Spoilers: Eh, all of Roswell is up for grabs, but this is pure crack so it doesn’t really matter; plus a great deal of canon has been augmented after the first season.
Category: UC, AU, Ensemble
Pairings: Polar, Fifthwheeler, Incrowder, Max and Maria friendly
Summary: A day in the life of our favored Roswellians.
Warning: Some foul language and implied naughtiness.
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
A/N: So this series of drabbles are based on several texts Whimsy and I took from the website Texts from Last Night and applied them to our favorite Roswell characters. These fit into the Fridge Caper universe on our Polar Twins account. The original text for The Morning After is – You realize that if you hadn't spiked my drink while you mouthed "we're getting laid tonight", I wouldn't have woken up with your ex this morning. Just sayin’ .
AN2: Please note that all characters are at or above the legal age to drink alcohol, which is 21 in the United States; the author in no way condones under age drinking, nor is she responsible for the idiots that take this as a sign of glamorizing it or decide to attempt any of these things at home. You are responsible for your own actions.
Michael groaned, his head spinning and pain stabbing in the back of his eyes, mouth dry as cotton as he pressed his face into his pillow. The annoying tinny chirp of his phone filled his ear, just adding to the throb radiating through his head. He cursed under his breath, blindly groping at his bedside table, tempted to blast the offending object to smithereens just to get it to stop. Damn Max. If that was him calling, he was going to fry his sappy, ‘I’m an anal retentive, happy morning person’ ass because it was all his fault that he was feeling this way.
Fumbling with the little black phone that his Nazi sister had enforced on him, and that his family seemed to love tormenting him with at obscene hours of the morning, he groaned when the device scuttled out of his grasping fingers and clattered to the floor with a loud bang. Or at least loud to someone nursing an alien hangover. Screw blasting Max; that was too quick and painless a death for the torture his brother had inflicted on him.
“Fuck,” he muttered , dropping his hand back to the bed and wincing as speaking aloud made a wave of pain wash through his head once again, and then flopped onto his back, moaning when his stomach rolled sickly, the burn of acid coating the back of his throat as he fought the urge to get sick. Oh, yes, someone was going to pay dearly for this. Gingerly raising his hand to his head, he grit his teeth and concentrated, sending a little flood of healing power through it, and sighed as the pinching stopped.
Lowering his hand, confusion filled him, and his brow furrowed when he encountered a warm lump that shouldn’t be there. What the hell?
Cautiously turning his head to the side, Michael studied the cascade of tangled molasses locks spilling over a smooth, golden back in bewilderment, his the brother’s words from the night before coming back to haunt him as rolled onto his side and faced his companion, his eyes sliding over the petite form appreciatively. Damn, now he had another reason to kill Max, as he couldn’t remember a damned thing about last night and judging by his and her lack of dress, it had been one hell of a night.
Shifting closer to the girl, he moved as slowly as possible, frantically searched his mind for the few hazy details he had been able to piece together from the previous evening, and attempted to recall if a brunette had been present at their impromptu party, failing horrifically. The only brunette he remembered was Liz, who, granted, had looked incredibly hot with her soft, sexy waves, tight jeans and tiny tank top as she danced with Tess and Isabel, and he had briefly considered, but…
Oh, hell. No way. He didn’t. He couldn’t have, could he?
Holding his breath, he leaned over, grunting when his chest grazed against silken skin and he peered into her face, frowning when he couldn’t make out the woman’s features as tousled, silky waves shielded her from view. Reaching over carefully, he slid a finger under the thick, heavy mass; the silky texture was oddly familiar and brought with it a flash of memory of him gripping it tightly between his fingers as he crushed soft, pink lips to his. The visual hit him with the impact of a sledge hammer, sucking the air from his lungs and seared his blood with desire.
Well, that answered one question; now for the other.
Gasping, both at the lust raging through his body, and her unveiling, he stared down into Liz’s serene face, her lips rosy and passion-bruised, and groaned deeply. This was a nightmare. How the hell was he going to explain this to Max? Not that he deserved one after his stunt last night, but seriously, he hated when his pseudo brother got his panties in a twist. He ended up sulking for days and tormented all and sundry with that damned Counting Crows CD.
