted to become familiar with. At least in this context.

And what Vin said afterwards.... well... Sammy’s worst nightmare had just come true. And the more he concentrated, the more little snippets of last night came back to haunt him. Needless to say, he didn’t crawl back into bed. In fact, he pushed himself to a sitting position, forgetting about the pain from where his head had met the dresser, his knees hugged tight to his chest. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” It was more of a whine than anything else. Sure, Vincent had hinted at it in the past. Only because he’d known that Sam was, yes, straight, and it had been fun to tease him. He’d never, ever thought he’d ever go through with it. Which begged the question how on earth they’d come to that last night.

“Uh uh. No way.” Sam shook his head, then winced because it hurt. “I’m not talkin’ to you right now, bitchface.” If he had his way, he’d be throwing something hard and heavy at Vin’s head, finding his clothes, and running back to Hammel. Yes, running. It’s that bad. “Fuckin’ hate you.” Oh Vincent, how are you going to fix this?

[Vincent Verax]

Sammy was probably hating Vincent for his hangover immunity, but Vincent was hating Sam for not crawling back into bed to be his snuggle buddy. Then again, this is a boy who has slept with, or at least fooled around with, the majority of his friends and he didn't care whether they were girls or boys. Sam had always been adamant about liking only girls, though Vin constantly teased him because that's just who he is and what he does. Friendship with Vincent is like a double-edged sword, you're going to have fun with him and he'll be loyal, but you're going to get insulted and more than likely harmed in his wake of destruction and disobedience.

Grumbling, Vinnie rolled himself to the edge of the bed and looked down at the pitiful looking Sammy on the floor. "Yeah? Y'hate me? Ain' gunna change nothin'." He rested his chin in his hands and looked down at Sammy, unable to wipe the rather smug look from his face. "B'sides, ya was practically beggin' m' to fuck ya las' nigh'. Y'spected m'to say no?" Groaning, he rolled over once more and fell to the floor with a thud, because getting out of bed the normal way was nowhere near as fun. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and leaned back against his bed.

"So ya wanna hit m'or something, sweet ass?" He scratched at his head, hand practically disappearing in his messy hair. "Y'sure that was ya first time wit' a dude?" Sympathy, from Vincent? Not a chance. Reaching forward, he went to ruffle Sammy's hair. "Don' b'all upset. S'just sex." He certainly didn't understand what Sammy's big deal was, but his whole mindset was different. To him, this was absolutely normal, although this was his first time with Sam (and likely his only unless they take that trip to Vegas...) but that didn't change things much.

He crawled over to Sammy and wrapped his arms around him. "Ya jus' need a hug. S'okay." Well... at least he's trying to be a little bit nice? "Aw man, Tits 'n' Floppy are gunna flip when they hear 'bout this." Like Vin was going to miss a chance to brag about a conquest. Besides, he'd bet them some time ago that he'd be able to get Sam in his bed and it made him grin at the thought of collecting his well-earned cash from them.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam was loose in terms of sex too, just... not in the same way as Vincent. Though he most often found himself falling into bed with Ember, he wasn’t above trying to trade sexual favors for homework help with other girls. Boys? Well, if he was a little high and little giggly, he might flirt, only to run away giggling like the immature little thing he really is. He knew Vin gave him flack for the whole being straight thing, but sorry, that was the way he was. Guys just didn’t hold an interest for him. Though he was affectionate with Vincent and Horus, usually ended up cuddled with one or the other as they piled on a couch for video game tournaments or movies. And cuddling was okay. Anything else, not so much.

Sammy didn’t even look at Vincent when he talked to him. In fact, halfway though, he even closed his eyes. Why? Because he didn’t want to be there right that second. He wanted to be back in his dorm, where being naked wasn’t a scary prospect, and the person he woke up with most definitely had female anatomy. “Shut up shut up shut UP. I didn’t.” Oh sweetie, deny it all you want. Granted, Sam was the one that had thought it would be brilliant to smoke as much as he had. Coupled with alcohol, well... it had led to this. But he would still blame Vincent.

The thud caught his attention enough to make him crack open one eye. He glared at his friend at the newly imposed nickname. “’Course I wanna fuckin’ punch you.” It was more muttered than actually spoken, because technically, he still wasn’t speaking to Vincent. At least until he touched him. Sammy flinched away from the hand on his head. “It ain’t ‘just sex’ Vin!” There was a difference between what had gone down last night, and what he did with Ember. Good luck trying to get Vincent to understand that, though.

The second Vincent’s arms were around him, Sam was squirming to get out of his grip. He didn’t want to be touched right now. “GetoffmeRIGHTFUCKINGNOW.” He wasn’t kidding. Normally, he was all for hugs. Right now, well, this wasn’t normal. And things were only made worse with Vincent’s gleeful realization. Sammy stopped flailing long enough to think about that. “No! Don’t fuckin’ TELL them! Vin, please, don’t.” He was reduced to begging. “Jus’.... jus’ stop touching me and don’t tell ‘em.” Who knows? Keep poking that hive, and you might actually reduce him to tears.

[Vincent Verax]

Though Vincent acted like a right jerk most of the time, he wasn't entirely heartless. He did care about his friend and was extremely loyal to them. Idiotic stunts and rude nicknames aside, he was a good friend. Sometimes he just didn't understand the limitations, sometimes he went a little too far without realizing it until it was much too late. This was one of those times. When Sammy freaked out at what was supposed to be a comforting hug, Vincent knew that he had overstepped his boundaries.

He released his friend at his pitiful whining and sat back, looking at him appraisingly. He wanted to be sympathetic, he really did, but his ego was making that a little bit difficult. "Alrigh', Sam, I won' tell 'em." He finally managed to spit out after what seemed an eternity and if you're wondering about his sincerity, don't worry. He'd used Sammy's real name and not one of his asinine nicknames or insults that he loves so much. That's how you know he's being truthful.

