The Morning After by firthgal
Summary: The morning after the Night Out.
Categories: Other, Episode Related Characters: Dwight, Michael, Ryan
Genres: Angst, Drabble, Fluff, Slash
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 620 Read: 2145 Published: May 31, 2008 Updated: May 31, 2008
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

1. Chapter 1 by firthgal

Chapter 1 by firthgal
Author's Notes:
My first foray into anything even remotely slash. It's probably more gen than slash, but hopefully it's enjoyable either way.

He woke up with a dry mouth and a throbbing head. His throat burned with a familiar need. He tried to open his eyes, but it hurt too much. He groaned and lifted a hand to his forehead, feeling as if that took all the strength that he’d ever have. He felt something tighten around his abdomen. It was warm, and firm. An arm. Great. He couldn’t get his head to stop aching long enough to try and remember who he had gone home with the night before. He wasn’t even sure if this was his apartment. But something was familiar. As he breathed in he could smell a mixture of cherries and… oh god. A certain knock-off brand of Calvin Klein cologne. And he only knew that the knock-off was supposed to be Calvin Klein because… Oh, please, god, no. He carefully opened an eye and found Michael Scott gazing down at him with that stupid smile of his. That stupid smile that Ryan was never able to understand, refused to let himself understand.

 

“Hey, Sleepyhead,” he said softly.

 

Ryan sighed. He couldn’t understand how two little, insignificant words could be filled with so much warmth. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

 

His smile faltered a little. “I… me and Dwight… don’t you remember last night?”

 

A shot of panic jolted through Ryan. Dwight? Dwight was here too? He summoned the strength to turn his head. Of course. Dwight was laying in a fetal position next to him, still sound asleep, wearing nothing but his underpants and his undershirt, and… his socks. Ryan could feel his feet intertwined with his own. Oh god.

 

He looked back at Michael and said, “You guys were at the club last night.”

 

Michael’s smile got brighter and he said, “Yes! Yes we were. And you were happy to see us, remember? Because we’re friends, and friends are always happy to see friends.”

 

Ryan stared at him, expressionless. He knew Michael was waiting for a confirmation of their friendship, waiting for a glimpse of the Ryan that he had seen the night before, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make himself care. And when the hope started slipping from Michael’s eyes, Ryan had to turn away.

 

His nose itched. His throat burned. He felt empty, and cold. He needed a hit. He closed his eyes and drew both hands to his forehead. His breathing was getting faster. His head was spinning. He needed a hit. Just one, and then he’d be okay. Just one. He needed a hit.

 

“We took care of you.”

 

Ryan almost didn’t hear him, he sounded so far away. “What?”

 

He felt a hand on his arm, pulling it away from his face. Ryan opened his eyes and his senses became more… aware as he felt Michael lean in closer. “I took care of you,” he whispered, the words tickling Ryan’s ear. As Michael reached a hand to Ryan’s cheek and moved his head, forcing Ryan to look into his eyes, he whispered, “I’ll always take care of you.”

 

Ryan knew that he didn’t deserve the love that was in Michael’s eyes. Or the conviction that was in his voice. And it certainly wasn’t anything that Ryan had ever wanted. But for the first time, he was grateful for it. Michael’s embrace felt like home. His cheap cologne smelled like home. That stupid smile was Ryan’s home. And for some reason, hearing Michael say those words, he felt like everything would be all right.

 

Against his better judgment, Ryan placed a hand on top of Michael’s. He gave him a genuine smile and said, “Thanks, Michael.”

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