76 - The Morning After

Fuck, he hated hangovers.

Jon’s head felt like a coconut being violated by an stampeding elephant.  Only, rather than being merciful by stomping the coconut and putting it out of its misery, the sadistic bastard was river dancing on it with flat, heavy feet.  It was one of the few times he’d considered big game hunting justifiable.

Gingerly rolling over in bed, he cracked open an eye to find that Delaney had either avoided the wrath of Irish pachyderms or had slain them in a bout of hungover bad-assery.  Regardless, she wasn’t in bed to commiserate about headaches. 

She’s half your size and drank just as much.  Don’t be a pussy.  Get the fuck up.

He swallowed a groan and rolled the other direction, letting his feet slide to the floor and using the momentum to sit himself upright. 

It’s motherfucking bright in here.  Where are my sunglasses and what time is it? 

Reaching for his watch, he was able to open his eyes enough see that it was ten-thirty.  He couldn’t remember what time they came to bed.  Hell, he could barely remember coming to bed.  There had been sex, though.  Of that he was sure.  Mou’s scent still lingered on him and aching muscles confirmed that his declaration of “I wanna play rough” hadn’t been a dream.

Maybe a shower would revive him enough to remember why the skin on his back was tingling with pain.  It would definitely eliminate the tequila stench that indicated he should be rolling out of a French gutter instead of French colonial bed.

Steam spilled out of the glass enclosure as his aching head was pummeled by pinpricks of water that coaxed the elephant into giving up his river dancing spotlight to an otter.  The otter had a persistently thumping tail, but at least Jon no longer worried that he'd leave a nasty explosion of brains and skull for the housekeeper.

His shoulders rolled gingerly, working out the kinks as shampoo runoff set his back on stinging fire.  On a normal day he would’ve complained to himself about the discomfort, but it paled in comparison to the rest of his hangover ailments and eventually faded under the flow of clean water. 

A quiet tap on the shower door had him twisting toward it with a narrowed look. 

Please God, don’t let her want to talk to me yet.  I need coffee and Advil before I can tolerate anything but silence.

Delaney looked only marginally better than he felt, with pallid features, a mess of piled-up hair and one of his t-shirts knotted over the hip of her jeans.  But when she held up a coffee mug….  In his eyes, she glowed like a radiant angel of mercy.    

“It’ll be on the sink with the Advil.  When you get dried off, I can put ointment on those scratches, but you might want to stay up here for a while.  The kitchen has loud people.”

His eyes fell shut with relief.  She really did love him.

Managing to grunt an acknowledgement and thanks, Jon went back to the hot water while his angel of mercy floated soundlessly away. 

*****

“Well?  Did he say he would?”

Knowing that Renee was just excited, Delaney was kinder than she felt like being upon returning to the kitchen.  Certainly, kinder than she would’ve been if Petra or Pearl was the one asking. 

Fortunately, Pearl was busy whining to a husband that was reading the baseball scores on his phone, and Petra and Sean had already taken off for the city.   Max was still in the guest house either asleep or showering, while Matt and David had gone to their own homes last night.

She had hopes of soon convincing the malingerers that the party was over.  Ever since forming her first coherent thoughts this morning, Hugo’s video was among them.  Maybe once everyone was gone, she could finally decide whether or not to watch it. 

“He needs a little more time to recuperate,” she explained apologetically in her temporary role of hostess. “I haven’t asked yet.”

Her sister-in-law was quick to reassure, “Okay.  No pressure.”

Delaney knew Jon would grant Renee's wish for a hug.  Pearl had gotten a kiss after all, which Delaney and Jon hadn't even mentioned last night.  They hadn't needed to.  She wasn't insecure by nature, and besides.  All it took was one look in his eyes to know she was the one he wanted and wanted fiercely.  

On the way to the bedroom, he’d growled in her ear that he wanted to “play rough", which was always fine by her.  That’s what they did every time, right?   Last night, though, it wasn’t only his mouth that was uncensored.  “Rough” took on a new slant that had her sore from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes and all the best places in between. 

Those four Advil she’d taken this morning weren’t for her hangover, but Delaney was still smiling.  The man knew more about her fantasies than she did, and he freeping sure knew how to make them come true. 

“Laney, that prom was way better than any teenage variety,” Pearl sighed after she’d finished whining.  “Boyfriend is just about perfect.  Do you realize what a lucky bitch you are?”

Finally looking up from the ESPN app, Todd made his presence known.  “Uh, hello?  Husband in the house.  Act a little damn thankful for what you’ve got, woman.”

