Pay To Play| Jschlatt X Ted

Kiss

The morning after, Schlatt has a rather interesting interaction with Ted.

The worst part about being an alcoholic was the shit hangovers you felt the next morning.

Schlatt knew he drank a lot for someone who was still fresh into adulthood, he always did, but in his defense he was staying with Ted and the man was the designated driver so he told himself he had nothing to worry about. His priorities were enjoying the night and the consequences were suffering the morning, as they commonly were whenever he was drinking, so waking up to his head pulsating behind his eyeballs and his body stuck in that uncomfortable state of being cold but sweaty was nothing new.
When his consciousness started to seep back into his body as he uncomfortably woke up, he knew it was past morning, probably nearing noon. Schlatt's room was still relatively dark thanks to the curtains and shades pulled over the windows (and thank God for that, too, sunlight and hangovers are the worst combinations), and he was mostly under the blanket anyway so opening his eyes and only seeing darkness, as if his eyes were still closed, was probably the reason why waking up wasn't nearly as painful as it usually was. His head still hurt like a bitch, the feeling akin to someone forcefully pushing against the back of his frontal lobe from the inside, and Schlatt's throat is dry, sore, and a little scratchy.

Actually, now that Schlatt thinks about it, his throat hurts more than it usually does after drinking…
His head hurts too much to really think about anything, though.

All he wants is a painkiller and a cold cup of water, which means he has to force himself to go through the sluggish process of deliberately getting out of bed and adventuring down the stairs into the kitchen without throwing up whatever bile could be left in his stomach. It feels like a lifetime as he does it, every move he makes feels like he’s moving through molasses, and he also feels like he's gambling between getting sick and getting acid reflux— Schlatt might as well be crawling on his knees as he heavily drags himself out of his room and down the stairs. He’s gripping the railing hard because he feels like his knees might buckle beneath him and he doesn’t want Ted to find him crumbled at the bottom of the stairs, hungover and limp.

It feels like forever, but Schlatt makes it into the kitchen in what also feels like no time at all, where he finds Ted on his phone, sitting at the island, periodically sipping a can of some sort of energy drink that Schlatt can't bring himself to care what the brand is because his head still hurts too much to really think about it and his gut churns at the idea of anything that isn’t water.

“Morning, Schlatt,” Ted casually calls out as Schlatt makes his way to the fridge behind him. “There’s a painkiller right here if you need it.” Looking over, Schlatt’s vision blurs a bit at the motion but he sees him motioning to a white pill bottle he hadn’t noticed before, right next to him.

“Oh fuck…” Schlatt grunts mostly to himself, fumbling for a bottle of water and dropping his body onto the chair next to Ted, and he nearly slams the bottle onto the counter before uncapping the pill bottle and trying to only shake two into his hand. He finally pops the pills into his mouth and when he chugs down as much water as possible, the relief of the cool liquid sloshing down his throat is so soothing that, unconsciously, he relaxes his throat and lets the water mindlessly run down into his stomach, and God does that feel incredible. When the chill of it starts to get to him and the nauseous feeling in his gut complains about the onslaught, Schlatt pulls it away and unconsciously glances over at Ted, who’s looking at him. “What?” He heaves out, voice dry as he raises a brow in question.

“...nothing,” is Ted’s response, quick and short, accompanied by a brief shake of his head. It’s clearly a lie, even Schlatt’s hungover-ridden brain can tell that, but he decides that’s something to bother Ted over when he actually feels like he can be a nuisance and not make his own headache worse. He watches Ted take another sip, then looks right back at him as he sets his phone down on the table. “How bad is your hangover?”