 | ShatterStorm Productions
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| ShatterStorm Productions
|
Title: Oh
Author: Kat
Email: NightStar000013@aol.com
Summary: The guys wake up after a night of drinking. m/m/m/m slash implied
Rating: duh. NC-17
No spoilers and pairings of, well, all the guys!(Greg, Griss, Nick and Warrick)
Disclaimer: "The Division", "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," "Birds of Prey," "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit," the characters, and situations depicted are respectively the property of Lifetime Television, Kedzie Productions, Viacom Productions, and Paramount [The Division]; Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions [CSI: Crime Scene Investigators]; Tollin/Robbins, DC Comics, and Time/Warner via the WB [Birds of Prey]; and Wolf Films, Universal Network Television, and NBC [Law & Order: SVU]. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "The Division", "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," "Birds of Prey," "Law & Order: SVU," Lifetime Television, CBS, the WB, NBC, or any representatives of the actors.
[Please do not fold, spindle, or mutilate. Thank you. Shatterpath]
/*/*/* Person #1's POV /*/*/*
The bright sun hits my face and I moan. Slowly opening my eyes the light infiltrates my mind and with a groan my eyes are shut again. A bird is chirping in the yard next door, and yet it sounds like it's sitting on my shoulder and bellowing in my ear. My throat is dry and raw and my head feels like it's under 12 feet of water. I'm hung over. A dog barks and scratches at the door and I groan again, wondering why the hell I ever bought the mutt. Wait a minute. *When* the hell did I buy the mutt? I don't have a dog. I can't stand the creatures. I'm not in my house.
Oh shit.
/*/*/* Person #2s POV /*/*/*
The first thing I notice is that it's very dusty where I am. I cough and my throat is raw. A sharp pain goes through my head. There's an odd scratching and whimpering sound coming from not far away. The sound echoes through my cloudy mind. My eyes open slowly. It's dark. And something is very closely above me. Oh crap.
/*/*/* Person #3's POV /*/*/*
I hear my dog bark. The sound reverberates through me. My entire brain aches. And for some reason everything below my waist is numb. Weird. I try to roll over, away from the offending light coming from my right. A lightning bug's flash would send pain shooting through my skull right now. But I cannot move. I try to move my arms, both of which are spread apart and they will not obey. My legs, too, are insubordinate. Oh fuck.
/*/*/* Person #4's POV /*/*/*
There's something on top of me. And I can't move. It's heavy. It's warm. And it's…nice. Comforting in a weird if-anyone-finds-out-about-this-I'll-kill-them sort of way. My head feels like it's full of metal, my eyes are glued shut. There is something under me. Cloth. Or carpet. It's scratchy. I'll have a rash on my ass when I get up. Wait. I don't have any underwear on. I don't have anything on. I'm on someone's floor. Naked. Oh. Dear. God.
Oh damn.
/*/*/* Narrator /*/*/*
The blinds of the large picture window were open, shining noonday light in upon the room's occupants. Empty bottles of beer, vodka, black velvet, taquilla, and other alcoholic beverages laid strewn around the room mingled with other items; a whip, chocolate sauce, whip cream, handcuffs. Outside the white painted door a golden lab scratched mournfully at the door. It was 12:42. Why hadn't its master let it out yet? He had always treated him so well. Something was very wrong. He barked a few times, fully expecting to be told to shut up, as he usually was when he barked at nothing. But the house remained silent.
Oh no.
/*/*/* Person #1's POV /*/*/*
Something wet touched my ass. Then something licked my ass. I instantly shot up, stabbing my knee into something soft. A swear word was heard. I opened my eyes, but could see only a dull haze. Something large and blonde was licking my face now. Eww. Dog breath. Oh. Thank god. It was just a dog…who had just licked my naked ass. Why was I naked? I stumbled over to the apparent source of the light, tripping over glass things that, if you held just right, looked kind of like a dildo. I tugged at the curtain of the window, finally shutting them. Darkness filled the room. Good, I could see a little better now. Oh sweet Jesus.
/*/*/* Narrator /*/*/*
Grissom reached a hand out to the wall to steady himself.
"Wake up! Damn you, wake up!" he yelled at the others in the room. On the floor, clutching his naked manliness, Warrick moaned.
"I'm already up, thank you very much."
Nick's head jerked to the side once before he opened his eyes. He tried to sit up, but failed.
"What the hell?" he wondered, then looked down his naked body.
"Holy mother of fuck!" He yelled, straining against the restraints that held him spread eagle to his bed.
"Hey! Ow! Stop it!" a voice from under the bed yelled. From his place on the floor Warrick could see Greg laying under the low bed, his head getting hit by the bouncing mattress as Nick fought to free himself. Grissom sank to the floor, running his hand through his hair.