Heart hammering against his chest, Michael continued to stare at the beauty before him, shocked, and oddly elated, when she burrowed into his body, seeking heat and eliciting the typical reaction a man could expect when naked in bed with a gorgeous girl – his body heated, perking up with an interest that he had shunted aside long ago. Lust drunk, he inhaled and shivered as the scent of vanilla and strawberries teased his nose. She always did smell incredible, and he had always wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled.
And Damn Max to the deepest hell for spiking his drink so he couldn’t even remember that.
Unable to resist, he dragged his fingers over her arm softly, swallowing thickly when she seemed to purr in the back of her throat, the little noise doing things to him inside that he couldn’t even explain and he bit back another grunt as she shifted into him further. Lids falling half-mast, he toyed with the edge of the sheet, curiosity getting the best of him and he began to drag it from her form, freezing, desire rippling through his body when she sighed and murmured huskily. “Michael…”
Sucker punched, he licked his lips and stared down at her, electricity dancing over his nerves as her body brushed against his again, disappointed when she pulled away and turned over onto her back, giving him a clear view of her face and soft, barely covered golden swells. Eyes riveted on that tender skin, he leaned over, intending to find out if his vague memories and fantasies lived up to the reality when his phone twittered at him again making him growl impatiently. Oh yeah, Max was so going to pay for this.
Rolling over, he leaned out of the bed and impatiently swiped at his phone, his eyes still riveted on the woman in his bed, and he licked his lips appreciatively as the movement had dragged the sheet lower, revealing more of those mocha swells. Groaning as unadulterated lust flooded his system, Michael turned back to the phone with a grunt, amazed that his companion continued to sleep on despite the noise.
His royal pain in the ass had better have a damned good reason for texting him this early.
Pushing the appropriate buttons, he snorted and groaned at the same time as the message from Max flashed onto his screen, scratching at his brow as he tried to figure out the best way to answer this question.
Woke up alone. You?
Staring at what should have been an innocuous question, even one that lead to good-natured ribbing and perhaps some mocking of his brother’s lack of social skills, he winced. Instead it had suddenly become a landmine given the identity of the woman lying next to him; because while Max and Liz had been over for years, Max had never quite gotten over the fact that she wasn’t interested in continuing their angst-ridden high school romance.
Hitting a few buttons, he briefly considered lying, but then if he and Liz turned out to be more than a one-night mistake, things could get sticky later, so he went for a generalized truth, hoping his brother would drop it.
He should have realized his life would never be that easy as his phone jingled annoyingly, almost immediately after he had sent it, Max’s name flashing on the screen. Rolling his eyes at his brother’s continued conversation, he had to wonder how long it had been since Max had gotten laid, because obviously he hadn’t figured out that the last thing a man wanted was to get repeated texts when he had a woman in his bed. Sighing, he looked at Liz and seeing she was still sleeping, figured he might as well read it.
Of course not, what was I thinking? Good?
Good? What the fuck? Did he want him to rate it? How did one say, ‘well here’s the deal asshole; I can’t remember because some interfering bastard spiked my drink last night, so I don’t recall fucking your ex-girlfriend, but let me wake her up and ask.’ Yeah, that’d go over well. The last thing he needed was Max to barrel into his apartment, screaming like a whiny, little girl and find him fucking Liz in truth.
Scrubbing his hand over is face, he stared at the phone just waiting for the comment that was going to bring because he just knew that Max would be insanely curious after his vague answers. And sure enough, the phone vibrated in his hand with a message from Chatty Cathy.
You sound uncertain…hag?
Hag? Not even close, Maxwell. Looking over at Liz, he slid another appreciative gaze over her body, reaching over. Tugging the sheet lower to reveal more of that golden skin, he momentarily forgot his friend and stared his fill, her body compact and toned, yet gently curved in all the right places. Who knew that she’d been hiding that body under all that modest clothing? Had he known that, he would have done something a hell of a lot sooner. Turning back to his phone he smirked. Time to have fun.
No…she’s gorgeous, just not who I was expecting
Pulling himself over to the brunette, he hovered over her, his heart beating wildly as he dragged his fingers softly over her collarbone, his breath hitching as a vision of her leaning over him flashed before his eyes, her hair a wild tumble down her back as soft skin slid over his. Flicking covetous irises over her, he leaned over, brushing his lips over her cheek as he pressed his nose to her temple and inhaled, groaning when his phone chattered insistently. Seriously…what part of woman in his bed did Max not get?
