New Year's Resolution
Toby wakes up after yet another day spent what he does best: Losing himself - in kink, booze, and running his club. This time, though, he might be losing more than just himself.
Fuck. Toby groaned. His stomach was trying to claw its way out through his body, and his head felt like it had been beaten repeatedly and ferociously with a very hard object. He felt like hell.
And as thirsty as if he hadn't had something to drink for the last forty-eight hours. He struggled for a moment to decide which part of him felt worst, and his stomach lost to his parched mouth. He had to have something to drink.
He managed to get up from the soft mattress he had been lying on, keeping his eyes closely shut against the light. But he only managed a few steps before he staggered, the room around him lurching almost as much as his stomach. Shit. He crumbled to his knees, but the room wouldn't stop moving, and in the end, he just gave up and curled up in a fetal position. The hardwood floor under him was cool and gave him momentary relief from the pounding in his head.
"Come on, get back to bed, Toby." There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he whimpered and kept his eyes closed.
"Please, no. Please." He couldn't move. He curled up tighter, his arms clutched around his hurting belly.
"Toby…" There was an exasperated note in the voice, but Toby couldn't move. He simply couldn't.
Then there was a soft pillow under his head, a blanket over him, and somebody who was suddenly Toby's favorite person ever gently lifted his head and poured cold, clear water into his dry mouth. It felt so good that he couldn't do anything but moan. Then, his thirst quenched, he slipped back to sleep, fleeing from his misery.
***
"Hey, there's a guy on the floor here. Wake the fuck up, man."
Toby wanted to groan when he was woken, but his throat felt raw, so he just kept his eyes closed. Maybe the voices would go away if he ignored them.
"It's the boss, Dan; you can't disturb him." Another unknown voice. Or somewhat unknown; he had a vague feeling he should know the talkers.
"Just skip this room for now, guys. I'll get him out of your hair," a third voice said.
This voice Toby knew, and he managed to open his eyes slightly. He caught sight of the back of the two cleaners, and then Ben was kneeling on the floor next to him.
He frowned, shuffling a bit. "Why am I on the floor?" It was fucking hard. Why would Ben put him here?
"You didn't feel well." Ben carefully stroked his forehead. "Are you a little better now?"
"Human, at least." Horrible, but human. At least he knew where he was. "Can I get something to drink?"
"Sure." Ben rose and rummaged around outside Toby's field of vision, which was limited to the hardwood floor and the wall a couple of feet away. Toby frowned. He had slept on the floor? An uneasy feeling was beginning to fill him, the knowledge that something wasn't right.
Then there was water, and it almost instantly made him feel a little more aware. "I can't believe I slept on the floor. Why didn't you wake me up?" He rubbed his face.
"I couldn't get you back in bed. You're too heavy when you're like this," Ben said in a calm voice.
Ben's voice was factual, but even without any recrimination, the words added to Toby's unease. It sounded like Toby did this all the time, like passing out on the floor was a regular occurrence. It had happened once or twice before, he knew that, but…
"Do I have an alcohol problem?" Toby asked the question without meaning to. He knew he didn't, but he still had an odd feeling of dread pooling in his stomach, adding to his queasiness.
"No," Ben answered. His tone of voice was matter-of-fact, and there wasn't anything implied, Toby could tell. Ben didn't say "No, but you have other problems." He didn't, but Toby had a horrible feeling that it would have been a lot closer to the truth.
He sat up, pushing down the blanket. He was only wearing his boxers, and he instinctively curled his arms around his body. "Take me home?" He voice sounded subdued.
"Sure." Ben let a gentle hand run over his hair. "Just let me talk to the cleaners, then we'll go."
***
Toby sat on the couch, staring into empty air. A shower and Ben's tomato soup and cheese sandwiches had made his head a lot clearer, but he wasn't sure that he liked the change. He had a gnawing feeling that something was wrong, and that it wasn't just his hangover.
Ben came back into the living room, and Toby looked up.
"Happy new year, by the way." He didn't quite manage to meet Ben's eyes. "I… we didn't get to kiss at midnight, did we?"
Ben sat down next to him. "You were busy with the club. Don't worry about it."
Something else dawned on Toby, adding to the sinking feeling that was pulling his body down. "I'd promised you a scene, hadn't I?"
