They’re stumbling down a street that looks like it could be familiar, if it’d stop spinning and doubling up on itself, and Vaughn feels the urge to stop and check to see if the floor actually is roiling like he thinks it is. So he does.
Unfortunately, he completely forgets that Rhys is leaning against him.
When Vaughn suddenly stops and squats to press one hand on the grimy pavement, he barely has enough time to marvel at how odd it feels to see his own hand waver and distort where the pavement feels completely solid, before he hears an “Oh, fuck” and then he’s got elbows all over him, pushing him to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
“…Bro,” Vaughn wheezes when he gets his breath back. He pushes himself up slowly, squinting against the sickening lurch of the world around him. There’s an elbow in his lap, uncomfortably close to certain areas, and he jerks back. A bit too late to actually do anything about it, but.
Half sprawled out on his lap, face against Vaughn’s knee, Rhys moans, “Why’d you stop?”
“The floor…is the floor moving?” Vaughn asks, slowly cracking one eye open wider only to hurriedly shut it again at the way the yellow of Rhys’ right arm seems to be melting into a puddle. “Why’s your arm moving like that?”
“My arm—it’s not moving…is it? Am I moving my arm? I don't…I don't think I’m moving my arm.”
Vaughn feels Rhys’ elbow nudge threateningly close to his groin again, but he’s too dizzy to move away this time. To his relief, Rhys’ weight lifts off him, and then a hand’s nudging at his face.
“Bro, you gotta get back up, man. We’re sitting on the street! Like hooligans! What if security comes?” Rhys’ voice is slurred, but very sincere, and very panicked.
“Okay, okay, help me out, bro,” is what Vaughn intends to say, but what comes out is a mumbled mishmash of consonants.
Luckily, Rhys seems to know what he’s saying, because there’s a hand tugging Vaughn up, and a muffled grunt. “Bro, come onnnn!”
Together, they stumble to a somewhat vertical position somehow. Vaughn squints around, finally daring to open his eyes. His suspicions were right; they’re on a very familiar looking street, standing in front of a very familiar looking building.
“Heeey, did we teleport home?”
Beside him, Rhys stumbles a little, and hunches down, rubbing his face against the top of Vaughn’s head.
“Man bro, what conditioner do you use?” Rhys sniffs, the sound loud and obnoxious so close to Vaughn’s ear. “Smells nice. How’s your hair so soft?”
“You use too much hair gel, bro, I’ve told you this before.” Vaughn straightens up, sighing. Rhys is a heavy weight against his right side, warm and comforting against the chill of the night air.
“Come on, let’s go home.”
Unlocking the door and getting both their (somewhat more sober, but still considerably drunk) selves into their apartment takes quite a bit of finagling, but they manage it, somehow. And by “somehow” Vaughn means he does all the heroic work while Rhys slumps over his back, hands wandering over Vaughn’s chest, and whines about his butt being cold.
“Why’s my butt so cold? Did I sit on ice? My butt’s cold, Vaughn. So cold. Vauuuughn.”
Vaughn, upright only by virtue of his leaning nearly all his weight on the door, is too busy trying to get his keys to fit into the lock to reply, which Rhys takes as an invitation to whine some more.
“You’re my best bro, buddy boy, do you know that?” Rhys nuzzles into the crook of Vaughn’s neck, lips and hair ticklish and distracting Vaughn from his quest to find the right key. “As my best buddy…wait. Best bro. As my bestest bro, you gotta…” He trails off, humming, as his left hand slides into Vaughn’s pants.
“I gotta…?” Vaughn prompts, pausing from where he’s forcing a key into the lock to watch the exploration of Rhys’ hand with fascination. Ten minutes earlier he would’ve sworn he was too drunk to get hard, but Rhys’ hand, now wrapped around his dick and massaging it, makes a very compelling argument.
“Hm?” Rhys’ hand pauses as he contemplates Vaughn’s question, which is the exact opposite of what Vaughn wanted.
