Summary: There was a party, Vyvyan hooked up. Vyvyan isn't sure why this makes Rick so upset or why he's worried about Rick being upset. The original female character is not a central character and Rivyan is the focus.

Much love to the people who kept me going writing this. You b'stards on Skype are awesome, you know who you are.

If you like this review it. If you don't, review it anyway and tell me why.

"Congratulations, Vyvyan Basterd! You are the new lager-drinking champion! Here is your prize: an unlimited supply of lager and here is a bird that already thinks you are amazingly clever and handsome and can't wait to have a little wriggle with you! She's even going to help you get home from the pub! Give him a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!"

Vyvyan smiled and wriggled slightly in his sleep, brushing against a warm and soft body that was far too smooth, large and clean to be SPG. His dream broke but the body remained. He opened an eye suspiciously. The other body was still warm and seemingly human. The punk attempted to orientate himself through the dry mouth, pounding headache and body aches only a night drinking and pummeling Neil could accomplish. The long hair he had to pull off his forehead studs only confirmed it.

He was sleeping the right way 'round, that was new, and as he wiggled his filthy socks he came to the conclusion that he wasn't even wearing his boots, let alone the rest of his kit.

He opened his other eye, pushing the blanket down a bit to stare at the woman who now was staring back at him.

"Welcome to the land of the living," she said, a soft voice with a lingering accent he couldn't quite place. She pulled the covers closer to her chin, covering up her chest but doing so quietly rather than quickly. She had brown hair, not the red-tinted blonde of his dream. Her eyes were a muddy green-brown, too much of a real-life touch for this to be the dream continuing.

"Ah, haha, hello," Vyvyan replied, swallowing around the the Sahara desert in his mouth. She was talking to him, not shrieking or hitting him. This threw him off balance. "This is a silly question," he paused to chuckle nervously, "but you're a proper girl, aren't you? I will admit that a couple of my flatmates are very, very girly, but you look like a proper girl."

The proper girl smiled and reached over to pat Vyv on the head, smoothing out a dented part of his tri-hawk. He flinched but she didn't seem to notice.

"You did have a lot to drink last night, didn't you? Yes, I'm a girl and if what we did last night is any indication, you are a very proper boy." She winked and Vyvyan responded with something akin to a modest giggle. He was now completely confused. He was very happy that he was no longer a virgin, apparently, but he was very, very confused. Apparently losing your virginity wasn't like breaking an arm or at least like getting a real big whacking bruise. The punk didn't seem to be sore like he expected he would be, other than the usual party after-effects and general malaise from his rough and tumble lifestyle. He didn't even remember losing it.

He felt her trail a hand down his arm under the covers, and goose bumps appeared on the surface despite the warmth of the blanket. She pushed back, sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, letting the covers drift behind her. She started to put on clothes, babbling about having a good time and wondering why she hadn't known about him before; he should come to college more often. Vyvyan smiled politely as he eyed the way she put on a bra with a curiosity of someone who had never seen it done.

Shards of memory came back to him like a bad clip show. Watching Mike showing off near the kitchen table and graciously offering some girls a place to sleep (with him) and a pretty girl with brown hair and muddy green eyes slapping him and storming away to steal a drink from Neil.

There was lots of drinking. He remembered imprisoning Rick in the fridge with the moldy things that some suspected were alive at one point - and still were - and delighting in the angry shrieks. A smile played on his lips. Those shrieks quickly became pandering apologies for things he didn't even do. Rick would say anything to get out of the fridge and back to the party. All this was overlaid with music he didn't particularly like. Still, this was far better than the Cliff Richard Rick insisted on playing with running commentary on how "ah-mazing" Cliff was. He remembered him trying that at the beginning of the party. That was probably why he shoved him into the fridge. He smiled at the thought.

His bed companion noticed the smile on his face and, thinking she was the cause, she sashayed her hips a little as she pulled her jeans up. "You liked the view last night, too. I thought you were going to cry when I took my shirt off." That brought him out of his thoughts. There was no malice in her tone, just a little teasing but it was warm. "Not that my view was shit. Even drunk, you're pretty." She buttoned her jeans and then sat next to Vyvyan to put on her shoes, ones that could easily be mistaken for Rick's red winkle-pickers. In fact, the black and red punk band shirt with leather jacket she was wearing really reminded him of something Rick used to wear.

With her fully dressed and him wearing socks and a blanket, he decided to avoid trying to get up and get dressed.

"Pass me those?" he squeaked out, referring to the clothes he usually slept in, feeling shy despite last nights adventures. He pulled the covers tighter around him, trying to draw attention away from the bulge in the dirty blanket. He heard her chuckle as she tossed him his pants and jeans with a flick of her wrist. He caught them and turned away as he pulled them on, feeling like he should be embarrassed that they weren't even remotely clean.

