Work Text:
01/10/2021
Who's Your Daddy and it's characters don't belong to me. I am borrowing them for a while, to explore a section of the story that wasn't really covered in the manhwa. And i can't remember the butler's name.
The Morning After
By zuzanny
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Louis' first thought on waking was "Oh shit, I've got food poisoning!"
He scrambled out of bed as quickly as he could and staggered to the ensuit, hoping he would make it in time and point the right end at the toilet.
Thankfully he did make it in time, though it was a close thing. As he sat, his eyes closed and head pounding, he breathed through his nausea and slowly became aware of strange, small hurts scattered across his body. Muscular aches in his thighs and back that spoke of unusual exercise, and small stinging areas, like cuts, we scattered in strange places. While the majority of his discomfort was focused on his bowels and groin, these other hurts confused him. "Did I get into a fight last night?" He wondered. "Am I in hospital?"
Slowly he opened his eyes, looking around the pale walls that were the ensuite, dimly lit in the early morning light from a single skylight. It was too spacious and even luxurious to be a general hospital bathroom, and what he remembered of the bedroom from his mad rush in here, was also too large and luxurious to be a hospital. It was more like he was in a hotel. Which was strange. How did he get here? He tried to think, but his brain was slow and foggy.
He shivered, and realised he was naked. Finally looking down at himself, expecting to see knife wounds or something of that ilk, he was shocked to see bite marks on his inner thigh, chest and abdomen. He was covered in bruises, no, hickies! And there were marks like someone had gripped him hard about his hips. And was that also a bite mark on his arse? Even with how flexible he was, he couldn't twist around to look at this angle to be sure. He would need to look in the mirror to check. The bite marks looked human, not animal. But... He blinked, trying to comprehend what this all meant. What happened? Last night... He had come home from guard duty to get ready for the royal ball. His sister had wanted to come this time, but she had a cold. She had complemented him on his clothes and mask, saying he was so handsome, and surely some lady would snap him up that night. He had laughed that off awkwardly. Who cared about looks and relationships? He had too much work to do. He went to these balls because it was expected of him, nothing else. And normally the food was of a particular high standard that was hard to get. He had travelled to the ball by carriage... But after that? It was a blank.
He rubbed his temples, trying to ease his headache. Maybe some lady had snapped him up after all? If so, where was she? And why didn't he remember all the... Teeth marks? Surely he couldn't have gotten so drunk to have blacked out? He was usually very careful with his alcohol consumption because of active duty the next day. But this ball was set the night before a rostered day off, so maybe he... Lost track? That must have been it. He must have decided to relax and drink more than usual, which would have lead to more drinking, far more than he was used to, and then more on top of that.
So who was the lady? And what state would she have been in if he was like this? He hoped she was ok, that she wouldn't be offended by his not recalling their night together. Oh no, what if she got pregnant from this? Well, he would just have to take responsibility and marry her. He nodded his head. He would do right by her.
He went to wipe himself and froze at the unexpected tenderness he felt there. That was NOT normal, even after a bout of sever food poisoning diarrhoea. He withdrew his hand to look at the paper and saw blood. Not enough to signify a gaping wound or burst internal organs, but enough to signify other kinds of actions.
Oh.
"Oh." He breathed.
So. His partner last night had been a man. Not a woman. And he had been... On the receiving end of things. Hmmm. Ok. So. That. It... It happens. Sometimes. It didn't need to mean anything. At all. He just got really, really drunk and made a mistake that ended up in sex. With another man. Ok. He didn't feel...HURT in any particular way that would suggest violence. Maybe the man had been rough, maybe not. Louis had nothing to compare to to be able to tell. But he didn't see any indication that he was dragged here unconscious or against his will. So that means it must have been consensual. Maybe the man also had been really drunk and... Mistook him for a woman? That can happen, right? Right?
The next thing Louis was aware of was that he was standing in the shower with freezing water pouring over him. It made him yelp and fiddle with the taps. The hot water was out. His skin felt raw, like he had been standing under boiling water and scrubbed himself with steel wool. Yet he felt dirty. Louis pressed his forehead agains the tiles and let the freezing water pelt down across his back. It hurt, but he deserved it for getting himself too drunk to begin with. He was such an idiot.