“Nooo, bro, why’d you stop?” Vaughn shifts his shoulder, nudging at Rhys petulantly, even as he goes back to trying to fit his key into the lock. Which feels like a metaphor, or something.
Rhys’ hand obligingly goes back to moving, which feels very nice indeed, as he hums contemplatively, and says. “My bestest bro. You should. My butt is cold, bro. Needs your hands on it. Heh. Butt.” He bends down, and starts mouthing at Vaughn’s neck.
“Hnngh yeah okay, inside, we should—why won’t this door unlock?” Vaughn jiggles the key exasperatedly, and to his surprise, it actually works, the key clicks in, and turns easily.
“Woah ho hey, who’s awesome? I’m awes—” Vaughn’s cheering is cut off when he turns the doorknob, and the door supporting both him and Rhys opens inwards.
Right, maybe they should’ve leaned on something other than their door before opening it.
As it is, they fall to the floor in a jumble of limbs and yelping, and when Vaughn’s able to lift his face off where it’s pressed to the floor, he feels Rhys’ body lying atop his, face against the middle of Vaughn’s back, and hips pressed somewhere against the backs of Vaughn’s knees.
“Yeah. Ow.” Vaughn agrees, feeling the alcoholic haze in his mind clear a little bit as he rescues his glasses from where they’d fallen off to the side. Turns out losing your balance and nearly faceplanting on the floor gives you quite a shock of adrenaline, who knew?
Above him, Rhys squirms, wriggling his way up and elbowing Vaughn in the back very inconsiderately until he’s fully draped over Vaughn, mouth pressed against the side of Vaughn’s face.
“I love you, bro.” Rhys mumbles, the smell of alcohol on his breath making Vaughn grimace.
“Love you too, bro.” Vaughn replies, reaching up and behind him so he can pet at Rhys’ head fondly.
In response, Rhys sighs, and nudges his hips against Vaughn’s butt deliberately, which feels nice, really nice, and wow, Rhys definitely has a head start on him in the erection department.
“Bro, we should…we should close the door,” Vaughn says, somewhat breathlessly. Rhys is skinny, but with the way he’s draped over Vaughn, it feels like he weighs a ton. It’s nice, comforting almost, but now that he’s beginning to sober up, he’s getting aware of the fact that their door is wide open, and that anybody in the hallway who walks by will be treated to a view of Rhys’ skinny ass humping Vaughn. And by anybody, he means the nosy old man down the hallway who keeps ‘accidentally’ filching their mail.
Rhys scrambles up into a kneeling position beside Vaughn, leaning back to close the door. Taking advantage of his freedom, Vaughn turns over, until he’s lying on his back, pushing himself up on his elbows so he can watch Rhys move.
The way Rhys is leaning back to reach the edge of the door is…flattering, to say the least. The blue shirt he’d taken two hours to pick out before they left for the party is by now rumpled and barely tucked in, and rides up as Rhys stretches further to reveal a flash of pale skin that Vaughn really wants to get his mouth on. He’s tempted to reach forwards to touch it, feel the softness of the skin there, but before he can, Rhys catches hold of the edge of the door and slams it shut with a crow of triumph.
“Bro!” Rhys straightens up, and his shirt drops back down, to Vaughn’s disappointment. “Door’s closed, can I please suck you off now?” He grins down at Vaughn, hands already going back to the front of Vaughn’s pants. Vaughn likes to think he’s a strong person but this…Rhys, grinning dopily at Vaughn in his stupidly nice blue shirt, hair all rumpled beyond control, bending down to kiss Vaughn before straightening so he can fumble at Vaughn’s belt, the way he frowns and bites at his lower lip as he focuses...
Honestly, Vaughn’s fucked when it comes to his best bro, but he’s come to terms with it long ago.
“Yeah, go ahead, bro, I’m definitely not stopping you,” Vaughn laughs shakily, and shifts his weight so he can help Rhys with his pants.