Ben shrugged. "Don't worry about it," he repeated. "It's fine."
Only yesterday, Toby wouldn't have. Because Ben always said that, that he shouldn't worry, that Ben was fine even though Toby was busy. That all the other people Toby let down because he was busy were fine as well. Hell, Toby couldn't remember when he had last spoken to Mischa.
"No."
"No?" Ben's voice was questioning.
"No, it's not fine. It's not okay." It wasn't okay to treat Ben like that. Not okay to treat anybody like that. "I'm an asshole."
Ben was quiet for a split second too long. "You love the club, and you like having fun."
Toby swallowed. He was a Dom; the words used to describe him should be "reliable". Or "strong", or "caring", or at least "dominant". Not "you like having fun", like he was some surfer dude who couldn't commit to anything but chasing the next wave.
That was when his heart dropped, and the whole horrid truth dawned on him. That was exactly what he was. He was running around, always using some thing or other in the club as an excuse to prevent him from actually committing to anything at all.
Even to a fucking New Year's kiss with a man he was too much of a coward to call his lover.
"I'm sorry."
Ben began to talk. "I told you, it's ok…"
"No." Toby interrupted him. "It's simply not okay. I had promised you a scene, and I had promised to be with you." He finally pulled together enough courage to look into Ben's eyes. "I'm really, really sorry."
"Hey, it's fine. I know I'm a bit of an air head," Ben mumbled, looking away.
"No! It's not your fault. And you're not an air head; you managed to wrap up the biggest club party of the year, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Ben said. "I even managed to throw Mischa out. He was seriously grumpy because I wouldn't let him stay to flog his fourth boy of the evening when we closed."
"See? You're a hardass." Then Toby got serious and gently gripped Ben's head between his hands. "I mean it. I'm sorry for being an asshole, and I promise to make up for it."
There was a glint of hope in Ben's eyes. "I could use a scene with you sometime. Not today, just whenever you've…"
Toby interrupted. "You'll get it. I'll make up for it, okay?"
Ben nodded, and for the first time since yesterday, there was a small smile on his face. "Okay."
"Happy new year, boy." Toby leaned in and kissed his boy. It was time to work on his new year's resolution.
The answer was lost in their kiss.
Fuck. Toby groaned. His stomach was trying to claw its way out through his body, and his head felt like it had been beaten repeatedly and ferociously with a very hard object. He felt like hell.
And as thirsty as if he hadn't had something to drink for the last forty-eight hours. He struggled for a moment to decide which part of him felt worst, and his stomach lost to his parched mouth. He had to have something to drink.
He managed to get up from the soft mattress he had been lying on, keeping his eyes closely shut against the light. But he only managed a few steps before he staggered, the room around him lurching almost as much as his stomach. Shit. He crumbled to his knees, but the room wouldn't stop moving, and in the end, he just gave up and curled up in a fetal position. The hardwood floor under him was cool and gave him momentary relief from the pounding in his head.
"Come on, get back to bed, Toby." There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he whimpered and kept his eyes closed.
"Please, no. Please." He couldn't move. He curled up tighter, his arms clutched around his hurting belly.
"Toby…" There was an exasperated note in the voice, but Toby couldn't move. He simply couldn't.
Then there was a soft pillow under his head, a blanket over him, and somebody who was suddenly Toby's favorite person ever gently lifted his head and poured cold, clear water into his dry mouth. It felt so good that he couldn't do anything but moan. Then, his thirst quenched, he slipped back to sleep, fleeing from his misery.
***
"Hey, there's a guy on the floor here. Wake the fuck up, man."
Toby wanted to groan when he was woken, but his throat felt raw, so he just kept his eyes closed. Maybe the voices would go away if he ignored them.
"It's the boss, Dan; you can't disturb him." Another unknown voice. Or somewhat unknown; he had a vague feeling he should know the talkers.
"Just skip this room for now, guys. I'll get him out of your hair," a third voice said.
This voice Toby knew, and he managed to open his eyes slightly. He caught sight of the back of the two cleaners, and then Ben was kneeling on the floor next to him.
He frowned, shuffling a bit. "Why am I on the floor?" It was fucking hard. Why would Ben put him here?
"You didn't feel well." Ben carefully stroked his forehead. "Are you a little better now?"
