Austin Butler & Elvis Presley one shots

Hungover - A.B

The night had started innocently enough. The cast of Dune 2 had wrapped up a grueling day of shooting in the desert, and a few of them had decided to unwind at a local bar. Austin Butler, who played the fierce and enigmatic Feyd-Rautha, was usually the responsible one, but tonight he felt like letting loose. The camaraderie among the cast was infectious, and before he knew it, he was several shots deep, laughing and sharing stories with his castmates.

Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, and Javier Bardem were there, each contributing to the lively atmosphere. Austin felt the warmth of their friendship and the burn of the alcohol as it flowed freely. He lost track of time, and by the end of the night, he was stumbling and slurring his words.

"Alright, man, I think you've had enough," Timothée said, steadying Austin as he swayed dangerously close to falling.

"No, no, I'm fine," Austin insisted, though his glazed eyes and unsteady gait said otherwise.

Timothée exchanged a worried glance with Zendaya, who nodded. "We need to get you home," she said gently.

With much effort, they managed to get Austin out of the bar and into a cab. The ride back to the hotel was a blur for Austin, his head spinning and his stomach churning. As soon as they reached his room, he bolted for the bathroom, barely making it in time before he threw up violently. Timothée followed, holding back Austin's hair and rubbing his back, offering soothing words despite the rancid smell and the distressing sounds.

After what felt like an eternity, Austin finally pulled away from the toilet, wiping his mouth with a shaking hand. He collapsed onto the bathroom floor, exhausted and barely coherent.

"You need to get some sleep," Timothée said, helping him to his feet and guiding him to the bed.

Austin nodded weakly, mumbling his thanks before passing out almost immediately. Timothée sighed, pulling a blanket over him before leaving.

The next morning, Austin woke up feeling like death. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry, and every muscle in his body ached. He groaned, glancing at the clock. He was already late for set.

Panic surged through him as he scrambled to get dressed, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. By the time he arrived, the director, Denis Villeneuve, was already fuming.

"You're late, Butler," Denis snapped. "And you look like hell."

"I'm sorry," Austin muttered, wincing as the sound of his own voice intensified his headache. "Rough night."

"I don't care about your rough night. We have a schedule to keep. Get yourself together."

Austin nodded, swallowing the retort that was on the tip of his tongue. He knew he had messed up, and now he had to make up for it. But as the day dragged on, his hangover only worsened. He was irritable, snapping at anyone who spoke to him, and the vertigo made it hard to focus.

During a pivotal fight scene, the vertigo hit him hard. Mid-motion, the ground seemed to shift beneath his feet. He stumbled, narrowly avoiding a fall but ruining the shot. Denis's frustration was palpable. "Cut! Austin, what the hell is going on?" he shouted.

Austin, already on edge, snapped. "I'm doing my best, alright? Just... give me a minute."

Denis's eyes narrowed. "Your best isn't good enough today. Get your act together or you're off this scene."

Austin's temper flared, fueled by the headache and stress. "I said I'm trying!" he yelled back, the anger in his voice echoing across the set.

The tension was thick, and everyone held their breath. Denis took a deep breath, clearly struggling to keep his composure. "Take five," he finally said, waving his hand dismissively.

Austin retreated to a quiet corner, his heart pounding. He rubbed his temples, trying to will the headache away. The day stretched on, each moment a battle against his own body and mind. He knew he had to pull through, to find the strength to keep going despite the hangover, the vertigo, and the pressure.

As the sun began to set, the last scene of the day wrapped up. Austin, exhausted and drained, apologized to Denis. "I'm sorry about today. It won't happen again," he said quietly.

Denis's expression softened slightly. "I know it's tough, but you need to take care of yourself. We can't afford to lose you."