"Jus' calm down, alrigh'? Freakin' th'fuck out ain't gunna change nothin'. Y'just gunna make ya hangover worse." Stubbornly, Vin reached out and grabbed Sammy's wrists against any protests he might make, then started tugging him back over to the bed. Giving Sammy a gentle shove, he pushed him back onto the bed and instructed him to stay there. "It ain't th'end 'f th'world or anything." He threw the blankets casually over Sam, then padded (still bare-ass naked) into the kitchen to get his friend a glass of water. Unfortunately, Vincent didn't have any tylenol or other painkillers. They weren't things he needed, so he never bought them. Sorry, Sam.

[Samuel Rixon]

Oh, Sam knew that Vin wasn’t completely heartless. Hell, he saw it enough when Vincent was cuddling with Emaleth, or if someone other than a member of their little moron tribe tried picking on any of them, you could count on Vincent to pound them. However, at the moment? Vincent was classified as heartless, or near to it. He wasn’t going to be forgiven so easily. In fact, Sam was now contemplating how long Vincent needed to be in the metaphorical doghouse. Now, normally, Sammy was a ridiculously cuddly little creature. But he did not want Vincent’s hands on him right now.

Particularly as he was still naked. Both of them were.

As soon as Vincent released him, Sam felt like he could breathe again. His chest heaved a little, mostly because he was really, really trying not to panic. Especially because Vincent was just staring at him. Quietly. A quiet Vincent was never, ever a good sign. Ever. So when he finally spit out that he wouldn’t tell the others, well, Sam felt ever so slightly relieved. Even more so because Vincent actually used his name. That meant sincerity, and that was a good thing. “You better fucking not.”

Yes. He was sulking. Even more so when Vincent began to mother him. He scowled and attempted to make it as difficult as possible for Vincent to drag him up onto the bed, but eventually, he was up. “Don’ tell me what to do.” No loving nickname. This isn’t good. He just shot a glare at Vincent’s retreating form, calling after him “Put your fuckin’ pants on.” He didn’t want to see Vin’s ass, glorious and toned as it might be. (Vincent ego stroke, because Sammy’s being a jerk.) He didn’t want to know what Vin was doing (but he was more than half hoping it was a gun now), but you can bet that when he’s back, there will be a lot more glaring.

[Vincent Verax]

When Vincent finally came back, he had a glass of water in one hand and Emaleth on his shoulder. He figured seeing the spider might cheer Sammy up and she had crawled over his hand when he was looking for clean glasses. He only laughed when Sammy told him to put on pants; there was a fat chance of that. "S'too much work." He complained even as he slid up on the bed and held the glass out to his friend, then set Ema down on Sammy's chest. "Someone wanted t'see ya." If anything could make Sammy feel better (other than Ember) it would be Emaleth.

He stretched out on the bed until he was completely comfortable and folded his hands underneath his head. "S'ya still bitchy? 'cause fuck man, 'ma be out a lot 'f I don' tell Tits 'n Flops." Oh Vincent, ever the self-serving bastard, thinking only of his money and not of his traumatized friend. How smart of you to tell Sam that you'd be able to sleep with him when he was so adamant that he was straight. As far as Vin was concerned, this was nothing out of the ordinary. "An' dude, y'totally wanted it." Like he was going to let Sammy get away with denying that he wasn't extremely sexy and desirable.

He rolled over until he was laying on his stomach, looking up at Sammy curiously. "'m thinkin' I migh' charge ya t'keep this a secret." Wily little devil. He was smirking as he poked at Sammy's stomach, his chin resting in his hand. "Cause y'know... s'a pretty hot secret, 'specially th'way y'was moanin' m'name." And the nice Vincent from before was gone just as quickly as he had come, the manic grin on his face only confirming that Sammy was going to be paying or the whole school was going to hear about his recent sexual exploits... Ember first.

[Samuel Rixon]

When Vincent finally came back, one Samuel Rixon wasn’t quite done with his little sulkfest. He honestly didn’t care if Vincent had water for him. He did, however, care that Ema was with him. As long as he kept his gaze above Vin’s waist, he might be all right. Of course, the laugh made him scowl a little as he rolled over to face Vincent. “I don’t care. Do it.” Still, he took the glass and managed a little swallow before Ema distracted him. Her feet tickled on his bare chest, and he grinned. “Hey pretty girl.” Yes, he’s all out ignoring Vincent for as long as possible. Because spider cuddle time was THAT important.

Sammy tried to keep his eyes away from Vincent as he crawled back into bed. Keeping the water in one hand, he let the other trail gently over Ema’s back, then down her legs. He liked Ema. She was a little like a tiny dog. But Vincent’s chatter ruined any sort of happy feelings Sammy got from the spider. “Shut it, Vin.” And then something clicked in his little brain. Sam scowled and picked up Ema, cradling her in his hand as he rolled over to face Vincent properly. “Whaddaya mean ‘out a lot’?” Oh dear. Vincent has some ‘splainin’ to do. “I did not.” Was that a whine? I think it was.

The pyrokinetic scowled a little, gently touching his finger to each of Ema’s feet before stroking her back again, watching her flatten against his palm. He wasn’t even looking at Vincent anymore. “How much?” Was he really agreeing to pay off his best friend in order to keep this a secret. He glared at Vincent when he poked him. “I wan’t moaning and shut up.” Eloquent. “Just... seriously. How much would it take to keep your fuckin’ mouth shut? Forever.” Yes, forever. Sorry, Vin. No collecting on that bet.

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