Who is it? The blonde?
Frowning at the question, he thought back onto the night before, his lips twisting in disgust as he tried to recall who Max might be referring to, and hoped like hell he didn’t mean either Tess or Isabel because that was just disgusting. To hell with it. He totally deserved this. Maybe this will shut Max up long enough for Michael to enjoy this twist of fate.
Tossing the phone on his pillow, he snickered and let his pseudo brother chew on that answer for a while, smirking as he imagined Max’s horrified expression. Turning back to Liz, he knew he had a few moments before Max scraped his jaw off the floor after that comment; so he might as well enjoy the view. Lowering his body next to hers, he inhaled sharply as she curled back up against him, and rested her head on his chest, tangling one leg with his, as he tried to figure out how the hell they’d ended up here.
Smoothing a hand over the curve of her back, his head swam, yet more visions filling his mind; watching her and Tess grind together, his blood burning with jealousy as some random guy came up to her and pressed himself into her back, sandwiching her between him and the blond; him getting out of his chair, dragging Liz away into the hall; her pushing back at him, glaring at him fiercely and him pushing her against the wall as their lips crashed together, her body pinned tightly to his.
Drawing a breath as the images continued to wash over him, his breath staggered as she shoved him away, striding off with snarky words about not being his play toy; him storming after her and grabbing her around the waist; and then slinging her over his shoulder as he walked the two blocks to his house, shoving her through the door and stalking her as she swallowed thickly, unwittingly backing herself into a corner.
Pulling away as his phone chimed, breaking through the connection, he panted and stared at her with wide eyes and shook his head to clear it, a little uncertain if whether, despite her actions, she even wanted to be there after all. At least he now knew how they got there.
The phone tinkled again, drawing his eyes from the sleeping brunette and he picked up the phone impatiently, getting tired of Max’s interference just when he seemed to be getting the answers he wanted. Quickly reading his message, he rolled his eyes and fired off another of his own.
You realize that if you hadn't spiked my drink while you mouthed "we're getting laid tonight," I wouldn't have woken up with your ex this morning. Just sayin’
Tossing it aside once more, he studied her pretty upturned face thoughtfully, wondering if he dared touch her again, a little worried if he’d get more flashes if he did. Scratching his brow agitatedly, he shrugged, only one way to find out.
Hesitantly he reached out a shaky hand and placed it tentatively on her arm, and stroking her skin absently, marveling at how silky it felt under his fingers; he didn’t think he had ever felt anything so fine. And once again he was overwhelmed by visions of them arguing, her words dripping with acid at first as she ticked off his supposed transgressions before being forced to swallow her words when he proved without a doubt that little bitch Pam was a lying skank; and no he didn’t, wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.
And Liz had stood there, silently assessing him, startled that he had managed to get so close during their argument. And then their lips met and meshed and burned against each other, igniting his very soul; words of attraction and love spilled between them, falling droplets of precious rain on a hot desert night. And then…
The annoying chirp of the phone filled his ears, making him growl in frustration as it yet again cut through his visions. Fucking Max. He’d always had piss poor timing.
I can’t believe you.
Max couldn’t believe him? Honestly, he was the asshole who had gotten him drunk, not the other way around. If Max wanted to blame something or someone, he need look no further than the ‘happy juice’ he slipped into Michael’s drink last night.
Glowering at the offending object, he gave one, small, evil smirk before sending his next message, just knowing that it would send the other man into an apoplectic fit. Served the runt right after ensuring Michael’s hangover and his subsequent bout of amnesia of what he was sure had been the best night of his life.
Sorry dude. You lost her; I’m keeping her.
Snickering as he sent that note off, he startled when the brunette beauty finally stirred, a low sigh falling over her lips as she nuzzled his chest with a tiny purr, seeking warm skin on this cold morning. Smiling as she whispered his name again, he quickly sent off a last text before powering the phone down; he may not remember much about last night, but he sure as hell was perfectly sober now and he had no intentions of letting this opportunity slip away. They had all day to explore those intriguing flashes of memory.
Love to chat, but Sleeping Beauty has awoken and there is something I'm desperately curious about. Later Max.