The problem with drinking? You don't sleep for long.
At least, I didn't.

I awoke to my bedside clock reading 8:00am; telling me I'd only slept for maybe four hours. Wraith was curled up at my feet, and didn't stir as I slowly eased myself upright. Boom; the effects of last night's alcohol consumption crashed into me like a ton of bricks. My head was throbbing, my throat dry and dehydrated, my stomach burning with an acidic combination of bile and hunger.

I dashed to my bathroom, crashing to my knees and emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl - better out than in - and felt slightly better. As I rinsed my mouth over the sink, I cringed at my reflection. I may have washed off my makeup last night, but that last stubborn bit of mascara I could never quite remove right away had smeared itself under my eyes as I'd slept. My skin looked dry, splotchy, and my hair was matted and disgusting.

I stripped myself of what little clothing I was wearing, and stepped into the shower, adjusting the knobs until the temperature was just right. The warm water rained down upon me, and I scrubbed my face and washed my hair, cleansing myself of the excess makeup and dried sweat from last night.

I found Wraith scratching at the door once I got out, and knelt down to let him lick my hand before I dressed myself. Sunday attire was always the same; oversized band tee, underwear, and knee-high socks. Nothing was more comfortable after a night out in tight jeans, a push-up bra, and combat boots.

I made my way downstairs and felt slightly disappointed when I didn’t immediately smell the scent of Bacon and Eggs wafting through the apartment. I’d forgotten Sparky hadn’t crashed here last night. He almost always stayed over after a night at Johnny’s, and him cooking me breakfast had become part of my Sunday morning routine.

Instead, I found Brian laying on the couch playing with his phone. Sometime after I’d crashed, he’d discarded his shirt, and I couldn’t help but admire how lusciously sculpted his body was. My eyes scanned over his arms, covered in crazy, colourful tattoos of monsters, and an evil tree looming over a graveyard. The word FOREVER spread across his chest in big, bold letters, and blueblood was scrawled beneath it.

“Nice ink.” I commented, breaking his attention away from his phone.
“Thanks.” he grinned. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” I replied, taking a seat on the couch and lighting my first smoke of the day. “Sleep well?”
“Reasonably well, better than I usually do these days.”
“Its a pretty comfortable couch.” I commented. “Almost passed out on it myself a few times.”
"How 'bout you?" he asked, setting his phone down and leaning across the couch to pull his own cigarettes out of his jacket. "Get a decent sleep?"
"Never do after a night out." I replied, blowing out smoke. "And waking up wasn't fun."
"Re-enacted the Exorcist?"
"A little, yeah." I chuckled. "Could seriously do with a good feed, though."
"Greasy food; miracle cure." he nodded.
"Sparky usually cooks me breakfast right about now." I frowned. "Kinda stinks knowing I'll have to fend for myself today."
"We could get an Uber to Denny's?" Brian suggested.
"I've spent enough money for one weekend." I snorted.
"My shout?"
"I really cannot be bothered going anywhere today, honestly."
"Fair enough." he nodded, tapping ash off his cigarette. "Offer's there for next time, though."
"You assume you'll be staying over again." I teased.
"You don't like my company?" he pouted.
Okay fuck, he is adorable... "You're alright."
"I am offering to shout breakfast next time."
"Okay, fair deal." I nodded. "Maybe if you play your cards right, I'll let you crash here again."
"And what cards would I need to play, exactly?" he smirked, raising an eyebrow as he brought his cigarette to his lips.
It is way too early in the morning for me to be so aroused; yet here we are... "You'll owe me a drink, and you have to come see the band playing next weekend at Johnny's."
"Done deal." he agreed, holding out his hand.
"Good lad." I nodded, and the two of us shook on it.
"Well, I dunno about you, but I could use a bite to eat." he said, snuffing his cigarette out as he finished it. "So I'm gonna get going."

He hoisted himself up from the couch and picked up his shirt, shrugging it back on and buttoning it up. Much to my dismay. I finished my own smoke and walked him over to the door, just as Wraith came came scurrying downstairs. He made a beeline for Brian, barking at him and trying to climb his leg.

