Post by Seek on Jul 6, 2011 7:22:41 GMT 10
Title: Queer Bedfellows
Rating: PG
Couple/Character: Matthias Tunstall
Event: Humour high jump
Words: 501
Summary: Mattes tries not to panic when he wakes up in bed with Rosto.
Warning: This story contains extreme, shameless crack. Nothing important happens in it. Oh, and they’re all naked. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
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Matthias Tunstall rather thought that his day had been a good one when he woke up in someone else’s bed, other than his own. He was forced to rapidly revise his assessment of said day when said someone else turned out to be fond of hogging the sheets.
He was forced to rapidly revise his assessment a second time when he found out that said someone else was Rosto the Piper.
Rosto the sarden Piper.
Mattes was just barely saved from letting out an ear-splitting shriek by the fact that his head pounded, it felt like he had cotton wool stuffed in his skull, and that he couldn’t actually remember much of what happened last night since he’d started on the first tankard of ale.
He rather suspected it was a good thing he couldn’t quite remember.
He also thought it was a promising sign that he had to be utterly drunk in order to end up in bed with Rosto and – he checked and did his best not to panic, which he was really absurdly good at – very much in the nude.
Rosto mumbled something and rolled over onto his side, snuggling up closer to Mattes. Mattes took a deep breath. And then another. So the Rogue had a predilection for snuggling and muttering about fluffy things in his sleep. That wasn’t going to be a problem. The Rogue was a heavy sleeper. That was a bit of a help, really, if he didn’t want to panic. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going to assassinate the Rogue, though he filed that away for future consideration.
Just in case he needed to kill Rosto if the man got insufferable.
At this point, it might be necessary to clarify that a hungover Dog in unfamiliar surroundings: specifically, in the bed of the Rogue himself, and on the verge of panic was not a charitable Dog. It was precisely in this position that Mattes found himself.
(Rosto mumbling something about, ‘But why are you coming into my house naked, Mattes?’ was not exactly conducive to Mattes’ confidence in their combined sexuality quotient either. And Beka could really have warned him that Rosto tended to be clingy in his sleep.)
He tried to pry himself free of Rosto’s clutches, casting about helplessly for his shirt and breeches, and for a few horrified moments, entertained the idea he’d really gone into Rosto’s house utterly naked.
Gods. He couldn’t find his sarden breeches.
He gave up, finally. Maybe Rosto had some clothes that he could lend him. At any rate, he’d probably only get help when the Rogue was awake, and Rosto appeared the furthest thing from that right now.
“Don’t go,” Rosto murmured lazily in his sleep, lips brushing Mattes’ bicep, and lingering. Mattes wondered if the Rogue was pretending but finally gave up and relaxed against the pillows. At least it was warmer here, lying next to Rosto in the soft blankets.
And Mattes wasn’t quite the kind to kiss and tell.
Rating: PG
Couple/Character: Matthias Tunstall
Event: Humour high jump
Words: 501
Summary: Mattes tries not to panic when he wakes up in bed with Rosto.
Warning: This story contains extreme, shameless crack. Nothing important happens in it. Oh, and they’re all naked. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
-
Matthias Tunstall rather thought that his day had been a good one when he woke up in someone else’s bed, other than his own. He was forced to rapidly revise his assessment of said day when said someone else turned out to be fond of hogging the sheets.
He was forced to rapidly revise his assessment a second time when he found out that said someone else was Rosto the Piper.
Rosto the sarden Piper.
Mattes was just barely saved from letting out an ear-splitting shriek by the fact that his head pounded, it felt like he had cotton wool stuffed in his skull, and that he couldn’t actually remember much of what happened last night since he’d started on the first tankard of ale.
He rather suspected it was a good thing he couldn’t quite remember.
He also thought it was a promising sign that he had to be utterly drunk in order to end up in bed with Rosto and – he checked and did his best not to panic, which he was really absurdly good at – very much in the nude.
Rosto mumbled something and rolled over onto his side, snuggling up closer to Mattes. Mattes took a deep breath. And then another. So the Rogue had a predilection for snuggling and muttering about fluffy things in his sleep. That wasn’t going to be a problem. The Rogue was a heavy sleeper. That was a bit of a help, really, if he didn’t want to panic. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going to assassinate the Rogue, though he filed that away for future consideration.
Just in case he needed to kill Rosto if the man got insufferable.
At this point, it might be necessary to clarify that a hungover Dog in unfamiliar surroundings: specifically, in the bed of the Rogue himself, and on the verge of panic was not a charitable Dog. It was precisely in this position that Mattes found himself.
(Rosto mumbling something about, ‘But why are you coming into my house naked, Mattes?’ was not exactly conducive to Mattes’ confidence in their combined sexuality quotient either. And Beka could really have warned him that Rosto tended to be clingy in his sleep.)
He tried to pry himself free of Rosto’s clutches, casting about helplessly for his shirt and breeches, and for a few horrified moments, entertained the idea he’d really gone into Rosto’s house utterly naked.
Gods. He couldn’t find his sarden breeches.
He gave up, finally. Maybe Rosto had some clothes that he could lend him. At any rate, he’d probably only get help when the Rogue was awake, and Rosto appeared the furthest thing from that right now.
“Don’t go,” Rosto murmured lazily in his sleep, lips brushing Mattes’ bicep, and lingering. Mattes wondered if the Rogue was pretending but finally gave up and relaxed against the pillows. At least it was warmer here, lying next to Rosto in the soft blankets.
And Mattes wasn’t quite the kind to kiss and tell.