Post by ~Draven~ on Apr 24, 2011 12:33:23 GMT -5
Good thing the bar was open 24/7: the two students had not been in any kind of shape to return to the university, had the thought even crossed their mind. One too drunk to stand, the other too aroused to want to leave, the pair had passed out under their table. Draven's clothes were still off, naturally, since too drunk to stand also meant too drunk to dress, and he was draped over Zephyrus like a ragdoll. Completely limp, completely out of it. Well, not completely out of it. His consciousness was slowly coming back.
As the boy became more coherent, he realized how cold he was, and how much his head hurt. The former issue was resolved slightly by nestling deeper into Zeph's arms, but the latter was more troublesome. All he could do for that was groan, put a hand to his forehead, and open his eyes. He needed water something fierce. But he didn't really want to leave Zeph's arms. They were warm, and Draven had no idea where his clothes had got off to.
More lucidity, then a startling realization. He was being held by a guy he barely knew, his shirt was off, and he was laying under a table. What in the name of all that was good had they done last night?! Draven sat up with a jolt, whacking his head on one of the table's legs. "Ahhhh..." Back down he went, head throbbing even more. To make matters worse, he was feeling pretty damn queasy too. He squinted at Zeph who still appeared to be asleep. That wouldn't do.
Arms quivering from the nausea, Draven grabbed the Gryffindor's shoulders and shook them as hard as he could. "Zephyrus. Zephyrus! Wake up!" A demand, but not one in anger. The anxiety was plain to hear in the boy's voice. He was on the verge of a panic attack. "What did we DO last night?" Where were his clothes? Why did he have the worst headache in the history of ever? Why did he feel the urge to puke hard enough to turn his stomach inside out?
Wait a second...he remembered butterbeer.
"...I got sloshed, didn't I."
Not even the half of it, kiddo.
((Continuation of Fun Tiems. As the title suggests, this is the morning after.))
As the boy became more coherent, he realized how cold he was, and how much his head hurt. The former issue was resolved slightly by nestling deeper into Zeph's arms, but the latter was more troublesome. All he could do for that was groan, put a hand to his forehead, and open his eyes. He needed water something fierce. But he didn't really want to leave Zeph's arms. They were warm, and Draven had no idea where his clothes had got off to.
More lucidity, then a startling realization. He was being held by a guy he barely knew, his shirt was off, and he was laying under a table. What in the name of all that was good had they done last night?! Draven sat up with a jolt, whacking his head on one of the table's legs. "Ahhhh..." Back down he went, head throbbing even more. To make matters worse, he was feeling pretty damn queasy too. He squinted at Zeph who still appeared to be asleep. That wouldn't do.
Arms quivering from the nausea, Draven grabbed the Gryffindor's shoulders and shook them as hard as he could. "Zephyrus. Zephyrus! Wake up!" A demand, but not one in anger. The anxiety was plain to hear in the boy's voice. He was on the verge of a panic attack. "What did we DO last night?" Where were his clothes? Why did he have the worst headache in the history of ever? Why did he feel the urge to puke hard enough to turn his stomach inside out?
Wait a second...he remembered butterbeer.
"...I got sloshed, didn't I."
Not even the half of it, kiddo.
((Continuation of Fun Tiems. As the title suggests, this is the morning after.))