"Human, at least." Horrible, but human. At least he knew where he was. "Can I get something to drink?"
"Sure." Ben rose and rummaged around outside Toby's field of vision, which was limited to the hardwood floor and the wall a couple of feet away. Toby frowned. He had slept on the floor? An uneasy feeling was beginning to fill him, the knowledge that something wasn't right.
Then there was water, and it almost instantly made him feel a little more aware. "I can't believe I slept on the floor. Why didn't you wake me up?" He rubbed his face.
"I couldn't get you back in bed. You're too heavy when you're like this," Ben said in a calm voice.
Ben's voice was factual, but even without any recrimination, the words added to Toby's unease. It sounded like Toby did this all the time, like passing out on the floor was a regular occurrence. It had happened once or twice before, he knew that, but…
"Do I have an alcohol problem?" Toby asked the question without meaning to. He knew he didn't, but he still had an odd feeling of dread pooling in his stomach, adding to his queasiness.
"No," Ben answered. His tone of voice was matter-of-fact, and there wasn't anything implied, Toby could tell. Ben didn't say "No, but you have other problems." He didn't, but Toby had a horrible feeling that it would have been a lot closer to the truth.
He sat up, pushing down the blanket. He was only wearing his boxers, and he instinctively curled his arms around his body. "Take me home?" He voice sounded subdued.
"Sure." Ben let a gentle hand run over his hair. "Just let me talk to the cleaners, then we'll go."
***
Toby sat on the couch, staring into empty air. A shower and Ben's tomato soup and cheese sandwiches had made his head a lot clearer, but he wasn't sure that he liked the change. He had a gnawing feeling that something was wrong, and that it wasn't just his hangover.
Ben came back into the living room, and Toby looked up.
"Happy new year, by the way." He didn't quite manage to meet Ben's eyes. "I… we didn't get to kiss at midnight, did we?"
Ben sat down next to him. "You were busy with the club. Don't worry about it."
Something else dawned on Toby, adding to the sinking feeling that was pulling his body down. "I'd promised you a scene, hadn't I?"
Ben shrugged. "Don't worry about it," he repeated. "It's fine."
Only yesterday, Toby wouldn't have. Because Ben always said that, that he shouldn't worry, that Ben was fine even though Toby was busy. That all the other people Toby let down because he was busy were fine as well. Hell, Toby couldn't remember when he had last spoken to Mischa.
"No."
"No?" Ben's voice was questioning.
"No, it's not fine. It's not okay." It wasn't okay to treat Ben like that. Not okay to treat anybody like that. "I'm an asshole."
Ben was quiet for a split second too long. "You love the club, and you like having fun."
Toby swallowed. He was a Dom; the words used to describe him should be "reliable". Or "strong", or "caring", or at least "dominant". Not "you like having fun", like he was some surfer dude who couldn't commit to anything but chasing the next wave.
That was when his heart dropped, and the whole horrid truth dawned on him. That was exactly what he was. He was running around, always using some thing or other in the club as an excuse to prevent him from actually committing to anything at all.
Even to a fucking New Year's kiss with a man he was too much of a coward to call his lover.
"I'm sorry."
Ben began to talk. "I told you, it's ok…"
"No." Toby interrupted him. "It's simply not okay. I had promised you a scene, and I had promised to be with you." He finally pulled together enough courage to look into Ben's eyes. "I'm really, really sorry."
"Hey, it's fine. I know I'm a bit of an air head," Ben mumbled, looking away.
"No! It's not your fault. And you're not an air head; you managed to wrap up the biggest club party of the year, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Ben said. "I even managed to throw Mischa out. He was seriously grumpy because I wouldn't let him stay to flog his fourth boy of the evening when we closed."
"See? You're a hardass." Then Toby got serious and gently gripped Ben's head between his hands. "I mean it. I'm sorry for being an asshole, and I promise to make up for it."
There was a glint of hope in Ben's eyes. "I could use a scene with you sometime. Not today, just whenever you've…"
Toby interrupted. "You'll get it. I'll make up for it, okay?"
Ben nodded, and for the first time since yesterday, there was a small smile on his face. "Okay."
"Happy new year, boy." Toby leaned in and kissed his boy. It was time to work on his new year's resolution.
The answer was lost in their kiss.