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Still In My Bed	By : AEMorgan Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Bon Jovi Views: 1251 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Bon Jovi. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Still In My Bed
- 1
Title: Still In My Bed
Author: Adelaide Elizabeth Morgan (falconkenobi@aol.com)
Author Web Page: http://www.aemslash.co.uk Every Generation Has A Legend
Fandom: RPS – Bon Jovi
Categories: Jon Bon Jovi/David Bryan, Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora, angst
Rating: NC17
Archive: Yes, to list archives and TAOS. All others please let me know so I can come preen.
Feedback: Adored it? Loathed it? Couldn’t give a damn either way? Let me know; I love hearing what you think
Thanks to: You, for reading this. Paul, for being patient and understanding when I disappear into the computer room for days on end to write. Riticulan, as ever, for the beta. Jon Bon Jovi & Richie Sambora, for the song ‘Bed Of Roses’ that inspired this piece
Disclaimer: Jon Bon Jovi and David Bryan are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it.
Summary: ‘There’s a bottle of vodka still lodged in my head and some blond gave me nightmares I think that [he’s] still in my bed’

Jon came awake with a groan. His head was pounding, his eyes hurt and he felt sick. No, scratch that, he decided as his stomach churned; he was going to be sick. He scrambled out of bed, legs tangling in the sheets. He fell to the floor landing on his ass with a thump. Hauling himself to his feet, he stumbled across the room and into the bathroom, collapsing to his knees as he prayed at the altar of the porcelain god.

After he’d emptied his stomach, he rocked back on his heels and scrubbed his hands over his face. He pulled himself to his feet using the toilet for support and turned to face the sink. Cupping his hands under the tap, he splashed cold water over his face, then drank some straight from the tap.

He straightened up and peered blearily at his reflection. He looked like shit. Which, considering the way he felt, was pretty damn good. His head was pounding – felt like there was a marching band parading through it. His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth felt all woolly. How much had he drunk last night?

There was a familiar ache in his ass as well. Felt like he’d been fucked, and hard as well. But… Jon frowned; He couldn’t have had sex last night, he’d had a fight with Richie and they’d gone to their respective rooms. Alone.

Twisting his head back, Jon slid his boxers down slightly. Bruises. On his hips. In the shape of fingers. Well, that confirmed it. He’d had sex last night. But when? And with whom?

He sighed and started to shake his head, stopping when a dull ache started throbbing in his skull. Pulling his boxers back up, he wandered back into the main room, picking his jeans up from the floor as he did. Slipping into his jeans, he noticed the empty Vodka bottle on the table. Well, that certainly explained the hangover.

Jon ran his fingers through his hair and curled up in one of the chairs. He looked around hism; nm; nothing else looked out of place. Except for the lump in the bed. He swallowed heavily. There was someone in his bed. And he couldn’t remember who it was. Couldn’t see who it was either because they were under the covers.

It was Richie, Jon told himself. It had to be Richie. Jon nodded slowly to himself; there was no other explanation. Richie had obviously followed Jon back to his room and they’d made up. Which made Jon feel a hell of a lot better.

He relaxed back into the chair, crossing his legs under him and waited for Richie to wake up. Only… Jon frowned as Richie started to stir. He paled, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn’t Richie. Richie didn’t have curly blond hair. The only person Jon knew with hair like that was… David. He’d slept with David?

As though on cue, David rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, pushing the duvet down the bed. With a smile on his face, he sat up and looked around, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. Seeing Jon curled up in the seat, his smile grew even wider.

“Hey.” Jon didn’t reply. David frowned at the pale,ost ost panicked look on Jon’s face. “Jon, what’s wrong?”

Jon’s eyes widened when he realised David was naked and hard. He shook his head, opening and closing his mouth, but not saying anything.

David grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around his waist. He moved to sit on the end of the bed, facing Jon.

“You… What… I… Oh, God.” Jon buried his head in his hands, a faint blush streaking his cheeks red.

“Jon, look at me,” David requested softly, relieved when Jon looked up. He ran his hands over his face. “Last night, you… you don’t remember any of it, do you?”

“I…” Jon shook his head, refusing to meet David’s eyes. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”

“Oh.” David’s face fell and he suddenly felt very self-conscious, wrapping the sheet tighter around him, eyes darting around the room as he located his clothes. He thought about getting up to get them but that would involve moving and he was naked beneath the sheet. Both he and Jon were uncomfortable enough as it was without his parading about wearing just his birthday suit.

