Wildest Dreams - A Taylor Swift Adoption Fanfiction

Chapter 23: Fancy Drugs

Author's note: this played out better in my head but I wanted to do somethin funnyish :) 

I swim up through what feels like cotton candy, everything is soft and floaty. There are voices, but they sound like they're underwater.

"...finally waking up..." 

"...normal with anesthesia..." 

"...been four hours..."

I crack one eye open to find Taylor hovering over me, looking un-Taylor-like in..... gift shop sweats and no makeup.

"Holy shit," I announce, my voice scratchy. "You look terrible."

Someone - probably Sabrina - bursts out laughing.

"Thanks, baby." Taylor strokes my hair, fighting a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Weird. Like... everything's very..." I wave my hand vaguely, nearly hitting myself in the face. "Wobbly. Also there's like, three of you. Which is too many Taylors. The kitchen can't handle that much stress baking."

"Oh god, Tree, please film this," Sabrina wheezes from somewhere to my left.

I turn my head, immediately regretting it as the room spins. "Why are you all... spinny?"

"That's the anesthesia, honey." Taylor squeezes my hand.

"Cool. Cool cool cool." I blink slowly. "Hey, important question."

"Yes?"

"If you adopted me... does that mean I get your songwriting powers? Because I just wrote a song in my head about hospital jello. It's very deep."

Sabrina actually slides out of her chair laughing.

"Let's hear it," she manages between giggles.

"No no," I say seriously. "It's not ready. It's about... feelings. And wiggly food. Very complex."

"I'm sure it is, baby." Taylor's definitely laughing now.

"You're laughing but like... I'm gonna win one of your Grandma award thingies you have in your studio. For jello feelings." I pat her hand. "Don't worry though, I'll thank you in my speech. 'Shoutout to my mom who looks like a fancy raccoon in hospital sweats...'"

"A fancy raccoon?" Taylor raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah but like, in a good way. Not like Joe. He was just a regular raccoon. But British. And evil." I frown at the ceiling. "Actually that's mean to raccoons. They have standards. Maybe he's a trash panda."

Sabrina's practically crying with laughter now.

"Also," I continue, very seriously, "his accent was totally fake. Like, who actually talks like that? He probably practiced in the mirror." I attempt an awful British accent: "'Oh look at me, I'm Joe, I wear stupid sweaters and make Taylor sad...'"

"Oh my god," Sabrina wheezes. "This is the best day of my life."

"No but really," I insist, still in the terrible accent, "I'm very British and posh and probably iron my socks..."

"Baby," Taylor's shaking with suppressed laughter. "Maybe we should rest..."

"Can't rest. This is important work." I look around the room. "Did you know... he probably drinks tea wrong too. Like, deliberately. Just to be extra British."

"How do you drink tea wrong?" Sabrina asks while laughing.

"I don't know, but he found a way. Because he's dedicated to being the worst." I nod sagely, then immediately regret it as the room spins again. "Whoa. Why's everything so... spinny?"