Lee Pace Imagines

Imagine Lee Falling in Love with You (Part 2)...

Lee woke up with a splitting headache - alone - in a hotel room. He sat up slowly, every muscle of his body felt as if they were screaming at him to stop moving, his eyes squinted at the glaring sunlight from the windows. What time is it? He felt his pockets for his phone, only to find it by the nightstand with a glass of water and his wallet and a handwritten note. He grabbed his phone and the note, checking the time first. The battery was nearly drained – 10.28 a.m. He turned his attention to the note.

Call me when you wake up.

Y/N

Did he pass out last night? The details were fuzzy. He remembered you meeting him at the bar, both of you catching up; there were laughter, and a vague memory that you helped him back to his room. Then what happened?

He decided against calling you first. He needed more details about last night. As he stood under the hot shower that soothed his mind and muscles, he tried to retrace his steps. He knew there was more to you sending him back to the room. He remembered talking to you. He remembered 'I love you's' were exchanged but that wasn't something out of the ordinary. So, what was it? His instincts were telling him that something wasn't right. That something else happened. Did he end up saying something he didn't mean to?

As he brushed his teeth, eyes staring intently at his own reflection, he willed his brain to remember what had happened. He looked exhausted. Why did he drink so much again? He knew better than that, yet last night he lost complete control over capping the amount of alcohol he should ingest. Now, he was facing the consequence of his own actions - a killer hangover, a fuzzy memory of the night before and a sore body.

It was nearly eleven when he finally decided to give you that call. He thought who better to find out about the details than the person he was with. Plus, he had managed to embarrass himself more times than he could count since you knew him, so he wasn't afraid of that prospect.

As the dial tone filled his ear, the bad feeling lingered until your voice interrupted his train of thoughts. "About time! How are you feeling?" you asked, straight to the point.

"Like shit," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What happened last night?"

There was a pause before you answered. "You don't remember, do you?"

"Well... not really. I remember us meeting for drinks and catching up. I remember you helping me to my room and saying goodnight. But not much after that..."

"Oh... em... yeah, well that's what happened. You pretty much passed out once we reached your room."

He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry. I guess I had too much to drink."

"You sure did."

Silence fell between the two of you once again. "Erm... I guess I better let you get on with it then. I've something I need to sort out anyway," you mumbled.

"Oh, okay. Sure. Thanks for last night again. Can't imagine what I would've done without you, Y/N."

You laughed, almost too forcefully. "Don't worry about it. I'll talk to you later?"

"Sure. Take care, Y/N."

"You too." He didn't even have the chance to say goodbye when the line was cut off. He shrugged and began packing his belongings. He had to checkout of the room soon and head back Upstate where his house was. He was folding last night's clothes when a whiff of alcohol and the distinct smell of your perfume caused him to stop mid-track. He brought the shirt closer and drew in a deep breath. A part of him wished you were right there with him, you would probably be spread out on the soft hotel bed, watching him pack, as you imagined what life would be like if people lived in a hotel forever. The endless room service, clean sheets, made up bed, and chocolate mints left under the pillows. He couldn't help but smiled at the thought of you only to have his heart skipped a beat when bits of memory from last night came flooding back like a broken film reel. There were flashes of him confessing to you, earning a confused look, only to exasperate him in the process in which in his drunken state, he had decided that the best way to get the message across was to grab you and kiss you right on the lips.