The silence hung awkwardly in the air between them and David prayed this wasn’t going to ruin their friendship; he knew it was his fault if it did. He’d known Jon was drunk and took advantage of him. David moaned quietly, tugging at his hair in frustration. Had Jon even wanted…He swallowed, bile rising in his throat. Oh God, he’d all but raped one of his best friends!

David wanted to say something, anything to make it alright but… Words didn’t exist to fix this situation so he just sat there silently, watching Jon. “What do you remember?” He asked slowly, not sure if he wanted to know.

Jon tensed, wincing as another wave of pain rushed through his head, flashes of the night before coming back to him.

A group of pretty girls in the bar… Richie getting jealous… an argument…Jon trying not to cry…Richie storming off… Jon going to the bar… David following him back to his room… Jon kissing David…

Jon moaned, holding his head in his hands. “Richie’s gonna kill me,” he muttered half under his breath.

“Richie?” David frowned. “What’s he got to do with… Oh! You and Richie… you’re…?” He gestured vaguely, unable to bring himself to say the word ‘lovers’, a wave of jealousy rushing through him.

“Yeah.”

“I… I didn’t know. How long?”

“Nearly 3 months. We… we weren’t ready for anyone to know yet. And now I’ve gone and fucked everything up.” He sighed and stared down at the carpet, harshly blinking back the tears pricking in his eyes, refusing to meet David’s concerned gaze.

“What happened, JB?” David’s initial shock and embarrassment soon gave way to feelings of worry and concern for his friend.

Jon smiled slightly at David’s use of his old school nickname, but still didn’t look up. “We…” he swallowed hard, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “We had an argument. I was talking to a group of girls in the bar. Just joking about with them. Richie stormed out and I followed him to see what was wrong. He accused me of cheating on him with them. Said I needed to learn to keep my hands to myself and that I was nothing more than a cheap slut.”

“He said what?” David’s voice was low and anger-filled, a hint of incredulity in his tone. He slid off the bed, kneeling down in front of Jon. “He had no right to call you that, Jon.”

Jon choked back a sob. “He was right, Dave. Our first fight and look what happens.” A lone tear slid down his cheek and he brushed it away with the back of his hand.

“Jon…” David sighed, reaching out to cup Jon’s cheek in his hand. “Listen to me… Richie… You are not a… a slut. Richie had no damn right saying you are, and don’t you dare believe him.” He wiped away another tear that slid down Jon’s cheek. Jon looked up and their eyes met. “You’re funny, and caring, and good looking. And far too good for a possessive shit like Richie Sambora!” David declared, leaning forward to kiss Jon gently on the lips.

Jon’s eyes widened and he accepted the kiss momentarily before shoving David backward. David fell to the floor, blinking confusedly up at Jon; Jon hadn’t pushed him away last night… He frowned but didn’t move, watching as Jon started chewing on a thumbnail.

Jon shook his head. “What happened last night?” he asked hesitantly. “I… I remember…I remember fighting with Richie and then I remember kissing you, but…”

“I was in the bar when you bought the vodka. You were really cut up about something. I came up here to see if you were ok. You… You looked like you’d been crying and when I asked you what was wrong you started kissing me. Things… kinda… umm… progressed from there but I’m guessing you don’t really want details.”

“No, I’m fairly sure I can work out what happened.” Jon buried his head in hands again. “Oh God,” he moaned. “What am I going to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

Jon looked up, startled. David was right, he realised. He did have a choice in what happened now. The look of surprise shifted quickly to be replaced by determination. “Richie,” he decided, rising to his feet. “I have to talk to Richie, make him understand.” Jon nodded to himself as he grabbed a t-shirt from his suitcase, pulling it on over his head.

“Even after what he called you?” David couldn’t keep the surprise out of his tone. He perched on the edge of the bed, watching Jon pacing around the room, running his fingers through his hair.

Jon stopped pacing and turned to face to David. “I love him, David. And I’m not going to lose him over … over something as trivial as this.”

“You call sleeping with someone else... with me… trivial?” David laughed dryly. “What about last night, JB? What about me?”

Jon frowned and shook his head. “I don’t…” he trailed off, not understanding what David was saying.

“I love you, Jon. I’ve wanted you for so fucking long. Last night… Last night was like a dream come true.”