Once his pants are open, Rhys pulls his cock out with a happy sigh. “Man bro, I forgot how much I liked your dick,” is the last comprehensible thing he says before he’s bending down and mouthing at the head, planting warm, wet kisses along the side before sliding back up to take Vaughn into his mouth.
“You’re uh, you’re welcome?” Vaughn snickers, and runs the hand not currently holding his upper body up through Rhys’ hair affectionately. It comes away sticky with hair gel, because of fucking course Rhys wouldn’t leave the house without a metric ton of hair gel on his head, but it still feels nice, and he continues to card his fingers through Rhys’ hair. Maybe that has more to do with the way Rhys moans and tilts his head, eyes half-closing as he lets Vaughn’s dick fall out of his mouth so he can rub his head against Vaughn’s hand.
It makes for a pretty picture, even if it only cements Vaughn’s conviction that Rhys is actually a cat or something.
Then Rhys shakes Vaughn’s hand off, scowling, and says, “Stop distracting me!” before bending back down.
Laughing, Vaughn lies back to enjoy his blowjob. By this time, the alcoholic haze has mostly worn off, leaving only a pleasant warmth low in his gut that goes very nicely with the hot wetness of Rhys’ mouth around his dick. He murmurs encouragement to Rhys, hands reaching down to pat absently at Rhys’ shoulders and to cradle his face. Rhys barely seems to need the encouragement, going by the way he’s humping Vaughn’s leg even as he enthusiastically bobs up and down, but Vaughn does it anyway, praises and gasps dropping from his lips as he feels himself wash closer to orgasm with every bob of Rhys’ head.
“Fuck, that feels good, do it again,” Vaughn whimpers, struggling not to thrust up as Rhys obligingly goes all the way down and swallows, once, twice, throat tightening around Vaughn in a way that feels really fucking good.
When Rhys pulls off, he doesn’t go back down immediately, but taps at Vaughn’s stomach with his metal hand until Vaughn picks his head up and makes eye contact with him.
“Bro,” Rhys says, very seriously, and Vaughn tenses up, suddenly worried because Rhys rarely, if ever, looks this serious. Especially not while in the middle of sex.
“Yeah?” He says, trying to project Understanding and Careful Listening even as he’s getting distracted by the sight of his dick bobbing in the air not two inches from Rhys’ serious expression.
“Bro. We should get a new microwave.” Rhys says, all the while keeping intense eye contact with Vaughn.
Before Vaughn can even wrap his head around Rhys’ statement, Rhys starts snickering, no, giggling, like he didn't just interrupt a really fantastic blowjob to talk about kitchen appliances.
“Oh my god, bro, your face,” he gets out in between a giggle and a snort, before bending back down to Vaughn’s dick, still snickering, even as he presses a kiss to Vaughn’s dick. “I’m not kidding though, we really do need a new microwave. The old one smells like socks and farts, it’s gross”
“Bro…I’m gonna kick your ass, you’re such a fucking nerd,” Vaughn mumbles, one hand going up to cover his face in embarrassment. Embarrassment for Rhys or for himself, he’s not entirely sure, but definitely embarrassment.
“Yeah?” Rhys laughs, warm breath huffing out against Vaughn’s dick. “What you gonna do? Spank me?”
Vaughn pushes himself up, and glares down at Rhys through the smudgey fingerprints on his glasses. It’s a half-hearted glare, mostly because of the way Rhys is grinning at him, eyes soft and open mouth still pressed against Vaughn. “You’d like that, you kinky little shit.”
“Heh. Not like you wouldn’t like spanking me either,” Rhys says, waggling his eyebrows at Vaughn.
Snorting, Vaughn lies back again, not bothering to deny it. “Oh my god, just…get on with it, bro. Time’s a wasting, we’re growing old, your hair’s turning grey even as I—oh, fuck!” He chokes out as Rhys, still shaking in silent laughter, gets down to business.
The thing about Rhys is. Okay, so this sounds dumb, but Vaughn’s being completely serious here.