Snickering while leaning gingerly against the kitchen island, Delaney watched her friend’s eyes roll in a zig-zag formation.  There weren’t many men who would’ve put up with Pearl’s feistiness, but her high school sweetheart was equally feisty.  The two of them would make anyone else nuts.

“Oh, please Hub-bub.  You know I’m ecstatic to have you, but jeez.  If you had JBJ’s money, you’d do something stupid like buy the Yankees, not fulfill my adolescent dream.”

“That’s because I am your adolescent dream.”

“What.  Ever.”  An affectionate smile and jabbing elbow belied her sarcasm.  She really did love the guy who was now huffing about a mid-season trade notification.  “Lanes, did you kill him with gratitude?  Is that why he’s not coming down?  You’re keeping his cold, dead corpse under cover until we’re gone, aren’t you?”

“Oh for the love of-“

“Jesus Christ, Pearl,” the allegedly deceased drawled, strolling into the room with his empty cup and making a beeline to refill it.  “You’re a gruesome one, aren’t you?  Todd, I’d be concerned, man.”

“It’s why I don’t have life insurance,” the other man revealed blandly.  “She’d bump me off for forgetting the milk.”

“Damn straight.”

Pearl’s complete lack of apology made Delaney laugh, but it softly faded as Jon sidled up to hook an arm around her waist and murmur, “Mornin’, baby.  Thank you.”

“Mm,” she hummed contentedly, turning so that it wasn’t her cheek beneath his lips.  “Morning.  Do me a favor and show Renee a little affection?  She’s jealous of your moves on the dance floor with Pearl.”

“She got a pre-nup with my name in it, too?”  With one set of fingers curled around the handle of his mug and the other buried in Delaney’s back pocket, he pinned Renee with a look.  “Your husband gonna kick my ass over a kiss?”

Delaney chuckled softly, not only at Jon’s wariness but the possibility that Max might.  He wasn’t quite as laid back as Jon and Todd about his woman lip-locking another man. 

“He’s still in the guesthouse, but I was thinking more along the lines of a hug and a selfie.”

“Guess I should’ve shaved, then.”

Tipping her chin up to check out the jaw he was now rubbing instead of her butt, Delaney couldn’t imagine that it would improve his looks any.  Yes, he was wearing a Notre Dame t-shirt and shorts, but he’d brushed his hair after showering, and there was nothing sexier than stubble on a sexy man. 

Renee was quick to agree from the table.  “Oh, no.  The way you are is just fine.”

“Well, come here, then,” Jon invited with a smile bigger than he felt like giving, and Delaney’s heart melted at the edges.  He was such a good guy.  “And bring your phone.  Mou will take the picture.”

Jon would be glad when this party was over.  While downing the Advil, he’d remembered the flash drive from Paramedic not-so-Prick.  Mou must be getting anxious to see it, and by proxy, so was he.

It didn’t stop him from tucking the strawberry-blonde sister-in-law with the big smile under his arm and posing for the camera, though.  Nor did it prevent him from planting a kiss against her temple before going back to his coffee and plotting how to send these guests on their way.

“Uh…  I didn’t get a pic,” Pearl pouted. 

Shit.  Photo ops in my own kitchen.

He was careful not to let the thought show but huffed playfully, “Get your ass over here.”

Pearl wasn’t as tall as Renee, and her sleek head snuggled into his shoulder as the woman wrapped vine-like arms around him.  Her smile was befitting a shark at a chum convention as Delaney snapped a couple of shots, but it faded along with the flash. 

“Dude,” she told him with a gentle pat against his stomach.  “Thanks for the invite and for taking care of my girl.  You’re good peeps.  Screw your bodyguard, man.  I will seriously fuck up anybody who tries to say different.”

Okay, so she was a royal pain in the ass, but Pearl was also “good peeps”. 

“Damn.  You're bein' nice to me?  You must be anglin’ for a job as tour photographer.” he teased.

“Hadn’t thought about it, but duh.  Fuck yeah!”

He'd been joking, but their usual photographer wasn’t going to make the trip to Japan and Australia with them this time.  The Hamptons pictures he'd seen were good.  Did he dare invite this little cyclone of attitude along for the ride?  

“If you’re free between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’ll think about it.  If you convince Delaney to come, too.”

His souley dispatched a scathing look meant to wither.  “You could ask me yourself, yanno.”

“Okay.  Wanna go to Japan and Australia for a couple weeks?”

Dimples flickered to life, but Delaney wasn’t quite as hyped as the little woman bouncing around the kitchen squealing, “We’re going on tour with Bon Jovi!  Eat that, fuckers!”

His Mou was far more mellow when drawling, “I don’t know.  I’ll think about it.”

Hangover and all, Jon couldn’t hold back his first real grin of the morning.