Jon took a step back, shaking his head, face turning pale. “David, I… No, I can’t deal with this. Not now.”

“Deal with this!?”David exclaimed. “You can’t deal with this. I tell you I love you and you can’t deal with it!” He choked back a sob, his voice rising in near hysteria. “Last night… what we did… doesn’t it mean anything to you? Don’t I mean anything to you?”

“What do you want me to say, Dave? You’re my friend, but that’s all. I don’t feel the same way. I… I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be, but…” he shook his head. “What happened last night was a mistake, I was drunk and….”

“And what? I was just a… a convenient fuck to make you feel better?” David dressed quickly and made his way over to the door. “You told me you needed me, Jon.” He looked over his shoulder at Jon, but the singer didn’t react. David laughed humourlessly as he opened the door. “Richie was right,” he ground out. “The way you toy with people’s feelings and then toss them to the side when you grow bored with them… You’re nothing more than a fucking cheap slut.”

“How dare you!” Richie growled as he pushed David back in the room. David tripped and fell backward to the floor. Richie pulled him to his feet, slamming him against the wall. “How dare you call him that! Take it back and apologise, now!”

David laughed. “Oh, so you’re allowed to insult your boyfriend but no one else is?” Richie flinched at David’s words but didn’t loosen his grip on him. “Is that how it works, Richie? You bully Jon and push him around and he goes out and gets fucked by someone else”

“That’s enough” Jon dragged Richie backward and David slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “Both of you stop it!” He stood between them, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the pair.

“You… you slept with David?”

Jon ignored Richie’s question, turning his attention to David. He gave him a hand up. “I think you should leave.” David nodded and started to make his way over to the door.

Richie shook his head, blocking the door. “No. I think he should stay. I want to know al bout your little… tryst.”

“Richie…” Jon sighed; the sigh turning to a moan as he clutched his head in his hands, another bolt of pain shooting through his skull.

Richie was at his side instantly. “Jon?” Jon opened his mouth to reply but all that came out was a low moan and he swayed slightly. Richie swore under his breath, arms going around Jon as he steered him toward the bed, pushing him down onto it. Jon sat with his head cradled in his hands; Richie crouched down in front of him and David sat next to him.

“I’m OK,” Jon reassured them weakly.

Richie resisted the temptation to reach out to his lover, not sure how Jon would react to his touch. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Satisfied that Jon wasn’t going to pass out or anything, Richie turned to David with a glare. “Apologise,” he hissed.

David sighed. “Jon, I… I shouldn’t have called you what I did,” he apologised. “I was angry and I lashed out, knowing how much it would hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry if what I said earlier offended you. It was never my intention to hurt you.” He shook his head, smiling weakly. “I do love you, Davey. But only as a friend, not that you l… not the way you want me to love you. And I’m sorry if what happened last night make you think otherwise. You’re one of my best friends, David, and I don’t want to lose you.” David returned the smile, a grateful look in his eyes. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” Jon asked.

David nodded, feeling very conscious of the look of disgust and loathing Richie gave him. He turned to face the guitarist, a set expression on his face. Richie grabbed hold of David’s arms and pulled him to his feet, propelling him to the door.

“Get out!” He sneered, pushing David out and slamming the door behind him.

Jon flinched at the bang, but didn’t look up. Neither man spoke for what seemed like an eternity, Jon staring at the carpet, watching Richie’s feet pass him time and again as he paced the room.

“What?” Jon mumbled, not looking up.

“You know, just because I called you a slut didn’t mean you had to go out and act like one.” Jon cringed, tensing at Richie’s words. “You didn’t have to go out and get fucked by the first person who was willing.”

“No…” Jon moaned, shaking his head.

“Shit! I’m sorry, Jon. I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t understand. Why’d you do it? Why did you sleep with David?”

Jon shrugged his shoulders, tugging at his hair in frustration. “Dunno,” he admitted. “What you said, what you called me, it hurt, Richie. And… and I was drunk…”

“What?” Richie balled his hands into fists as he knelt down in front of Jon. “You were drunk?” His eyes narrowed and he tipped Jon’s chin up, forcing the younger man to look at him. “Jon, did David take advantage of that? Did he force you to have sex with him?”

“Richie, no….” Jon shook his head, grabbing Richie’s arm. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh… You… You wanted David?”

