𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙚 || dream x oc

20

-- 𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗽𝗼𝘃 --

When I woke up I was surprised I wasn't more hungover. I tried to remember exactly how I even got upstairs, but I couldn't. The last thing I really remembered was going outside with everyone and that was about it. I stood up to go to the bathroom after breaking free of Clay's grip on me, and I immediately realized I was wearing his shirt and that I did not have pants on. I wondered if Clay had to help me change or something and I was simply too drunk for pants to be an option. He was pretty wasted too last night, so if that was the case, I was just glad he had gotten that far and I didn't have to sleep in my dress.

I took some ibuprofen while I was in the bathroom, drinking water straight out of the faucet and I also brushed my teeth and washed my face. I had clearly fallen asleep with my makeup on last night, and I looked like an absolute mess. I prayed I wouldn't break out from the makeup situation, but I knew I probably would. I walked back out into his bedroom, pulled on a pair of shorts so it wouldn't get weird when he woke up, and then crawled back into bed.

The second my weight hit the mattress, Clay rolled over and grabbed onto me, still partially asleep. I relaxed back into the bed, letting him lay on top of me as I scratched his scalp lightly. Something felt weird, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was that felt off. Clearly, we hadn't argued if we were even in the same room together right now, and I couldn't remember anything of note occurring. 

"Good morning, Midge," he finally mumbled, pushing his head into me harder and squeezing me as he stretched out his legs. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty well, how about you?" I shifted a little bit, and he clung on even harder. "You're very touchy this morning. I had to fight my way out of your bear hold on me earlier." 

Maybe that's what was weird. We were affectionate at times but rarely was it ever like this. The last time we cuddled like this was when Clay had the flu a few months back. He acted like a toddler and had spent nearly three days laying on top of me in a sweaty heap, constantly announcing that he was 'going to die'.

"I'm so hungover, you have no fucking clue," he grumbled. "Well... actually? Maybe you do. But anyway, it makes me feel better."

"I'm not super hungover yet, but I think I might still be a little drunk," I laughed. "I'm sure it'll hit me any minute now."

"Are you wearing my shirt?" he asked, lifting his head a little to examine the design. "It looks good on you. You can have it if you want."

"Yeah, it is. I had an interesting outfit on," I mumbled, looking down at him. "Just this shirt and my underwear. And thank you, I do indeed want it."

"That's not that weird for you," he laughed, letting his head fall back down. He squeezed me a little tighter, letting out a deep sigh. "You're fairly pants-averse."

"I thought maybe you had to change my clothes for me and that's why I was wearing your shirt. I assumed I fought you too hard on the pants," I said, my hands back in his hair. "The last thing I remember is all of us going outside to smoke."

"I don't think I had to do that, but maybe. It wouldn't surprise me," he laughed a little again. The way he pressed his head into me was enough me make me want to cry right now. "The last thing I really remember is everyone else going to bed and then we were drinking and smoking outside."

"Damn," I whistled lightly. "We went hard. I haven't blacked out in a hot minute."

"Sometimes it comes back to me, I'll try to remember what happened because I feel like we hung out outside for a while. Sometimes I'll have a picture of you or a video too, that always helps me piece the night together," he said. "That switch to whiskey really did us in. We need to stay the fuck away from whiskey, we never learn this lesson."