But enough of that! He was the leader of Section 2! So what if he got drunk and some guy fucked him up the arse? That didn't change who he was! Get it together man! Louis grabbed the provided soap and cloth and lathered himself up with determination. Cold water wasn't going to harm him. He was fine.
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There was a plane white card on the bedside when he stepped out of the ensuite. "Call me" was written on it in fine, vaguely familiar, cursive. That was all. Louis checked both sides just in case. Nope. No name or contact details of any kind. He giggled to himself, not at all with any hint of hysteria thankyouverymuch, as he contemplated calling this man even if he knew who to call. How awkward it would be. "Hi, you actually don't know me, but I'm the guy you fucked at the hotel last night. And it was so good I cant remember a single moment of it, and I don't remember you. Want to go get some coffee?" He stared at the writing for a few moments trying to figure out who this person could have even been. Should he keep the card? No. There was no point. This mistake was just a one night thing. It's not like he could get pregnant. He had more important things to do than worry about chasing down a bed partner, especially if that bed partner potentially wanted a relationship. What did men do together anyway? Buy each other flowers and chocolates? He had no idea.
He crushed the card in one hand, and tossed it in the bin.
As he redressed in his clothing from the ball (which he found flung around the room) he decided he was going to be even more careful about consuming alcohol at parties. He felt queasy just thinking about wine.
He ran back to the ensuite and made it just in time to vomit bile.
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The girl at the front desk down stairs told him the room was already paid for, and thanked him for his patronage. She held no recognition in his brain, and did not look at him with any form of curiosity, contempt, or anything else that indicated he was anything other than just another client in her eyes. He asked her (hopefully discreetly) about if there were any night staff still on, and she told him they all changed shifts at first light. She then tilted her head to the side and asked him why he was asking. Louise immediately backed off, not wanting to engage her curiosity towards him.. Although he would have loved to check out the books to find out who he had come in with... But seeing as she was not gushing at the idea of hosting a Royal, or a celebrity, and generally any high ranking person of import... Louise figured that who ever was his partner probably used an alias anyway.
As he left the building she thanked him and bid him come again.
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Out on the street Louis was relieved to discover he knew where he was, and so headed towards the main street to hail a carriage. There were a few people about, but it was still fairly early so not enough to feed roumors by too many people seeing him leave a hotel the morning after a royal ball. Still he was thankful that despite having an ache in his guts and his muscle stiffness he was able to walk without a limp. People who say you could identify a homosexual person by their limp really didn't know what they were talking about. He was also thankful that who ever his partner had been, they had been kind enough not to mark him anywhere his clothes couldn't cover.
The carriage ride home was probably the bumpiest and most uncomfortable thing he had ever expereinced in his life. By the time he stumbled out in front of his mansion he was struggling not to vomit again.
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Mr. Butler opened the front door before he could even reach the handle, his eye brows raising tall, but otherwise making no comment apart from "Welcome home, Master Lewis. Would you like some breakfast?"
The thought of greasy food such as eggs and bacon made his stomach turn dangerously.
"You look rather pale, Sir. Are you alright?"
"I think I ate something last night that didn't agree with me." Louis replied, letting the man take his coat and follow him to his chambers. "I spent most of the morning with diarrhoea."
"I will bring you ginger tea and sliced apples then, Sir. Go rest. If it gets worse I will call in the doctor."
"Thank you." After Mr. Butler left Louis changed into his most covering of pyjamas, crawled under the thick blankets and lay on his side. He drew his knees to his chest in an attempt to ease his stomach ache. He hoped no one would question why he was choosing to cover himself so, but he didn't want to risk anyone seeing evidence of his mistake.
He was asleep before Mr. Butler returned and left the tea and apple by his bedside.
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The next morning he returned to work determined to put all thoughts of The Mistake and his Mystery Man behind him.
A week to the day after The Mistake, Louis woke to painful and slightly swollen nipples. The swelling wasn't enough to be noticeable through his shirts, but when ever the material brushed against his chest, he felt like someone was poking bruises there. But he threw any concern about this out the window with the dregs of his morning ginger tea. The worst of his food poisoning symptoms had lasted only a day, only with a lingering sense of nausea at times. Especially if he was expected to eat any meat dishes. Maybe he caught his sister's cold? Or maybe the sparing session in training was a little rougher than expected? There was no need to be concerned.
A month to the day after The Mistake, Louis woke up vomiting.
Then the dreams started.