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This was a continuation of this request here. You can read it but it's not necessary.
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Even though her and Dean don’t sleep in the same bed anymore, he somehow always manages to wake her up when he’s getting the kids ready for school. She swears that he spends time in the kitchen slamming cupboards and drawers and letting the kids run around while stopping their feet as loud as they can.
Not to manage the front door closing.
This morning though it’s part Dean and part something else that wakes her.
Her stomach lurches painfully in her abdomen and she has to rush to the bathroom, nearly tripping over her own feet to get to the toilet before she vomits. Great. Looks like planning on doing anything today is out of the question, she’s going to be nursing this hangover for the better part of hours.
She should know better than letting her girl’s nights getting out of control…she wonders if the other two are just as terrible. Beth has always had the worst hangovers ever since she was a teenager. She’s either exactly like this with a terrible headache to match or nauseous all day.
She can’t go back to bed and a shower sounds like it might kill her so she settles for changing her clothes, brushing her teeth and washing her face, brushing her teeth again and making her way downstairs.
Beth chews on her lower lip as she considers if she can stomach a cup of tea because coffee won’t cut it right now despite how much her body wants it. She pinches the bridge of her nose and hears a gentle rapping on her back-porch window.
She knows who it is before she even opens the door, her face squishing like she’s sucking on a lemon at the direct sunlight.
“That bad, hmm?”
Beth groans in response but lets Rio step over the threshold, quickly closing the door.
“Why are you up so early?”
“Why are you here so early?” She all but snaps and watches him smirk, just slightly, before setting down a small greasy paper bag on her kitchen counter.
“Hangover cure. Thought you might need it.”
She doesn’t even want to know what’s in that bag, the very sight of it making her feel nauseous again. “Think I’m going to be sick.”
“Swear it works, just drink a lot of water.”
Beth leans her elbows down on the counter, waiting for water to boil on the stove, her head in her hands as her fingers rake through her hair.
“Please don’t tell me we have something business related to do today because I don’t think I’m going to make it through the next hour.” She rubs her temples, the sudden weight of last night crashing down around her with Rio’s presence suddenly in her kitchen.
He smells nice despite how sick she feels, the warmth of his body pressing against her side as he pulls an island chair out to sit on it. His hands were firm and smooth as they helped her into his car, lips against her forehead as he—
Oh god.
Beth’s eyes snap open as she pulls her hands away from her face.
She asked him to kiss her last night.
“You always this dramatic hung over?”
Beth can’t answer him, her body starting to spiral alongside the memories from last night tugging her ribcage down into her legs; like she’s about to sink into the floor. She can see Rio tilt his head at her in the corner of her vision, his hand moving to slide down her back, fingers pausing on her spine.
“Hey, you’re shakin’.”
“You didn’t kiss me last night.”
He pauses, his hand slipping from her back until it’s hanging loosely by his side. Rio holds her gaze for a long moment before he runs a hand over the lower half of his face, that muscle twitching in his jawline.
“Nah, not like that.”
Beth turns a little and runs a hand through her hair, trying to get it out of her face. She can hear the tea kettle percolating behind her, getting ready to steam. “Then how?”
Rio opens his mouth a moment, hesitates, chews on the words before, “Is that an invitation?”
A soft smile quirks at the end of her lips, “You need to RSVP?”
Before the last letter is out of her mouth, he sinks forward and captures her lips with his own. The kiss is slow, detailed, intimate, taking his time to map her out. She shudders, leaning into it, her hand grounding itself by settling on his thigh and squeezing.
Rio inches the chair forward, the legs skidding against the floor, so loud in such a small space. He wraps his arm around her to pull her between his legs, holding her in place, tilting his chin to deepen the kiss before the water boils.
They pull apart at the whistle, a gentle panting of exchanging oxygen, Beth finally having to pull away to turn the stove off and fill up an awaiting mug with hot water. Rio stands from the chair while she dunks the tea bag, glancing at the porch door.
“You have somewhere to be?”
He nods and watches her a moment, pushing hair out of her face with his pinky finger.
“Think I can convince you to stay…” Beth trails off, looking up at him, something hopeful wrapping around her words and squeezing.
He does.