Title: The Worst Hangover Ever

Rating: PG13

Pairing: Xander/Angel

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made.

Warnings: Songfic!

A/N: Song is “The Worst Hangover Ever” by The Offspring.

Xander woke to a pounding in his head and roiling in his stomach. He tried to recall what had happened the night before - oh he remembered the part where Buffy and Spike reunited, and the disgust he felt at the soppy endearments they exchanged. It was after that, that he was unclear - he remembered a bar, dancing, some vague recollection of a pretty girl… But then nothing.


*Went out drinking late last night
I had a blast*


Gingerly opening his one eye, he quickly shut it again and groaned. Despite the fact that his curtains were shut tightly, it was just too damn bright in the room. He decided to stay in bed for a while and try to ignore both the pounding and the slight queasy sensation in his gut.


*But now the morning light has come
And kicked my ass*


Of course, thinking about his stomach only made the need to empty it that much worse. With a pain filled groan he rolled out of bed and onto the floor. He was grateful that pretty much every motel he’d ever stayed in had had the same basic layout, and that he could crawl to the can without having to open his eye.


*I’ve got the worst hangover ever
I’m crawling to the bathroom again
It hurts so bad that I’m never gonna drink again*


After emptying his stomach and rinsing his mouth, Xander slowly made his way back to the bed. Each tiny movement only succeeded in causing him to wince in pain as he felt as if his brain had come loose inside his skull and was now rolling around in there. He laid back down on the bed gingerly and another vision flashed into his head.

He was dancing with the pretty girl, when her 6’4, 300lb, bearded, leather-clad, biker-of-a-boyfriend stepped in. Seemed he took offence to the ‘one-eyed freak’ trying to pick up his girl. Xander chuckled and then winced in pain as remembered sucker-punching the man.


*And by my seventh shot
I was invincible*


He looked at his hand and saw the swollen knuckles. Funny, he thought to himself, that he hadn’t noticed this injury until now. Then again, between his head and his gut, it wasn’t so shocking.


*I would have never thought
I’d be this miserable*


It was all Buffy’s fault. Or maybe Spike’s. Either way, it wasn’t his fault that he had been so depressed and disgusted that he’d gone out and gotten himself shit-faced in a seedy bar. After all, who could blame him? Spike - evil, undead, wannabe-slayer-raper, shag-your-girlfriend-on-camera, bite-you-all-up-with-my-big-pointy-teeth - Spike was back from the dead, and Anya wasn’t. So yeah, he’d played nice for a while and then excused himself from the others and found the nearest bar. In retrospect, maybe not the smartest choice - ’cause damn was he hurting now.


*I’ve got the worst hangover ever
I’m rolling back and forth on the bed
I’m worked so bad that I’m never gonna drink again*


A muffled groan from the other side of the bed had Xander sitting up in alarm. In his earlier state, he hadn’t realised that there was someone else in the bed. Blinking rapidly he looked over the rather large shape beside him and swallowed. Whoever it was, was entirely covered by the thin, white, hotel sheet. With a trembling hand he reached out to pull it back, praying that it was anyone but the biker-boyfriend from the bar.


*Won’t someone just kill me
And put me out of my misery*


As the sheet slipped down to reveal a familiar face, Xander shoved his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming and clenched his eye shut. It couldnít be. It couldn’t. He’d happily take the biker-boyfriend right about now if it meant that Angel wouldn’t be in his bed when he opened his eye.


*I’m making deals with God; I’ll do anything
Make it stop please
Make it stop please*


Xander opened his eye. Angel was still there. Sleeping the sleep of the dead, Xander thought slightly hysterically. Without thought to his headache, his churning stomach, or the bed’s other occupant, Xander jumped to his feet and ran for the bathroom again. After about two steps, his legs went out from under him and he had to finish his flight on hands and knees.


*I’ve got the worst hangover ever
I’m crawling to the bathroom again*


In the sanctity of the bathroom, Xander remembered what happened after he swung at the biker. The gorilla-esque man was about to wipe the floor with him when… Angel stepped in. He now remembered everything. Angel had flashed a bit of fang at the man and he’d fled like the hounds of hell were after him. Then Angel had taken Xander by the arm and led him to the back of the bar. To his table. Where the two of them had proceeded to get completely tanked while they complained about Spike, Buffy, second chances and the unfairness of life in general. After closing time Angel had walked him back to the motel and Xander had invited him in.

After that his thought are fuzzy again, but he has flashes of memory. Flashes of preternaturally pale skin, of strong hands on him, of a cool whiskey flavoured tongue tracing his lips. He remembers sucking on that tongue. And then…

Xander banged his head on the wall as that particular memory surfaced.


*It hurts so bad that I’m never gonna drink again*


The kissing had progressed into groping. The groping had turned into writhing, which led to Xander begging. Begging Angel to touch him, to take him, to do anything to take away his pain. Angel had complied.

Xander snorted and rubbed the back of his head. It really hadn’t been that bad from what he remembered. Angel had been gentle with him. Had kissed him sweetly and scooped him into his arms and carried him to the bed. He had undressed him slowly, kissing and petting each new piece of flesh as it was revealed. Angel had practically worshipped him. Maybe it wasn’t such a horrible thing to have happened?


*I’ll probably never drink again
I may not ever drink again*


Xander left the bathroom and went back to the bed. He stood and looked down at Angel - his features softened in sleep - and wondered what the other man would do upon waking. Whether he would panic and freak out as he had done, or whether he’d smile up at him and beckon him back into bed.

As he pondered, sleepy brown eyes blinked open and Angel smiled up at Xander. “Come back to bed.”

Xander smiled and did as he was asked. Maybe this was what was supposed to happen. Maybe getting drunk and being rescued from certain death by Angel was fated. All the same, if it was, he wasn’t going to drink again. He’d learned his lesson about moderation the hard way. Although, as Angel pulled him into an embrace and kissed his neck softly, he thought it was worth it. Or he did, until he felt the sharp point of fangs pierce through his skin.


*At least not ’til next weekend
I’m never gonna drink again*