The thing about Rhys is that he likes giving blowjobs, and Vaughn really isn’t exaggerating when he says Rhys really likes it. Like, really really likes it. Multiple times, Rhys has come just from sucking Vaughn off, which…is kinda flattering, to be honest. Vaughn’s tried asking him once before, what exactly is it about blowjobs that Rhys likes so much? He hadn’t really gotten a coherent answer then, but maybe he should’ve asked at a better time. Like, say, when Rhys wasn’t panting and writhing as Vaughn fucked the living daylights out of him.
Man, that had been fun though.
Either way, Vaughn’s point is that Rhys...Rhys is like a blowjob. Hot, kinda sloppy at his best, and Vaughn's favourite thing to come to after a long day.
Vaughn's point is that Rhys really likes blowjobs. And he’s really, really good at them. So when Vaughn comes within two minutes, it’s less a statement about his stamina (which is perfectly fine, thank you very much) and more a testament to Rhys’ skill.
When Vaughn has enough energy to sit up again, he looks down to see Rhys, come painted in stripes across his dazed and flushed expression, sitting up and fumbling at his dick.
“Here, bro, I got you,” Vaughn says, reaching down and grabbing Rhys by the armpits to pull him up towards Vaughn.
“Man, you’re really buff,” Rhys giggles breathlessly, before leaning down to kiss Vaughn. It’s messy and sticky, and Vaughn’s never really liked the taste of come, but Rhys’ mouth is soft and warm, and the way he sighs against Vaughn’s lips more than makes up for the bitter, salty taste. He continues to kiss Rhys as he reaches down with one hand to help Rhys pull out his dick. His other hand comes up to cradle Rhys’ face, holds him still so Vaughn can taste the sweet, familiar Rhys-taste that lies beneath the come and alcohol.
“Mmph, lemme—” Rhys pulls away with one last nip at Vaughn’s mouth, and sits up, hands going down to unbutton Vaughn’s shirt. Vaughn obligingly helps him, taking over and unbuttoning the last few ones when Rhys gets distracted by his abs. Not that he’s complaining; it’s nice to get some appreciation for his hard work at the gym.
“Bro…you have like, really nice abs.” Rhys says, left hand rubbing absently at Vaughn’s abs. Before Vaughn can make a joke about being hard for Rhys, Rhys leans forwards, planting his hands down on either side of Vaughn’s head. “Can you- can you tense up for me?”
Confused, Vaughn does so, tensing up until the lines of his abs stand out sharply. To his flattered bemusement, Rhys moans at that, and begins to rut against Vaughn’s abs, dick leaving sticky smudges of pre-come over them as he grinds down.
What’s even more flattering is that Rhys comes in less than a minute, movements picking up speed and turning frantic as he thrusts against Vaughn’s abs, breath hitching as he whimpers. When he comes, its with his eyes screwed shut and mouth open and red and so soft looking, and Vaughn can’t do anything but stroke along Rhys’ slim torso and stare up at him in wonder.
Then Rhys collapses, pressing his face against Vaughn’s cheek and sighing happily as the movements of his hips slowly still, until his entire body weight is relaxed on Vaughn.
…And then he promptly starts snoring, the usually soft sounds surprisingly loud in Vaughn’s ear.
Torn between laughter and indignation, Vaughn continues to pet Rhys’ sides absently, thinking idly that he should probably get them both to bed proper, because the floor isn’t exactly comfortable against his back. But Rhys’ warm weight on top of him is soothing, and while he debates the merits and demerits of getting up, he finds himself falling asleep as well.
The next morning, Vaughn wakes up with the deep conviction that something has died in his mouth, and its ghost is now taking vengeance by conducting renovations in his skull.
“Oh my god, why…”
Beside him, there’s a whimper, and then Rhys’ head pops up into Vaughn’s view.
“Don't…Stop moving, oh my god,” he whines, before faceplanting back onto Vaughn’s chest.
Vaughn lets out a muffled “Oof” at the impact, but the pounding of his head is a more pressing issue, and he squints up at the ceiling in consternation.
