Something Like Love ~ Nate Parker smut/imagine

Doubt ~ Something Like Love P9

You woke up laying next to the couch, and apparently, someone was on it. You had a major headache, and as you sat up, a sharp pain stabbed you in the stomach. But most importantly, you felt the urge to collapse back onto the floor and sleep until next year.

Regardless, you went to shake the boy on your couch. "Nate, baby wake up," you said into the semi-darkness. You gasped when your hands touched curls. You remembered everything.

Why hadn't Levi gone home? How long had you been asleep? Has Nate seen you two? Where is Nate even at? The questions were too much for your hangover.

As if it held the answer, you grappled for your phone in the dark. It had to be somewhere...your fingernails clinked against something made of think glass: a bottle of Fireball. You cringed. Even the thought of alcohol right now made your stomach heave. After a frustrated sigh and a few more seconds of searching, your fingertips met the surface of your phone case. 

The artificial light of your phone blinded you as the time held its place on your lock screen, along with your wallpaper, which was a picture of you and Nate when you first got back together. The time read 5:45am. You had 2 new messages. 

Unlocking your phone, your home screen nagged at you from its hiding place under all of your apps: it was you and Nate again, but this selfie was intimate. You were sitting on a counter with your legs loosely wrapped around him, and his hands were on your hips. You were both smiling happily as he kissed you. 

Opening your message inbox, your heart leapt in your throat as you saw who the messages were from. 

Nate: "Hey baby girl, are you doing alright?"

Shit. You hadn't answered. Way to make him worry.

Nate: "Sorry babe, you're probably sleeping, but I got held up. Drew and I are writing and it's going good. I'll probably crash here. I'll be home tomorrow at around noon, have a kiss ready for me when I get there xx"

Great. So that means you had about 6 hours to get Levi out of your house, clean up, get rid of your hangover, and pretend nothing happened. Oh, joy of joys.

You stood up and untangled your feet from the mass of blankets and pillows you'd surrounded yourself with. At least you'd gotten dressed. Levi was wearing pants, but his boxers, shirt, socks, and other various wardrobe accessories were strewn around your living room.

"Levi, get up," you said sternly, shaking him. He didn't stir. You shook him harder. He only snored louder. 

By the time you'd woken him up, it was nearly six, and he didn't forget to tell you so.

He'd woken up and sat up on the couch, running his hands through his hair and groaning in agony. "Fuck, I feel sick," he said in a raspy sleep voice. He checked his time the way you did, wincing and squinting at the screen the way you did. "What the hell, Y/N, it's only six."

"I know. But I need to fix this before Nate gets home." You sighed impatiently. You felt like crap, but compared to Levi's current condition, you were healthy as could be. 

"Fix what? Isn't he upstairs?" Levi seemed very confused about everything. "Weren't you upstairs too? Where the hell did my other sock go.....why am I basically naked anyway?"

Oh my God. You couldn't believe it. He didn't remember. 

"I couldn't tell you," you mumbled. "Do whatever you gotta do before you leave. Nate's at Drew's."

Levi shuffled upstairs, grumbling something about a shower, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Maybe if you didn't tell either of them, this could just be swept under the rug. Nobody had to know anything. But could you take the weight of that guilt? 

You turned the lights on, which you instantly discovered was a mistake. As your eyes adjusted, you saw that there was a new and very noticable stain on your couch, because Mr. Blackout Drunk had vomited in his sleep. 

What an amazing day.

[Cliffhanger! There will be a part two to this soon. This isn't entirely fiction! I was inspired to write this. My mom's friend (who's about 22 or so) and I had one of those nights where he was drinking in my bed. (Fireball, of course.) Only instead of sleeping with him, we had an amazing (and very emotional and tearful) conversation about some of the problems we were facing, and our sexuality and gender identity, and we both ended up crying into each other's chests, and laughing at everything soon after that. It felt like a real bonding experience. He passed out in my bed and wouldn't wake up, so I slept on the floor, which is a good thing because he threw up in my bed and kicked his socks and gloves off randomly while he was sleeping. The next day, he woke up feeling confused. I'll continue this story when I continue the next part loves x sorry if I'm boring you *yawn*]