*next one will be Sans x Reader...sorry :(
I opened my eyes. I was in someone's room. It sure as shit wasn't mine, as mine was (f/c) and (s/f/c). Goes together like bread and carbs. But enough about my fabulous abode. I was in someone else's house, in their room, in their bed, in their arms. Well, one skeletal arm. It was draped across my belly.
And I was in no clothes, either, which made me freak out.
Yeah. Great way to wake up.
It took a few seconds for all these thoughts to rush through my head at the same time. I moved the hand so it was in the mattress, smoothed out the blanket, and went to get dressed.
I pulled on my underwear first, then my shirt, then my pants. Finally, I grabbed my phone. My precious baby.
I heard whoever my mistake was, (a short, cute skeleton) shift a bit as I freaked out. But then they rested again and kept quiet. Good. Good.
Tip-toeing to the door, which has apparently a hotel door, I snuck one last look at the place. Nice room. I grabbed a water from the table by the door and headed out.
-later-
The convention was in full swing, as only the hard-cores went to the real one last night. Only they got hammered. The softies were here for the one everyone knew about. Certain invitees knew about the hot party last night. I was one.
Slugging my water as I strolled along, I saw a handsome monster speaking with a skeleton. But this one was tallish, thin, and had on earmuffs. I tapped his shoulder. He spun, showing one blue and one red eye.
"Yes?"
"Were you here last night?" I asked.
"I was. I got in very late, though. I missed the party." He seemed apologetic. I felt kinda bad.
"Oh. What's your name?"
"Century Gothic. And yours?"
"(Y/n). Well, see you later." I waved. He nodded and started talking again.
"Goodbye."
-later-
I was standing by the snack place, ordering a nice cold juice. After it arrived, as no booze was served after yesterday, I sipped it dejectedly.
"Ya look pretty sad there, pal." A deep voice said,
"Damn juice isn't spiked. I need a drink."
"Rough night?"
"Shit you wouldn't believe. I remember showing up, talking, getting shit-faced, then dancing with some guy. Next thing I know, I wake up in some room that sure as hell isn't mine next to him. I stole a water and got out." I let my head bang on the table.
"Huh. You remember a lot for a drunk person."
"Memory like a friggin elephant."
"I'll say. You swear a bunch, too."
"Dirtier mouth than a computer keyboard."
"Nice one. You're a lot funnier than I remember."
"Sober me is a lot more pissed, too. And where did we ever meet? I would remember a voice like yours." It was so smooth, these comments. Flowing back and forth like water to a glass that hates water.
"You didn't." He giggled.
"I was damn hammered." I growled. " Answer the question."
"We met last night."
"Hmm?" I racked my brain.
"We danced."
"Hmm."
"We hung out."
"Hey listen jerkwad, if you're gonna pull a frigging Dave Strider on me I will personally see to it that your asshole will become as big as your mouth." I wasn't lying. I had on combat boots that could smash a hand.
"Will you now?"
I turned to look at his face, and recognition grazed my face and slapped my mind. I rose one eyebrow, knowing he remembered and uttered one, final word.
"Yes."
He chuckled, as if my hungover anger was the funniest thing since the uppdog joke.
"Sounds like you have a lot of anger in that head of yours."
"Damn well knock you out with it."
He laughed loudly. I turned back to my drink, the newest interesting thing. Juice doesn't talk back like he does.
"Look. We know each other."
"I'll say." He managed to get out between laughs.
"Shut your mouth. Just tell me what the goddamn hell it is you want."
"Your number and a date."
"Well. Can't argue with a man that can blackmail me."
I scribbled my digits in a napkin and handed it over. He smiled and put it in his pocket, then asked if I wanted lunch.
"On one condition."
"What?"
"We act like we just met."
"...Done."
