fanofthegenre | OOM: France and the morning after.

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OOM: France and the morning after.

[ late nights have early mornings ]

Beckett's an early riser by nature. Years of surviving on little to no sleep have equipped her for this kind of thing.

It's the reason why she's the first to wake up, blinking sleep from her eyes before she even realizes where she is or what's going on. The hangover hits next - a headache that starts to pound in her head, and she rolls over onto her back with a groan, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose with one hand.

Her other is pinned, for some reason, and she pries it out from underneath - Bill?

She blinks a few more times, and slowly, the events of last night come back in a rush - of sweat, skin, sex. It still hangs in the air, on her body, around the three of them, and she mouths a quiet oh, my God before she staggers off to the bathroom to splash some water on her face.

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It might be the light coming in through the edge of the curtains, or Beckett's movements beside him, or the ache that's drumming in his head, but something makes Bill stir and slowly drags him into consciousness.

He cracks an eye open, then shuts it quickly with a wince. His mouth is bone dry, his stomach is churning on itself, and everything, including his thoughts and memories, are fuzzy around the edges.

Hangover.

Reaching his hand up he scrubs it over his face, then tries to get his eyes open again. It takes a bit of blinking, and he only manages to get his eyelids cracked halfway before things come into a hazy focus.

The sight of Kate sleeping next to him makes him smile, and his eyes wander down what's exposed of her body.

Leaving her to sleep a bit longer he carefully gets out of bed and shuffles towards the bathroom.

Turning the knob he steps in and smacks into--

"Kate?"

Only, not his Kate.

She doesn't turn on a whole lot of lights, seeing as how that won't do her hangover any good at all. Instead, she turns on the faucet, cupping her hands under the stream, and splashes some water over her face.

There's a small cup by the sink, too, which she fills up once she's done toweling off, and downs the whole thing in a few quick gulps.

Her goal is to tiptoe back out, find what she can of her clothes, and then sneak back into her own room before either of them wake up.

Of course, nothing ever really goes as planned.

She's not exactly wearing anything in the clothing department. Neither is he. And they pretty much walked right into each other.

"Yeah," she says, frantically reaching out for something to cover herself - which happens to be a towel hanging behind the bathroom door. "Um, hi."

His eyes go down, then quickly jump back up and focus on the air above her head. It only takes him half a second to realize that she's not the only one not wearing anything and his hands quickly go to his front to cover up.

"Whoa! Hey, hi-- uh... "

He's frantic a moment and backpedals quickly out of the bathroom.

"Sorry!"

"No, it's -"

He's already out of the bathroom, and she puffs up her cheeks, breathing out in a quick huff of breath, and then catches a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

'Hell' doesn't even begin to cover what she looks like right now.

Making a stealthy exit might be tough at this point. The towel still around her, she walks out of the bathroom.

He's looking for something to put on, but none of the clothes he sees on the floor are his.

Beckett might get a quick moon as Bill moves for a dresser and quickly pulls out a pair of sweats to put on.

Mind racing through the pounding in his skull, things are starting to click into place from last night, and something that's fairly close to panic is building in his chest.

"Holy shit."

Kate stirs, back stiffening then relaxing against the sheets as she burrows deeper into her pillow.

It's warm and it smells like Bill and salt and sex and --

Sex?

Her brain is slow to take stock of the headache building behind her closed eyes and the familiar protest in the muscles of her thighs.

With a deep, resigned breath, she props herself up on her elbows, wincing in the early-morning sunlight.

God, she needs a glass of water or three.

And aspirin.

Lots of aspirin.

Edited 2009-11-08 07:28 (UTC)

The plan is to grab clothes. Grab clothes and then make a beeline for the door. And then, maybe, stand under the shower spray for a good hour or so.

Only problem is: it's kind of difficult to find clothes when they only really consist of your underwear.

And then Kate stirs.

Beckett freezes in her crouch, one hand hovering over her bra on the floor.

Bill is giving Beckett a very wide berth, sticking to the far edge of the room and keeping his eyes anywhere but on her towel clad form.

He spots her panties near one of the bed legs, but doesn't know if he should point it out or not.

Before he can decide, Kate stirs on the bed and he goes as still as Beckett does.

She swipes a few tangled strands of hair from her face, stifling a yawn and mentally cataloging just how hungover she is when she turns her head.

And blinks.

"Morning, Kate."

Her voice is hoarse, an alcohol-dry rasp, and her brain is muddy.

"S'it late? Did Bill go out to grab breakfast?"

"Morning."

Okay, there's a slight possibility that she hasn't figured out what's going on, which means that Beckett might be able to escape relatively easily.

Until she asks about Bill.

"Uh, no, he's--"

She points to the opposite corner of the room.

He can hear Kate's confusion and for a brief moment he considers trying to get away without admitting what happened last night.

