goodnight, my almost lover. [terr]

When Jean woke that morning, it was not with a smile on his face and he most certainly did not act like those well rested people from mattress commercials either. No, when Jean woke up the first thing he noticed was the blinding light that he was pretty sure had just destroyed his retinas. The pain caused by the destructive energy force known to man as sunlight was then followed by more pain from his throbbing head and some irritation from his left eye. It begged the question: what had he done last night that resulted in this? Unable to get up or even think, Jean made a whining sound and pulled the covers over his head to block out the light before pulling his pillow closer to his body.

Or at least, he thought it was his pillow.

It soon came to his attention through the haze of his hungover that not only was the supposed pillow warm and felt like a human body, said pillow also gave off the faint smell of a cologne that he suddenly recalled commenting last night. With a sudden start, quite a good amount of Jean's memory came back to him. Although much of the memories flowing through his head was hazy, it was enough to give him a general idea of the exact events that had transpired.

"Mother of- owowowowow." In hindsight, sitting up that quickly was not a good idea. Neither was getting up and opening his eyes. Actually, getting drunk last night was probably the worst idea of all. Why the hell did he ever agree to drinking mixed drinks in the first place? He really shouldn't drink so much but it was no use telling himself this. This wasn't the first time nor the last time he'd get so drunk.

Jean blinked a couple times until his eyes adjusted to the sunlight a bit more. His head was still in pain, of course, and it seemed that he never took out his contact which would explain the irritation in his left eye. With his sight restored, Jean took the time to survey his surroundings. Their clothing was scattered around the floor. Quentin was still next to him in bed - somehow looking as beautiful as ever. Shit, Quentin. What had he done?

"Quentin, you're not asleep are you?" Jean could have been wrong but Quentin was not breathing like someone who was asleep. And he certainly hoped that he wasn't asleep because he needed to talk about this.

Honestly, Jean was not in the mood for mind games. It was quite the shocker when one really thought about it. Jean had more or less built his entire life and his entire business by manipulating and observing people. The fact that he did not appreciate Quentin's careful choice of words was a clear indication as to the kind of mood he was currently in. The hangover probably had something to do with it as well.

"You weren't asleep," Jean repeated emotionlessly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He really needed eyedrops otherwise he neededto take out his contact which would render him nearly blind to things that were close up. "And the fact that you woke up looking so focused tells me that either you're a morning person or you woke up earlier than me. I'm assuming that it's the latter."

Jean glanced at the clock on the night stand. Seven o'clock in the morning was not early. Not for a pastry chef that had preparation to do. Jean thanked his ancestors and the bhoddavista that he had hired Allison recently and trusted that she could handle the prep on her own until he arrived. "It's not too early," he muttered and massaged his neck. "If anything I'm late."

"Listen," Jean began. "As much as I'd love to, I just can't let this go. Especially since I can't exactly remember every detail of what happened last night." He paused and took a deep breathe. "First of all, are you okay? Well you seem okay but are you really okay?" There goes his pride. He swore to never drink Singapore Slings again. "I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have drank so much last night. It was my fault. I don't know how I'm going to make it up to you."

And he was. He was sorry he drank that much. He was sorry that he lost control of himself. He never should have touched Quentin. Damn it all, Jean thought. And he was so good in bed too.

Quentin is not a shy person. Jean was pretty sure that even stupid people could tell that Quentin did not have a timid bone in his body. He had an air about him that drew people to him. Charisma can be faked but only for so long. Jean hasn't ever seen Quentin shy away from anything. Not to mention, shy people internalize and try not to draw attention to themselves. Dyeing their hair pink would defeat the purpose. So, why of all times, was Quentin acting shy now? Jean would have loved nothing more than to rip the sheets off the bed so they could face each other properly. Not being able to decipher body language because people are hidden is a very frustrating and uncomfortable thing for Jean. Unfortunately, one, he couldn't do that to someone he was trying to apolgize to and, two, he wasn't sure looking at Quentin's body and all of it's markings (or lack thereof) was a very good idea when they were naked in bed together.So he would have to continue without looking at his face and body language and instead try to decipher based on voice.

"You don't understand," Jean repeated, a frown appearing on his face. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Apologizing after sex should always be handled delicately and Jean was stressed and doing the complete opposite. What was he supposed to say? I'm sorry that I took your anal virginity despite the fact that you do not like me and are a heterosexual? Yes, that would go over well. Might as well tell him that they should never contact each other again either since clearly the entire dynamic of their relationship had been changed. Jean couldn't even remember who initiated this although he had a fairly good feeling it was him. Experience with drinking and faint flashes of him hugging Quentin's waist were pretty good indications of that.

"Umm, well." Jean hesitated. "I shouldn't have slept with you. I'm sorry that I did. It was a mistake. I did want to thank you last night but not in this way. It was never my intention to sleep with you."

How eloquent... He thought to himself miserably. There really was no other way to put it though. He wasn't intending on sleeping with Quentin, it just happened. But he was gay and Quentin was not. And did they even use protection? Jean did not carry those things around with him so that's most likely a no. At least Quentin wasn't a woman. He could only imagine he consequences.

Just because someone hasn't left yet after a night of rough sex, did not necessarily mean that they enjoyed it. There could be any number of reasons a person stayed after having drunk sex from "I can't walk because it hurt too much" to "I'm completely in love with you since it's romantic so I'm never leaving you again." Jean really hoped it was neither but since this was what he presumed to be Quentin's first time, he really wasn't sure what to think anymore. He hadn't been so flustered, so confused, so completely out of control of the situation in years. He wanted, no, needed to calm himself and resume his normal pace of things.

