He should have known better. The fact was, he did know better. No matter how drunk he got, some small part of his mind was always at least dimly aware of his actions. In the morning, when his head threatened to explode, he would choose to forget most of them.

Right now, Giles wound an arm around the waist of his date, pickup, whatever you wanted to call him, and they staggered into the hotel together. Collecting the key, they fell into the elevator, managing to catch themselves before they hit the floor, and began to laugh hysterically at absolutely nothing.

Giles wiped the tears from his eyes. Gods, his sides ached. Leaning sideways he rested his head on his date's shoulder. The man patted Giles' cheek, turned his head, and kissed him on the nose. That set them both off giggling again.

The elevator opened on their floor. Giles took him by the hand and started down the hallway.

"Wrong...wrong way. Thish way." The other man dangled a key and peered blurrily at the room number on it.

Allowing himself to be led, Giles followed him to the room and, after much fumbling with the key, they got the door open and entered.

The sight of the king-sized bed reminded both of them why they were there, and the goofiness of the elevator faded as their primal urges took over. Undressing hurriedly, they met in a breathless clinch and tumbled onto the mattress.

Rolling over, Giles ended up on top straddling his lover's thighs. He stared down at the sharp cheekbones, dark hair and deep brown eyes, trailing a caressing hand as though memorizing that face. The man under him bucked his hips.

"Get on with it!"

Giles sat back and felt the rock hard erection poke him in the ass. Reaching behind, he grasped and then firmly stroked it.

"How long have you had a hard-on?" he asked, letting go.

"Since our first drink together."

Laughing silently at that information, Giles leaned down and kissed him thoroughly, his own erection rubbing against the man's belly. He sat up and moved his hips provocatively, causing the other man to groan.

"Didn't take much, did it?"

"No," was the whispered answer and, apart from a few muted requests during the night, those were the last words they exchanged as they gave way to their desires.

He should have known better. The fact was, he did know better. No matter how drunk he got, some small part of his mind was always at least dimly aware of his actions.

Now, as predicted, his head was preparing to explode messily all over the pillow, so he chose to forget most of the night before. Keeping his eyes tightly shut against the harsh morning light, he rolled over and wrapped himself around his lover. The other man reciprocated with a close hug, and they both settled back into deep sleep.

When Giles awoke the next time, his headache was worse and the need to pee was urgent. Reluctantly, he removed himself from the comforting warmth of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom to take care of the latter. While washing his hands, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and winced at the sight: reddened, swollen eyes, hair sticking up all over his head, his mouth bruised from passionate kisses, and teeth marks in his neck, for godssakes. He was a mess.

At least he still had a reflection. That was always a plus. In his state of stupidity the night before he could have easily become prey for even the slowest vampire.

He rummaged around in the medicine cabinet, thankful his "date" had unpacked and moved into the hotel room rather than merely lived out of a suitcase, found a bottle of ibuprofen and dry swallowed two of them. He grimaced and bent to take a drink of water from the tap and then took two more pills.

Taking another look at his reflection, unflinching this time, he sighed. This was the part where what he had refused to acknowledge last night became unavoidable.

Time to face the consequences of his actions.

He walked back into the other room and stared down at the body sprawled across the bed. They were good together, drunk or sober. The sex was, as always, incredible. He'd never had anything to complain about there.

The one thing that worried him was whether this lapse of conscience was going to sneak back and bite him on the ass when he least expected it. Considering who he'd chosen to bed last night, the danger of that happening was all too possible. Sometimes cutting himself loose from the restraints of his life just wasn't a good idea. It had gotten him into much trouble many times before.

Then again, sometimes it depended on the circumstances.

Heavens only knew that he'd needed this particular lapse in the worst way, and the worst way was probably how he was going to get it in the end.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his palm over the other's shoulder blade, fingers digging into flesh in a massaging action. Just that simple touch was enough to draw him into the special aura that surrounded the two of them; it was always enough.

His eyes travelled over the strong back, down to the rounded backside just barely covered by the sheets. One long leg stuck out from the other end of the covers.

He sighed.

"Whatsamatter?" his partner asked blearily.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"'Sataproblem?"

Giles frowned, taking a moment to decipher that. "Could you please not speak into the pillow? I can't understand you."

The other man rolled over. "Full of regrets already?" he asked clearly.

Giles shook his head and instantly wished he hadn't done that. The hangover was fading, but still lingered with enough strength to punish.

"Don't lie to me. I know you better than you know yourself, Ripper."

"As you're always so fond of telling me." Giles glanced away from Ethan. "You're right. I do have regrets. Rather large ones, and I'm not sure last night was all my fault."

Ethan reached out and took Giles' hand in his. "I didn't know you were going to be at that bar last night. Our meeting was sheer coincidence." At Giles' doubtful look, he added, "I didn't force you to come here with me. I didn't make you make love with me."

There it was. The truth lay between them, bare and unrelenting. Ethan was right. It had been Giles' decision. He knew there had been no coercion, no magick. The fact that he had gotten drunk wasn't enough of an excuse as he had known exactly what he was doing. It had been nothing but simple lust. He had wanted it, so he had taken it. Ethan certainly wasn't complaining. He had no reason to.

"Why are you smiling like the proverbial cat in the cream with the canary, Ripper?"

Ignoring the question for now, Giles asked a couple of his own, "Why are you in Sunnydale, Ethan? What were you doing at that bar?"

Ethan lifted one elegant shoulder as he propped himself up against the pillows.

"For this. I was trying to figure out a way -- I admit, by whatever means necessary -- to get you into bed. As it turned out, all I had to do was walk into that bar. Fate. Who knew? Now tell me, what's with the smile?"

"Just this." He walked around the bed and climbed in under the covers. He slid in next to Ethan and pulled him close so that they lay facing each other. His hand cupped the back of Ethan's head as their lips met in a slow, searching kiss.

They parted slightly.

"You knew exactly what you were doing last night," Ethan insisted.

"Do you hear me arguing with you?"

They were silent for a few minutes while they resumed exploring each other's bodies, taking advantage of their truce.

"Ah, Ripper, Ripper," Ethan sighed as Giles' hands worked their own brand of magick. "Always keeping me on my toes."

Giles smiled in consent. "Right now, I'd rather have you on your knees."