“Yes. No. I don’t…”

Jon kissing David, pulling him into the room. David pushing Jon up against he wall, lips and hands exploring. Both of them ripping each others clothing off as they fell to the bed

Jon blinked back tears as he met Richie’s eyes. “I don’t remember. But…” he paused, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Richie helped Jon to his feet, arms around his waist as he steered him to the bathroom. He crouched down next to Jon, rubbing his back as he was sick, handing him a glass of water when he’d finished.

Jon took a sip of the water. “Thanks,” he smiled gratefully, pulling himself to his feet, steadying himself with a hand on Richie’s shoulder.

Back in the bedroom, Jon curled up in the chair again, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. Richie sat on the bed opposite, frowning at the empty vodka bottle.

“Jon, please tell me you didn’t drink that whole bottle on your own.”

“Um… it’s empty, right?” Richie nodded and Jon shrugged his shoulders, staring intently at the patterns in the carpet. “Then yeah, I guess I did.”

“Oh you stupid little…” he broke off with an affectionate sigh, his expression turning sombre. “Jon…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was way out of line calling you a slut. I was drunk and jealous watching you with those girls. I know that you were just flirting and that you wouldn’t cheat, but… No, there’s no excuse. I over-reacted and I’m sorry.”

“It hurt, Richie. You really hurt me. I… Is that really what you think of me? Is that what I am, a slut?”

“No! Oh God, no. Far from it. And don’t you dare believe it, not even for a fucking second, Jon. I didn’t mean it, I promise. I was drunk and angry and jealous but I shouldn’t have said it. You have no idea how sorry I am and how much I feel like a shit for saying it. David…” Richie sighed, cupping Jon’s cheek in his hand, brushing away the tears clinging to his eyelashes. “David was lashing out. You’d just turned him down, he was hurt and he said it because he damn well knew how much it would hurt you. You’re not a slut, Jon. You’re kind and gentle, loving, smart, sensitive, funny, good looking…” Richie smiled at the blush creeping up Jon’s cheeks at the compliment. He leaned forward, kissing Jon gently. “And I love you.”

Jon sucked in a long shaky breath, falling forward into Richie’s arms. He buried his face in Richie’s neck, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he cried, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. Richie held Jon tight, rocking him gently, running his fingers through his hair, and letting him cry until the worst of the sobs had subsided.

“Jon?”

“You… you still love me?” He sniffed. “Even after what I’ve done?”

Richie nodded. “Of course I still love you. Last night… I don’t blame you for what happened. You were drunk, David knew that and he should never have let anything happen.”

“I kissed him first,” Jon confessed quietly

“Doesn’t matter,” Richie reassured him. “If David cares for you as much as he says he does, he wouldn’t have let it go any further. He should have pushed you away or something…” Richie exhaled heavily, grinding his teeth together, still very pissed off at David.

“Richie, I… I think you should apologise to David.”

“What? No way, Jon. What he said to you was…”

“Out of line, the same as it was when you said it.” Richie flinched and ducked his head, knowing what Jon said was true. “But it was out of line for you to attack him like that. He’s my friend, our friend, and I don’t want our friendship ruined.”

Richie smiled; only Jon would be thinking like that after what had happened. He nodded. “Ok, I’ll have a word with him this afternoon if I see him.”

“Thanks,” Jon returned the smile with a shaky sigh, pulling back far enough to kiss Richie. “I love you so damn much, Richie. I thought… I thought I’d fucked things up so much that I was gonna lose you. And then I wouldn’t have been able to face Dave or you and…”

Richie placed a finger over Jon’s lips to shush him. “Hey… slow down there, baby. We both messed up, Jon, not just you. We’ve both done and said things we regret and now we have to work through them. Together – if you still want that” ‘If you still want me’, hung unspoken in the air between them.

“Of course I still want you,” Jon kissed Richie again, pulling him up to lie on the bed. Richie held Jon against his chest, holding him tightly, Jon’s arms wrapped around Richie just as tightly.

That evening found a very apprehensive David approaching Jon and Richie’s table in the bar. Both Jon and Richie had spoken to him that afternoon, but things were understandably still tense between the three of them.

Jon looked up with a smile when he saw David. “Hey.”

“Hey.” David returned the smile, avoiding looking at Richie. “Is… Is everything ok?”

Richie squeezed Jon’s hand under the table, rubbing his thumb gently over the skin and Jon grinned up at him. Turning back to David, Jon nodded.

“Yeah, Dave, everything’s just fine”

~el fin~
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Still In My Bed