Quentin finally got our from under the covers and turned to face him. It was what he had wanted but the situation just seemed so daunting now. It was only right that Jean face him head on but when it actually came time to do it, he felt apprehensive and worried. This was going to be more difficult than he anticipated.

"I-" Shit, that was a loaded question. Jean did regret last night. He shouldn't have gotten so drunk, especially with someone he hasn't yet confirmed to be a friend. He certainly shouldn't have slept with him either. And yet, from what he could remember from last night, last night was absolutely fantastic. He could have argued that because he hadn't had sex in a while he was overestimating Quentin, but that would be severely undermining the pink haired man and Jean had a gut feeling that not having had intimate contact with a male in a while was not the reason for the mind blowing sex last night. No. I don't regret it. But I do worry about you and the emotional effects of what I've done to you." Jean admitted guiltily. There was no way Quentin with his looks at this age but goddammit consequences. Jean felt like hitting his head against a wall.

"Just because we both had drinks doesn't mean that I should have come onto you. For fuck's sake, I don't know how to repay you or even apologize. How does one apologize to having gay sex with someone who's straight?" You don't, that's how.

If Jean could hear Quentin's thoughts right now he would have been offended at the insult and retorted. It would go something like this: "I am observant and yes, I can see that you dress and act in a very ambiguous fashion which I'm sure is your indication that you are possibly gay. However, you have clearly never spent long periods of time in Asia. Although it may not be the entire population, it is not unusual for men of our generation and younger to dress incredibly effeminately. Pretty boys are in and you would fit the bill perfectly. Does that make all pretty boys in Asia gay? Not necesarilly and if I went around assuming everyone that acted as ambiguously as you was gay, I would be in a lot of trouble." However, Quentin never actually said any of his opinions out loud so Jean's rant never existed.

Quentin's sudden movement was not helping the situation at all. Jean shifted his eyes to the side to avoid looking at the pink haired man. The sex had been good - great, even - and looking at Quentin's bare chest and any marks he had left after a night of passion was not the best idea when he was trying to apologize in a dignified manner. (He was well past that but he was trying.) The last thing he needed to was to get aroused into a round of morning sex.

Quentin's next words, however, made Jean turn around, flabbergasted. "What do you mean you fail to see how I managed to assume you were straight. You never gave any indication that you were anything. Sexuality can be easy to pin on some people but it is rather difficult on Asians of our generation. Need I mention that you never gave any indication when I volunteered my own sexuality when we first met?"

And suddenly it hit him and he suddenly felt like the biggest fool on the planet. "Wait, wait, wait." Jean placed his head in his hand. He had to think about his clearly. "So let me get this straight. You are gay. And based on your amused reaction to all this and your ability to judge my skill in bed, you have been with a man before."

Jean ignored the statement about breakfast. He was pretty sure he had just lost his appetite and his pride all in one fell swoop.

As much as Jean would have loved to debate the inner workings of his mind and philosophy that caused him to completely misinterpret the situation, he was currently much too busy trying to live down the embarrassment to really say anything. It was nice to finally know that Quentin wasn't completely heterosexual and not a virgin like he had believed. This saves him from the awkward scenario forming in his head of him having taken the anal virginity of some poor, straight boy. He could only imagine the implications if things had gone the same direction his imagination was going.

That said, with the way things were now it probably wouldn't be the best idea to mention to Quentin that he remembered only bits and pieces of what happened last night. Many parts were a blur and while he may remember having great sex, he didn't remember how they led up to sex or any sounds they may have made. (Which really is a shame considering how great the sex was but he digressed. He hoped that if Quentin did find out about his faulty mind he wouldn't be offended at his lack of memory.

"Right..." Jean found himself finally able to calm down and regain his usual demeanor once all the misunderstandings were cleared up. The embarrassment was still very obviously present and noticeable thanks to the blush on his face, but Jean soon found himself growing more angry and annoyed than anything else. Still, he realized that it was his on fault that this had happened. Quentin had only made use of an advantageous situation which Jean could never blame him for. The taller Asian man got out of bed and scanned the room for his clothing. "I hope you realize that I will get back at you for this," he muttered, once again ignoring the offer for breakfast.

The walk to the counter was a quick one and Jean took the brief interlude to run some ideas through his head. He was an artist of the finest caliber, his ingenuity could not be underestimated. However, of all the things that he could do, he had to make sure the punishment fit the crime. There was also the problem of finding something he could pull off within the vicinity. Two years in Los Angeles and he still did not know the city as well as he should have. Work took up far too much of his time and his life.

The more Jean thought about it, he realized that he did not know Quentin as well as he'd have liked. Knowing what the man liked and disliked would certainly help in deciding his strategy. Knowing the enemy was a key factor in war and he most certainly did not wish to underestimate Quentin.

He knew he was French-Taiwanese and was partial to melon bread. And that Quentin is bisexual. (Well, he knew now at least.) And that the pink haired man was as much a manipulative bastard as himself. Even when checking out it was obvious that Quentin was subtly charming the woman at the counter even if it was not immediately recognizable. This was going to be quite the challenge.

"Interesting is one way of putting it." There were a few choice words that would have also been suitable: humiliating, horrendous, incredible, let-us-do-it-again-without-the-alcohol. Yes there were quite a few in the English dictionary but he supposed that interesting would have to do. "It certainly is more excitement than I have had in a while. Should I be worried about what else a future with you might entail?"