Obviously that's not going to happen, but he's still not going to say much of anything until he has to.

"Mornin'."

He gives Kate an awkward wave and a smile; his eyes never really meeting hers.

She turns to glance over her shoulder, regretting the movement when her brain shrieks in protest.

Several facts tumble into place at once: she's naked, she's naked in front of Beckett, and Bill's shirtless.

She turns (carefully) back to Beckett --

Who's wearing a towel, and --

Oh.

"Oh."

And there it is. She's not surprised when Kate puts the pieces together as quickly as she does; that's just her, plain and simple.

"Yeah," she says, in a sigh.

It's all she can say, really, right now.

Kate's got it, and Bill sticks to his plan to keep quiet.

Reaching up, he runs his hand through his hair. Though he glances in each of their general directions, he never actually looks at them, and can't voice the question on his mind.

What do they do now?

After a long, awkward silence he clears his throat and asks quietly, "Anyone need an aspirin?"

Snapshots from last night flash into slow focus.

Kissing Beckett, touching her, the way she and Bill felt and tasted under Kate's hands and mouth, the way it felt to be sandwiched between them, how Bill and Beckett looked together --

She swallows hard and tugs up the sheet, rolling and slowly shifting into a sitting position.

Dark spots of color stain her cheeks, and she runs a hand that's not entirely steady through her impressive case of bedhead.

"I'd love a couple."

Even the few sips of water she's taken already have helped; she declines the offer of aspirin, and then realizes she's still crouched on the floor. She reaches down, then, to pick up what remains of her clothes out here - just now remembering that everything else is still downstairs - the poker game.

She clears her throat, too, and shakes her head.

"Yeah, um - I think I'm just going to take a shower, for now."

"All right, I'm gonna, uh... get some water from downstairs."

Because the bottled water in the fridge is better than tap, not because he's running away.

He's moving a half-pace quicker than usual, and gives Beckett a very wide berth, keeping his eyes directed away, when he passes on his way out of the room, but he's not running.

Right.

Kate's eyes follow Bill's retreating form, tracing the red parallel lines above one of his shoulder blades, and when she glances at Beckett again, she sees the telltale marks along Beckett's neck and shoulders and near her collarbone.

A dry swallow, and she offers a weak smile.

"Shower's good. I'll -- I'll make coffee."

"Coffee," Beckett echoes, and then nods slowly, encouragingly.

It's a good start, at the very least, and she heads down the hallway to the guest bathroom, prepared to stand under the spray for as long as she needs.

Twenty minutes later, after doing her best to cover up where she can (though there's still some obvious marks peppering along the side of her neck), she reappears in the kitchen, wet hair pulled up and away from her face, looking a little more awake and alert than she was upon first waking up.

Bill is sitting at the kitchen table, fully clothed now in jeans and a Colts T-shirt, with a cup of coffee.

He's put together what happened last night, from the wine and the poker game to the trip upstairs and everything that happened afterwards. Images pass through his mind of him and Kate and Beckett as he stares into his mug, and he keeps chasing them out as he tries to think and figure out what to do about this.

He's nervous, and embarrassed, and there's a guilt shaped knot in his gut.

When Beckett walks in he looks up and gives her a smile, trying hard to make it casual and normal.

"Hey."

Kate's at the counter, hair in a careless knot and sporting a camisole and a faded pair of plaid pajama pants beneath her robe. Her hands are curled around a steaming cup of coffee, and she's still waiting for the aspirin to kick in when Bill greets Beckett.

She turns and flashes another tiny, tentative smile before pouring a mug of coffee for Beckett.

"Here," she says, voice soft and empathetic.

"Hey."

She offers a tired grin, but a grin nonetheless, as well as a nod, idly reaching up with one hand to check and make sure that her hair is still staying in one piece. She's never been one for doing anything in the way of styling it, most days.

She accepts the coffee from Kate with a small, grateful smile.

"Thanks," she murmurs sincerely.

"Got sugar here if you want any," He offers, nudging the sugar bowl near his mug on the table.

He takes a drink and looks at the two of them, then cuts his eyes away back to the table, busying his hands with adding more sugar to his cup.

"No thanking -- we all need it."

She retrieves her cup from the counter and moves to take a seat at the table, her free hand giving Bill's shoulder a brief squeeze as she passes him.

Taking a sip of coffee, she swallows and glances between Bill and Beckett.

"How'd -- "

A pause, and a sudden sound rises in Kate's throat, something between a soft bark and a snort.

"Oh my god, I almost just asked how you slept."

Cheeks flaming, she covers her mouth with one hand and averts her eyes from Beckett, desperate not to laugh.

Beckett's torn between laughter - and, well, there really isn't another option for her at the moment.

She hides what remains of her smile by blowing over the top of her coffee and then, after a while, taking a sip.

"Not terribly. All things considered."

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