Oneshots (18+)

Hangover Cure

A/N

No warnings this time. Just a little fun.

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I sighed in relief as I put my car in park, setting the emergency brake before relaxing against the back of my seat. I closed my sensitive eyes, the throbbing behind them decreasing with each slow breath I took. Sunday mornings were truly horrible. It didn't help that I'd probably killed a full fifth of Jack Daniel's to myself the night before. Whiskey hangovers are the fucking worst.

As atonement, I'd decided to drag my still semi-drunk and definitely hung over ass to the gym. I rocked my head to the side slightly, glaring at the entrance in accusation for making me get out of bed. Just then, my eyes settled on the fattest, juiciest, firmest, spandex clad ass I had ever seen walking away from me through the doors. If ever there was a reason to get the fuck up and go, that would be it.

With a soft groan, I attached my phone holder to my arm, popped in my earbuds, grabbed my water and got out. I winced slightly as the glare from the sun shot straight to the back of my eyes, raising my hand to shield them. I sighed again as I quickly shut and locked my door before I changed my mind and got back inside.

The hardest part is walking through the doors. C'mon, move. I pepp talked myself as I started moving toward the door. I reached out and pulled it open, plastering a fake smile on my face at the workers piled around the front desk while I scanned myself in.

Trudging straight to the darkened theater room, I spared a glance around me to see if I could spot the captivating ass that convinced me to even enter the building feeling this much like shit. No dice. Internally sighing in disappointment, I entered the theater room and grabbed a couple wipes at the door. I approached a treadmill closest to the screen and started to wipe it down before setting down my keys and bottle. Maybe a little cardio would help chase the rest of this hangover away. I tossed the wipes in the trash before stepping onto the machine and setting a slow warm up pace.

I tapped the screen on my phone, letting Spotify choose the playlist and started to move. I kept my eyes on the screen in front of me. Some dumb ass late 90s RomCom movie.

After about 5 minutes, I started getting some relief from the hangover. I tapped the button to increase the pace and started jogging. As my head started to clear, my focus returned. I glanced down at the machine and saw that I'd just completed my first mile. Nice.

Raising my eyes back to the movie again, I couldn't help but roll my eyes as yet another "almost kiss" happened between the love interests. Based on the scene, the movie was about halfway through. I decided to play a game. Each time they almost kissed, I'd increase my speed by two. Each time they almost got caught actually kissing, I'd increase the incline by one. I smirked to myself. Here's to hoping I could beat this movie to the finish line.

I chuckled lightly to myself as the couple started making out, only to be startled apart by the guy's best friend. I tapped the incline.

Just about seven minutes later, the two main characters leaned in to kiss but the girl stopped herself. I increased the speed by two.

Another six minutes later and I had to increase the speed again. I was actually close to a full on sprint now and my breathing was coming a little heavier. Don't get me wrong, I had stamina but damn.

Another ten minutes went by and I groaned as the man and woman were in a deeply engaged make out session that was interrupted by none other than the man's fiancé. Up went the incline again.

I was now breathing pretty heavily, sweat causing my shirt to stick to my chest and back. Despite that, I was feeling pretty good. No hangover in sight.