God, did they really fall asleep on the floor? That…that’s real classy, he thinks to himself. At least they closed the door before having sex. Wait, they did, right?
Panicked at the thought that their door might have been open all night, he lurches up, adrenaline fuelling the action. The relief that floods through his body when he sees that the door is safely shut lasts for all of two seconds, before his hangover pushes its way to the forefront again, and he curls up on his side, groaning.
Beside him, Rhys, who had been flung to the floor when Vaughn sat up, moans, “Why is everything so ow?”
Hunching down more into himself so he doesn’t give in to the impulse to throw up, Vaughn nods miserably, even though Rhys can’t see him.
They lie like that for way longer than is probably healthy, until Rhys somehow gathers the energy to sit up and prod Vaughn’s shoulder.
“Bro…shower, we should definitely shower. Yvette’s coming over later today, and she’ll give us that judgey look again if she catches us like this.”
Whining, Vaughn flaps a hand at Rhys to get him to stop talking so loud. “Okay, okay, just- shhh, please.”
When the doorbell rings, much later in the afternoon, Vaughn and Rhys fight over who has to get up and answer it. And by fight, Vaughn means they both huddle up even tighter into their blanket-ensconced position on the living room couch, and glare at each other silently.
Honestly, Vaughn doesn’t know why Yvette bothers ringing the doorbell when she has a key of her own, and spends half her free time over at their place anyway. Mostly he thinks its because she’s too lazy to take her keys out, but this time, neither he nor Rhys are gonna get up, not in a million years, so.
“Oh my god, are you two hungover?” Yvette’s voice rings out through the living room, and both Vaughn and Rhys hunch over, wincing.
“I told you Dahl’s party was a bad idea, seriously.” She walks to stand in front of the couch, and looks between Vaughn and Rhys with her arms crossed, a frown on her face that slowly melts into amusement. “God, you guys look so pathetic right now, hold still.”
Vaughn would like to point out that the chances of him actually moving are next to none right now, but his body vetoes talking. Vetoes it pretty hard, actually. Beside him, Rhys whines and feebly pulls his blanket over his face.
“Nuh uh, I’m so getting evidence of this. Gonna caption it, I told you so #281.” Yvette pushes Rhys’ hand down, and snaps a picture on her phone with a gleeful smirk.
Stepping back, she looks between the two of them, and sighs, shaking her head. Vaughn pulls his best puppy expression at her, silently pleading her to have mercy.
“God okay, okay fine. I can’t believe you taught Vaughn that hangdog look, Rhys, it’s terrible. Both of you at the same time, ugh, now I feel all sad for you and shit.” Yvette rolls her eyes, and walks back to the front door. “Your weird neighbor was poking at your letterbox again, by the way, so I got your mail for you on the way up.”
She comes back into view, tossing a bunch of envelopes on the coffee table, and holding—holy god in heaven, are those burgers?
“Food?” Vaughn mumbles, feeling Rhys perk up beside him.
“Yes, food.” Yvette snorts, gesturing between them. “Come on, make some space, nerds.”
They obligingly and painfully move over, until there’s enough space between them for Yvette to sit.
“Here, your favorites.” Yvette hands them their burgers, and puts her feet up on the coffee table, switching the television on and flipping through it despite Rhys and Vaughn’s whimpered protests at the noise. She finally settles on an old movie, one they’ve all watched multiple times over, and even turns the volume down, which together with the burgers, proves to Vaughn that Yvette is definitely his second favorite person.
Vaughn sits up to give Yvette a kiss on the cheek in thanks before starting on his burger. On the other side of Yvette, his number one favorite person mumbles a barely comprehensible “Thanks, Yvette” before starting on his own burger.
“Oh, boys.” Yvette sighs, before settling into the couch and going back to her movie.
Sitting there wrapped in his blanket with his two best friends next to him, familiar movie playing in the background and with the prospect of cuddles to come, Vaughn mentally gives himself a high-five.
Hangovers can kiss his ass, life is awesome.