"Seems someone doesn't want me to go." he chuckled, kneeling down to pet Wraith. "I gotta go, little guy."
Wraith let out a low whine, giving him the biggest guilt-trip expression ever.
"Aww." he cooed, straightening up.
"He's a right little sook, this one." I chuckled, opening the door.
"Thanks for letting me crash." Brian smiled, leaning in toward me and placing a soft peck on my cheek.
"No problem." I smirked.

I watched him go, and I had to admit, those tight jeans were extremely flattering. Good to know someone aside from Dominic had a decent sense of style. I couldn't take my eyes off his ass as he walked away.

Damn...

I closed the door and made myself a cup of coffee before heading back upstairs to my bedroom. I booted up my laptop, and did my usual morning social media rounds. My Facebook notifications were mostly Dominic tagging me in stupid memes, and I had about twenty unread messages from Rayleigh; scolding me for not texting her when I got home. I quickly typed out an apology, and assured her Brian hadn't murdered me.

I pulled up YouTube, preparing to catch myself up on the latest from the channels I was subscribed to, when curiosity drove me to type "Dirty Little Girl - Burn Halo" into the search bar. I'd listened to the song plenty of times, but for whatever reason, I'd never actually sat myself down and watched the video.

It was like watching myself onscreen, only the girl in the video had dark brown hair. But otherwise, she and I were very much the same. Partying in sleazy bars, waking up beside complete and utter strangers, and drinking so much you ended up hunched over the toilet bowl. The solo began, and a very familiar face popped onscreen, absolutely shredding on his guitar.



Son of a bitch, he really wasn't lying about playing the Solo

And he looked damn good, too; that spiked up hair and guyliner was surprisingly sexy. As was the black V-neck he wore, exposing his chest; not yet adorned with his FOREVER tattoo. How long ago had this video been filmed? He didn't look much different to how he did now.



But fuck, he basically man-handled that guitar...

I paused the video as the doorbell rang and Wraith sprang off the bed. I followed him downstairs, where I found him barking and scratching at the door. It was adorable watching him try to play Watch Dog; the little guy was the least-threatening creature on the planet.

"Room service." Dom grinned, holding up a McDonald's bag as I opened the door. "Figured I'd bring you some breakfast, since I didn't get to cook for you this morning."
"Oh Sparky, what would I do without you?" I grinned.
"Crash and burn." he chuckled.

He followed me upstairs to my room and laid across the end of my bed. My coffee had finally begun to cool, and I took a few sips before tearing into the bag of food. Hot Cakes, Maple Syrup, Hash Browns - Dom knew me well.

"Whatcha watchin?" he asked, pulling my laptop toward him and un-pausing the video.
"Burn Halo video."
"Is that Brian?"
"Eyupp." I confirmed, tearing into one of the hash browns. "I didn't believe him about his little cameo at first, but what do ya know."
"He's got skill." Dom admitted, seeming impressed as he watched Brian play. "That chick is You As Fuck, too."
"Shut up." I snorted.
"So, did you end up screwing him?" he asked as the video ended.
"Wow, don't beat around the bush, huh?" I giggled.
"Just answer the question."
"No."
"Bullshit." he snorted.
"No bullshit." I smirked. "I'm not that easy."
"I'd beg to differ." Dom flirted.
"Hey, Us; that's different." I defended myself. "You and I go waaay back."
"Like, six months." he teased.
"That's still a long time."
"Well, I'm relieved." he smiled. "Less competition."
"I said I didn't fuck him last night." I pressed. "Not that I wasn't thinking about it."
"Well, that'll be a little hard." Dom purred, pulling the bag of food away and climbing on top of me. "Because I called Dibs."
"You don't own me, ya know."
"Maybe not." he breathed, his hand gently squeezing my throat. "But I saw you first."

He leaned down to claim my lips, and my breakfast went cold as the both of us made up for the time we'd lost last night...

Notes

I really couldn't be bothered writing Non Brian-Related Smut, just use your imagination

Chapter Title Cred: HIM's cover of Wicked Game

Yeah, Rikki's a fuckin hoebag.
No wonder she and Brian get along.

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