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He didn't protest as she hugged him to her, but didn't really reciprocate it either. It wasn't that he objected, so much as it really had taken him that long to realize what was going on and for the realization to kick in that when someone hugged you, you ought to hug them back.

Thin arms closed around her back clumsily as she spoke. "Where are they?" he asked, reflexively shivering a bit as her fingertips drew what felt like a crooked star at the base of his neck.

His ears went from a sort of lopsided attentive perk to folding back against his head. She.....was doing that on purpose, his brain managed to put enough resources together to declare triumphantly, receiving a resounding 'No s**t, Sherlock' from the rest of him.

He arched his back a bit as chill tickled up his spine, feeling a distant flutter that was his deeply-muffled anxiety screaming and thrashing somewhere under all of the vodka he'd dumped on it.

"So...uh..." he started to say, losing the thought just as quickly as he'd caught it and resorting to blinking at her dumbly for a moment.

"Uhm..." his brow furrowed, trying in vain to catch the disappearing tail of his train of thought as it plunged back into his subconscious. Not that she was helping things much. The wash of breath on his skin made him draw in a faint gasp, his hold reflexively tightening on her.

"......dunno." he said at last, barely-audible and vaguely-apologetic. On their own, the fingers of one hand kneaded between her shoulders, clearly not sure of what they were doing but seeking a good place to start.

For someone who lamented the fact he'd never date as much as Kendall did, and, therefore, had given himself plenty of time to think up scenarios such as the one he now found himself in with various nameless girls that dwelt in his head, he remained clueless as to what to actually -do- in such a situation.

As she effectively pinned him to the couch, he faltered, swallowing through a throat that felt dry. It wasn't nerves that held him back so much as it was muddled frustration. To his credit, though, he was rolling with it a lot better than he would ordinarily.

Encouraged by her reactions, his hands found either of her shoulders, rubbing and kneading at them, finding himself faintly surprised at the unyielding firmness that laid beneath her flesh. She really hadn't been kidding about the metal thing....

....and? his brain poked him.

....and nothing, he concluded, not wavering in his task for the moment.

His muscles locked at the feeling of her lips on his. It was one of those pivotal moments in one's life that you were supposed to remember forever. It was glamorized to happen after a shy first date, or on a walk in the park, or by moonlight.

Assuming he even WOULD remember, Ken wondered blearily what all the songwriters and poets would think of -this- scenario -- tangled up on the couch with a girl he was just starting to be friends with, wasted, and her not faring much better.

Her curiosity caught to his own, however, as he tentatively returned the gesture. He tilted his head into the kiss as the movements on her shoulders stilled in favor of pulling her closer.

The details of the rest of the night were lost in a heated black haze of nothing.


When Kendall awoke, it was nearly twelve hours later, to a muffled trilling emanating from his jeans pocket. His eyes cracked open only to squint closed again as the sunlight streaming into the living room smacked into them.

Ow....

The trilling persisted, making him grunt deeply, arching his back to have better access to its source. Finding the phone crammed up against his wallet, he withdrew it and squinted into its LCD face.



.....s**t. What time WAS it? Punching receive, he brought it to his ear.

"Hullo...?" he croaked.

"Kendall?" a strained-sounding female voice on the other end inquired, making him flinch. Jody, his manager, usually worked the closing shift. Every dealing he'd had with her, she'd been perfectly nice, but at the moment, it sounded like 'nice' was the last thing on her mind. "Is there a reason you're not here? You -are- scheduled for today..."

"My car died last night...." he groaned, forcing himself to sit up straighter, despite the whoopsy lurch his stomach gave.

"I'm sorry to hear that. But there -is- a bus route that comes out this way."

"I know..." ********, this was going to look great on his record. Rolling in late, hungover, probably smelling like a liquor cabinet.... "Look...um....let me grab a quick shower, I'll see if I can get a ride from my roommate, okay?"

"I want you here in thirty minutes." she told him in a clipped tone, hanging up.

Thirty minutes... he thought with flustered irritation as he closed the phone's cover again. What the ******** do I look like, a pizza? He didn't, however, blame her for being angry. This was his screw-up, after all, and he didn't think he'd particularly like having to cover someone else's shift because they were sleeping off a drinking binge somewhere.

Dropping the phone to the coffee table, he moved to get up with intentions of throwing himself into a shower and some clean clothes.

She wouldn't be blinded for long as Ken absently reached up to tug down the back of his shirt from where it was still bunched up between his shoulderblades somehow.

His head felt like it was in a vice, and the timer was ticking. He didn't need a commentary on how pale he wa--

He stopped short, finally registering Tourma still being there, and looked over his shoulder at her in muddled curiosity.

Why....was she topless?

His brain attempted to sift through the hazy fragments of the night before, coming up with nothing. He wanted to jump to the most favorable conclusion....which was that, in a fit of drunken passion, they had done all the things he'd always assumed were far out of his reach.

Instead, though, logic swiftly intervened. The air conditioning was on. And his body was tacky with dried sweat. They had probably passed out, Tourma had woken up and found it too hot, and had turned on the AC and, when that hadn't been enough, she'd stripped out of her shirt as well.

That made much more sense, really, in a hugely disappointing sort of way.

"I....uhm, I need to get a shower." he told her, yanking his eyes away and sounding somewhere between flustered and embarrassed. "I forgot I had work today."

"Ten thirty" he called over his shoulder, already having mounted the stairs. ShitshitshitshitshitSHIT! His body was already protesting being forced to be active this soon after waking, but he couldn't make it move fast enough.

He was halfway undressed by the time he made it to the bathroom door, shouldering it open and clumsily reaching for the shower faucet to twist on the spray.

She's not gonna fire you he tried to assure himself as he wriggled the rest of the way out of his rumpled clothes. She's NOT going to fire you, and you know why? Because all the seasonal clowns are gone, you've been there for almost four years, and she doesn't want to have to train some new guy when the place is understaffed as it is.

As he moved to step into the shower, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused a moment to investigate a strange bruise at the base of his neck. Had he done that last night at some point when he was dealing with the car? He reached up to touch it. It didn't hurt...

"Ken!!" Raven's voice snarled on the other side of the bathroom door suddenly, making him wince. "Why the hell didn't you get me up??"

This morning just got more and more awesome...