In Vegas
Fandom: Smosh
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Rating: R?
Summary: Ian wakes up next to Anthony and tries to figure out what happened last night.
A/N: I had way too much fun writing this. And look, I can still write things that aren't about weird fetishes!
Ian woke up with the worst hangover he'd ever had.
The moment he opened his eyes, a throbbing pain shot through his head. He let out a soft groan, burying his head into the pillow. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was.
Las Vegas. With Anthony. Right. They'd come for a business meeting, and decided to make a vacation out of it.
Ian kept his face firmly planted in the pillow, unable to face the bright light coming from somewhere to his right, and tried to figure out his surroundings using his other senses.
He was in a bed. That was a good start. The room was hot, but he could hear the hum of an air conditioner, and… snoring? Sure enough, someone in the room was snoring softly. That's when he realized that there was something pressed against him, something warm and heavy and definitely breathing.
He was in bed with someone.
He racked his brains, still not willing to look up. Who could he have slept with last night? Had he brought some guy he met at the casino back to his hotel room? Or - he prayed that it wasn't the case - a prostitute? Maybe he should wake them up and ask who they were. And if they had any diseases. Oh God.
Slowly, he lifted his head from the pillow, shielding his eyes against the bright light, and rolled over to see who he'd gone to bed with.
Anthony's body was sprawled beneath the sheets beside him.
Ian's immediate reaction was to laugh out loud with relief, but his pounding headache quickly put a stop to that plan. Instead he simply let out a sigh, thanking whatever gods might be listening that he'd woken up next to his best friend, and not some mysterious stranger. True, both Anthony and himself were naked, and Ian could make out some fresh bite marks across Anthony's chest, but even if they had slept together, he couldn't remember enough of it to make things awkward between them. And he was pretty sure that Anthony didn't have syphilis, so that was always a plus. And it wasn't like drunken makeout sessions were something new to them, anyway. Sure, it had never gone this far before, but there was this one time where Ian was almost entirely sure that he'd given Anthony a blowjob in their kitchen during a party, and if their friendship had survived that, then what was a little sex in a Vegas hotel bed, really?
He shook his protesting head, trying to think clearly for a second. Maybe he should wake Anthony up. Yes, that sounded like a great idea. He reached out and gently shook Anthony's shoulder.
"Mmfff… go away," Anthony mumbled, trying to wriggle away from the touch. Ian rolled his eyes, shaking harder.
"Ugh, what?" Anthony groaned, finally blinking his eyes open. He stared vaguely into Ian's face for a minute before he finally focused.
"Ian? What's going on?" he asked, rubbing his head with the heel of his hand. "I'm so hungover. Can't you just let me sleep it off?"
"Look down," Ian said.
Anthony's eyes slowly travelled down to their sheet-covered bodies. "Are we…?" He lifted the blanket and sighed. "Yep, we're naked." He glanced back up at Ian. "Did we have sex last night?"
"I think so," Ian replied.
Anthony stretched, yawning hugely. "Was it any good?"
"If I remembered any of it, I'd tell you." Ian sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pushing himself into a sitting position. Beside him, he heard Anthony do the same, followed by a hiss of pain.
"Yeah, we definitely had sex," Anthony said. "Either that, or someone decided to see how many things they could shove up my ass after I passed out."
"Somehow I doubt that," Ian replied. "I'm pretty sure it was my massive dick."
Anthony snorted. "Please, I can see your dick from where I'm standing."
"It's still bigger than yours," Ian shot back, fumbling for his boxers on the floor. As he was tugging them on, he noticed something on his left hand.
A ring.
He froze. "Anthony," he said. His voice cracked on the last symbol.
"Yeah?" Anthony replied.
"Look down at your hands."
"What am I supposed to be - oh God."
Ian turned around, staring at Anthony in horror. Anthony sank to the bed, his jeans only halfway on, twisting the ring on his finger.
"Did we…?" he whispered.
"I…" Ian trailed off, grabbing a handwritten receipt from the bedside table.
Room 217.
Ian and Anthony Hecox.
Wordlessly, he handed the receipt to Anthony. Anthony stared at in silence for a few seconds.
"We're… we're married," he said finally.
"Yeah," Ian replied. He wasn't sure of what else to say.
"Dude, I took your last name and I had to be bottom for the wedding night sex," Anthony said incredulously. "I really got screwed over in this deal."
Their eyes met, and suddenly they couldn't hold it in any longer; they both burst out laughing, slumped together on the bed as their bodies shook with giggles. Ian's head was still pounding, and every burst of laughter made it worse, but he couldn't stop.
"Oh God," Ian gasped out between giggles. "We got married, dude. What the hell?"
"That was really stupid of us," Anthony agreed, still grinning as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "So what should we do? Start looking for a divorce lawyer?"
"How about breakfast first," Ian suggested, laughing. "And then… well, we still have five days in Vegas left. How about a honeymoon before our divorce?"
"Sounds like fun," Anthony replied. "But I am not being bottom every time we have honeymoon sex."
"That's what you think," Ian said, smirking. "Once this honeymoon is over, you'll be begging me to shove my dick in your ass."
"Oh, I'm sure."
Ian grinned. "Divorcing me is the worst mistake you'll ever make, Anthony Hecox."
"I'm sure I'll regret it for the rest of my life," Anthony replied, pulling his shirt on. "Wanna get some waffles?"
"You're paying, right? I bought those rings, after all."
"Sure, whatever. I just need something besides alcohol in my system or I'm going to puke all over you."
"Sexy," Ian teased. "You know I love it when you talk dirty to me."
"Fuck off," Anthony retorted, but he was smiling.
As they slipped on their shoes and headed outside to find a restaurant, Ian decided that there was no one else he'd rather drunkenly marry than his best friend.