"Your pal Mike could learn a thing or two about modesty from you, Vyvyan. He has the lamest pick-up lines… not that yours are any better. He could teach you how to wash clothes, though. I thought your socks were going to come to life and try to make a run for it." Vyv's eyes widened slightly. She didn't know about the Laundromat, and Vyvyan definitely wasn't going to tell her about it.

They could both hear what was presumably Rick stomping around in the bathroom, occasional singing and talking drifting into the room. Vyvyan made a point of taking his time, he didn't want to run into Rick in the hall, best to go downstairs with some swagger. When the stomping went downstairs he continued dressing, glancing at SPG's cage where the creature was ripping apart what was once the sleeve of Neil's shirt. Vyvyan didn't know, or care, whether the red on the fabric was part of the fabric or an addition from the taking of the sleeve. Leaving his boots for last he finally pulled them on after his shirt and vest. He grinned when he saw the deflated condom lying near the head of the bed. It was a wonderfully disgusting sight. He had had it off with a girl! A cool girl who wasn't screaming at him yet or anything! He didn't even know her name; well, he didn't remember her name.

"So uh," Vyvyan said, setting about tying his boots for the sole reason that he didn't have to look at her when he asked the question. "Now that I know you're real, what's your name? You seem to have me at a disadvantage." He had heard that phrase on telly once and it seemed like the right time to use it. He rounded his shoulders a bit, fully expecting to be hit or something to be thrown at him. Instead, she laughed, patting him gently on the shoulder and tipping his head up.

"My name's Richelle and you're Vyvyan, in case you forgot that too. It's no disadvantage, just means I get a do-over on my introduction. You don't." She kissed the very tip of his nose then gave him a playful shove. "But it's Richelle, not Ricki like you were calling me last night. I hate that nickname. Come on, I need to go and I'm not doing the walk of shame without you."

Vyvyan scrunched up his face but stood up and opened the door of his bedroom for her, shutting it behind them. "I just need my bag, then I'm gone," she said over her shoulder as they started down the steps. "This was fun."

Richelle reached the bottom of the stairs and went into the kitchen with Vyvyan close on her heels. He knew this as a typical Sunday morning. Evidence of the party was everywhere and the table was covered in cans. Neil stood with his back to them, busy stirring something on the stove and talking about something, his splattered shirt missing the right sleeve from three-quarters of the way up. Mike was at the head of the table in pajamas and a bathrobe, reading a newspaper; Rick was facing Mike and talking at Mike who clearly wasn't listening.

Mike glanced up when Vyvyan and Richelle came into his peripheral vision, setting down the paper and waving his hand. "Shut up, Rick."

"You don't need to be rude, Mike, it is a rather interesting story once you get over the fact that she had short hair -"

"Shut up, Rick, there's a lady in the room," Mike interrupted, and stood.

Rick snorted out a laugh. "There are no ladies here, don't be silly." Still, the anarchist turned his head in a dramatic fashion, gaped, and threw himself onto his feet. "You're that girl from last night, you laughed at me stuck in the fwidge!"

Richelle coughed out a laugh, pushing past him and grabbing her messenger bag near the corner of the table, straightening and throwing it over her head so it crossed her body. "You wouldn't come out of the fwidge," she mocked, crossing her arms. "It was open! That's funny!" Vyvyan laughed behind her, he didn't remember that but the anger on Rick's face helped to validate it.

"I was unconscious!" Rick whined loudly at Richelle, but Vyvyan could tell Mike and Neil were focused on the punk's mussed up hair and kept looking at the closeness between their two bodies. It was Rick, unsurprisingly, who spoke up. "You slept with her?! She probably has diseases, Vyvyan!" The tone was incredulous but Vyvyan could have sworn that Rick looked hurt. He was pouting a bit more than usual.

"Are you jealous, Rick?" Vyv's smile split into his Cheshire grin and he decided to ham it up a bit more, not for Richelle but perhaps spurred on by the circumstances and her laughing. "Do you want some of this?" He dramatically ran his hands everywhere, licking his lips and wiggling his nose ring with his upper lip.

Rick gagged repeatedly, dramatically throwing himself at Vyvyan with a raised fist. Taking a step back, Vyvyan braced himself before delivering a single swift right hook, dropping Rick in one hit to the dirty, stained carpet. Vyvyan turned his attention back to Richelle and she kissed his cheek before waving at Mike (who had remained disturbingly quiet through the whole thing), crossing the floor and shutting the door behind her.

It was then that Mike spoke up. "Vyvyan, we need talk."