Author's notes: Just a quick "morning after" piece for you :) I do plan to write more stuff for 'Bottom' as they're quite easy characters to write for (although I have included a bit of a plot twist come mind fuck in here so look out for it). Anywho, enjoy. As always, all opinions welcome (but please be kind) Xx

Smells Continued... Continued.

Eddie was vaguely aware that he was lying on floorboards, his face pressed against the wood. With a sniff and a small jerk to try and bring himself into the waking world, he opened his eyes. Well, he could see bugger all! Where were his glasses? After he shifted around a bit, ah! There they were! They were in his top pocket. He was about to retrieve them when he realised for the first time that there was someone holding his hand. Eddie was about to pull his fingers out of this stranger's grip but some little voice in the back of his head (that sounded oddly like Richie's) talked him out of it. So, instead, Eddie reached across his body and into his pocket with the other hand (not an easy feat when you're face down on floorboard). After inelegantly replacing the glasses on the bridge of his nose, he inspected his engaged hand.

Richie lay beside him, curled in a "C" shape, his hand in Eddie's, his cheek resting on the interlocked fingers. Very slowly, last night's events came back to Eddie as he watched the sleeping man beside him. He flexed his shoulder, feeling a blossoming bruise where he'd fallen to the ground (twice). His eyes wandered down Richie's torso. His shirt lay open and his tie had been flung over by the cooker where it had come to rest in a strange twist, caught around a chair leg. Eddie's eyes wandered further downwards. Richie's flies were undone too. Ah. Now he remembered. He looked back up at Richie's sleeping face.

Up close, Richie was... well, kind of pretty, if that's the right word to use. He had fairly aquiline features. Slim nose, strangely effeminate lips and his eyelashes were far longer than Eddie had ever realised before. But, then, he'd always made it a point not to get too close to Richie in the past for fear of being head butted or having his eyes jabbed at with various objects. Strange really that, after a night of rabidly attempting to "have it off" with any bird that would give them a second glance, here was Eddie lying next to a de-virginised Richie (and feeling very like he should be smoking a ciggy). Not really sure what he was doing, Eddie reached out with his free hand and ran his fingers through Richie's hair, pushing it away from his face. Eddie was surprised. For the amount that Richie sweated, his hair actually wasn't that bad (not this morning anyway). It must be used to it by now, Eddie thought. It's built up its own immunity.

Eddie had to giggle. The amount they'd argued as kids was phenomenal and it had hardly eased when they ended up living here in this god forsaken house. But Eddie had been a punk then, and Richie had been a major anarchist and "poet" and they'd both been so sure that they were always right. Eddie snorted, remembering that stupid tri-hawk. What had he called himself then? Vanessa? No. Vyvyan. That was it. Richie had found it such a hoot when he found out his name was really Edward and had refused to call him anything but Eddie ever since. As for the others, Mike had gone slightly la-la after that bus crash and insisted his name was now "Dave" (actually the name of his childhood gerbil) and Neil, although he'd survived with not much more than a burn, had simply wandered off into the world, spreading peace and lentils wherever he went.

Eddie was pulled out of his nostalgia when Richie shivered and scrunched up his nose for a second before relaxing back to his slumber. Very gently, Eddie pulled his fingers out of Richie's grip and stood up. Richie was left lying, curled up on the floor, one hand still up near his face. Eddie picked up his hat from where it had fallen on the floor last night, placed it back on his head and looked at Richie with his hands in his pockets. Well, he couldn't leave him down there on the bare floor with his shirt open. Eddie hopped up the stairs and returned with the blanket off Richie's bed and dropped it on his snoozing flat-mate. Not really sure how to react to this turn of events at the moment, Eddie set about making cups of tea. He'd just finished when there was a rustling sound. Eddie turned his head and looked at Richie.

Richie sat, trying to focus, the blanket still over his lap but his shirt gaping open.

"Made you tea, Richie." Eddie croaked in his usual, bizarre rasp.

"Oh... Oh, thanks." Richie said, without looking at him. He was staring a thousand yards into the floor, looking slightly confused. "Wh.. What happened last night, Eddie?" He looked up, a bemused expression still dancing round his face. With sudden realisation he said "Did we um..."

Without having to ask, Eddie nodded his head. Richie looked down and jumped as he noticed his open shirt and flies.

"OH!... AH!... UM!..." Richie stuttered loudly as he fumbled with his clothes, panicked. "Oh! My clothes must have been pulled open when I caught you after you passed out last night! Yes!" Richie, half said, half shouted as he did his shirt up (wonky). "And then... And then... And then I must have... have... tripped! And that must have what made my trousers just BURST open by themselves! And... YES! That's when I hit my head and just PASSED OUT!" He stopped, a manic look in his eyes and a huge, false, white-toothed grin on his insane face. The whole time, Eddie stood, leaning on the kitchen table, a cup of tea in one hand with his head cocked slightly to one side.

"Richie." Eddie said, shortly.

"Y-yes?" Richie enquired, shakily, pushing his hair (which was somehow already damp with sweat) out of his eyes. Eddie handed him his cup of tea. Richie took it then looked up just in time for Eddie to grab the lower part of his face with one hand and kiss him squarely on the mouth. Richie's eyes went round as marbles and stayed that way even after Eddie had pulled away.

"Stop talking bollocks." With that, Eddie took his own tea and went to sit down on the sofa to watch whatever garbage was on and let Richie drink his tea under his blanket on the kitchen floor.