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Rating: R?
Summary: Ian wakes up next to Anthony and tries to figure out what happened last night.
A/N: I had way too much fun writing this. And look, I can still write things that aren't about weird fetishes!
Ian woke up with the worst hangover he'd ever had.
The moment he opened his eyes, a throbbing pain shot through his head. He let out a soft groan, burying his head into the pillow. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was.
Las Vegas. With Anthony. Right. They'd come for a business meeting, and decided to make a vacation out of it.
Ian kept his face firmly planted in the pillow, unable to face the bright light coming from somewhere to his right, and tried to figure out his surroundings using his other senses.
He was in a bed. That was a good start. The room was hot, but he could hear the hum of an air conditioner, and… snoring? Sure enough, someone in the room was snoring softly. That's when he realized that there was something pressed against him, something warm and heavy and definitely breathing.
He was in bed with someone.
He racked his brains, still not willing to look up. Who could he have slept with last night? Had he brought some guy he met at the casino back to his hotel room? Or - he prayed that it wasn't the case - a prostitute? Maybe he should wake them up and ask who they were. And if they had any diseases. Oh God.
Slowly, he lifted his head from the pillow, shielding his eyes against the bright light, and rolled over to see who he'd gone to bed with.
Anthony's body was sprawled beneath the sheets beside him.
Ian's immediate reaction was to laugh out loud with relief, but his pounding headache quickly put a stop to that plan. Instead he simply let out a sigh, thanking whatever gods might be listening that he'd woken up next to his best friend, and not some mysterious stranger. True, both Anthony and himself were naked, and Ian could make out some fresh bite marks across Anthony's chest, but even if they had slept together, he couldn't remember enough of it to make things awkward between them. And he was pretty sure that Anthony didn't have syphilis, so that was always a plus. And it wasn't like drunken makeout sessions were something new to them, anyway. Sure, it had never gone this far before, but there was this one time where Ian was almost entirely sure that he'd given Anthony a blowjob in their kitchen during a party, and if their friendship had survived that, then what was a little sex in a Vegas hotel bed, really?
He shook his protesting head, trying to think clearly for a second. Maybe he should wake Anthony up. Yes, that sounded like a great idea. He reached out and gently shook Anthony's shoulder.
"Mmfff… go away," Anthony mumbled, trying to wriggle away from the touch. Ian rolled his eyes, shaking harder.
"Ugh, what?" Anthony groaned, finally blinking his eyes open. He stared vaguely into Ian's face for a minute before he finally focused.
"Ian? What's going on?" he asked, rubbing his head with the heel of his hand. "I'm so hungover. Can't you just let me sleep it off?"
"Look down," Ian said.
Anthony's eyes slowly travelled down to their sheet-covered bodies. "Are we…?" He lifted the blanket and sighed. "Yep, we're naked." He glanced back up at Ian. "Did we have sex last night?"
"I think so," Ian replied.
Anthony stretched, yawning hugely. "Was it any good?"
"If I remembered any of it, I'd tell you." Ian sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pushing himself into a sitting position. Beside him, he heard Anthony do the same, followed by a hiss of pain.
"Yeah, we definitely had sex," Anthony said. "Either that, or someone decided to see how many things they could shove up my ass after I passed out."
"Somehow I doubt that," Ian replied. "I'm pretty sure it was my massive dick."
Anthony snorted. "Please, I can see your dick from where I'm standing."
"It's still bigger than yours," Ian shot back, fumbling for his boxers on the floor. As he was tugging them on, he noticed something on his left hand.
A ring.
He froze. "Anthony," he said. His voice cracked on the last symbol.
"Yeah?" Anthony replied.
"Look down at your hands."
"What am I supposed to be - oh God."
Ian turned around, staring at Anthony in horror. Anthony sank to the bed, his jeans only halfway on, twisting the ring on his finger.
"Did we…?" he whispered.
"I…" Ian trailed off, grabbing a handwritten receipt from the bedside table.
Room 217.
Ian and Anthony Hecox.
Wordlessly, he handed the receipt to Anthony. Anthony stared at in silence for a few seconds.
"We're… we're married," he said finally.
"Yeah," Ian replied. He wasn't sure of what else to say.
"Dude, I took your last name and I had to be bottom for the wedding night sex," Anthony said incredulously. "I really got screwed over in this deal."
Their eyes met, and suddenly they couldn't hold it in any longer; they both burst out laughing, slumped together on the bed as their bodies shook with giggles. Ian's head was still pounding, and every burst of laughter made it worse, but he couldn't stop.
"Oh God," Ian gasped out between giggles. "We got married, dude. What the hell?"
"That was really stupid of us," Anthony agreed, still grinning as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "So what should we do? Start looking for a divorce lawyer?"
"How about breakfast first," Ian suggested, laughing. "And then… well, we still have five days in Vegas left. How about a honeymoon before our divorce?"
"Sounds like fun," Anthony replied. "But I am not being bottom every time we have honeymoon sex."
"That's what you think," Ian said, smirking. "Once this honeymoon is over, you'll be begging me to shove my dick in your ass."
"Oh, I'm sure."
Ian grinned. "Divorcing me is the worst mistake you'll ever make, Anthony Hecox."
"I'm sure I'll regret it for the rest of my life," Anthony replied, pulling his shirt on. "Wanna get some waffles?"
"You're paying, right? I bought those rings, after all."
"Sure, whatever. I just need something besides alcohol in my system or I'm going to puke all over you."
"Sexy," Ian teased. "You know I love it when you talk dirty to me."
"Fuck off," Anthony retorted, but he was smiling.
As they slipped on their shoes and headed outside to find a restaurant, Ian decided that there was no one else he'd rather drunkenly marry than his best friend.