"What the hell did we do last night?" he wondered aloud. Everyone stopped and looked at him. Memories began to flood back.
"Oh shit." Greg said from under the bed.
"You can say that again," said Nick above him. Greg began to try to slowly crawl out from under the bed, but was hindered. His left side wouldn't move. Looking over he groaned. His left wrist was handcuffed to his left ankle.
"I do *not* want to know." He mumbled and continued his odd scootch out from under the bunk.
"Dude, I'm going to have a rash." He groaned.
"Uh…I already have one…" Nick noticed, looking down at himself. The dog, a golden lab named Clover, jumped up on her owner, the bottle of chocolate syrup in her mouth.
"Oh God. What did we do with *that *?" Nick groaned as his dog laid her head on his naked chest and began lapping up the syrup.
"Um…you." Greg answered watching the dog notice chocolate on her master's thigh and move to lick it up.
"Oh, God that tickles!" Nick yelled. Greg grinned.
"I believe that's the same thing you said last night."
"Oh, God. No, Clover. Don't eat the chocolate. Get down." Nick commanded. The dog instantly obeyed.
"Um, guys?" Greg asked holding up a bright pink vibrator.
"Oh…sweet…Jesus. You and Warrick…and then the handcuffs…Oh!" Images flooded back into Nick's mind as he remembered his co-workers actions with the contraption.
"We were drunk." Was all that Warrick said.
"'I swear to drunk I'm not fucking God!' I seem to remember someone saying."
"It was you."
"Oh, yeah." Nick answered quietly. Everyone was silent for a moment before Nick started struggling against the ropes again with renewed vengeance.
"Will someone get these damned things off of me?"
"Yeah, sure." Grissom started to get up, only to trip over a whip. Picking it up, he showed it to Nick, both men suddenly remembering the kinky games the object had been used in.
"Sorry about that." Nick just laid his head back with a groan. He couldn't believe it. Once untied Nick stood up, stretching. His head hurt like hell and so did his back. Looking over his shoulder he saw the red, livid cuts from the whip. Grissom looked apologetically at him. Meanwhile, Clover had made her way over to Greg and was licking his head eagerly.
"Hey! What are you doing?" He asked, falling back on his back, knocking into the empty tub of whipped cream.
"Oh, yeah."
"Anyone seen my pants?" Nick called, looking absently around. Warrick glanced around also, only to spot a little red light.
"Uh, Nick?" He asked, pointing. On the dresser, next to the television, sat a video camera. On and running.
"Oh, God."
"Well, Griss, you asked what we did last night. There you go. Pop it in and find out."
"Don't say, "pop it in!"" Greg yelled, another memory coming to light for him.
"Do we watch it?'
"I think we have to."
"First I vote we find our damn pants!" Nick called, "In case you guys haven't noticed we're all still naked!"
The men looked around but to no avail. Nick was in luck, however. It was his house. Opening the closet he grabbed a pair of sweat pants and tugged them gingerly on.
"Screw our pants. Nick, do you have any Tylenol? My head's killin' me!" Warrick exclaimed. The others agreed.
"Yeah, in the bathroom." Nick pointed toward the little door leading off from the bedroom. Warrick went in.
"Ah, guys! I found our pants!" He called. The bathtub was full of water and scented bubbles. Floating among the bubbles was everyone's clothes. Everybody stood silently for a minute, trying to remember what had happened. All at once they remembered, and all at once they groaned. Returning to the bedroom, Nick threw Grissom his robe and Warrick and Greg sweat pants.
"Y'all can keep them too." He said as Warrick put the tape in the VCR. Everyone sat down on the bed to watch.
~*~
"Oh! Oh jeez!" Greg was saying as the scenes played out in front of him.
"Hey, Nick! I never knew you were double jointed!" Warrick commented.
"Neither did I." Was the only answer. On the screen, someone screamed shrilly.
"Sorry 'bout that Greggy."
"Woah. I've *never* seen anyone get in that position before."
"Thank you." Answered Nick and Greg at the same time.
" So *that's* what we used the light bulb for…that had to hurt."
"It did." Grissom replied grimly. Finally the tape ended. Everyone looked at each other.
"God, someone pass me a bottle of vodka. 100 proof." Nick broke the silence. Everyone agreed to that.
" I, ah, we all have the next four days off." Grissom announced. Warrick raised his glass to his bosses.
"Thanks, Griss."
"And let's agree *never* to talk about this."
"Agreed!" Nick said as he took the tape and threw it in the fireplace.
"Now I'm going to go sterilise my bedroom." Nick pulled off the sheets and a dog leach and collar fell out.
"Oh."
The End
