What Twisted Webs We Weave

We're Always Sleeping In

(Patrick's POV)

There was nothing worse than waking up with a hangover. Well, except waking up in your car in front of a bar with a hangover.

I looked over to my right and saw Brendon draped over me. Still lost in his own dreamland. Ryan was in the front seat of the car. Sitting in the passenger's seat with his feet in the driver's seat. I wonder where the other guys were. Why the hell weren't they sleeping in their cars? A drunken flashback from the night before slid into my sobering memory.

It was already three in the morning. I told the guys I didn't want to stay too late but of course they didn't listen. They just kept ordering beer after beer. Shot after shot. Drink after drink. And I couldn't say no once the alcohol was already in a cup in front of me. That would wasteful and selfish.

So I continued to drink with them. And I could admit I had an amazing time. We talked about fun memories that didn't involve Pete. Which was good because I would have probably cried if someone brought his name up. We had competitions to see who could drink the most the fastest. I won most of them. Spencer was a hell of a drinker too though. We childishly played a few games of truth or dare. Which resulted in Joe getting slapped by one of the bartenders. My favorite part was singing karaoke with Brendon, Andy and Ryan.

We didn't decide it was time to go until Dallon almost fell out on the dance floor. And by decide it was time to go, I mean we were escorted out.

Andy was the only sober one in the group. Which made him the designated driver by default. He, Dallon, Joe, Jon and spencer got into his car. Leaving Ryan, Brendon and I to find our own way home. Ryan tried to catch a cab and ended up almost getting hit. Twice.

Brendon came up with the genius idea to just sleep in the car. We were too drunk to drive. Even to drunk to catch a cab. We chose my car since it was the best looking. At least that's what Brendon said. Which resulted in him and Ryan getting into a fight for some reason. So Ryan slept in the front seat and Brendon pulled me into the back seat with him.

I feel asleep to Brendon humming Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah in my ear. Also to the feeling of him kissing at my neck and chin. I didn't take any of it too seriously. Brendon was always a slut when he drunk too much. And Ryan was snoring away in the front seat so I didn't have to worry about him punching me in the face for it.

But now that I was sober, the early morning light shining through the windshield of my car mocked our stupid decision. I jerked my shoulder forward to wake Brendon up. When that didn't work, I had to literally push him off of me. The side of his head hit the window and he groaned. His eyelids pried apart just so he could glare at me.

"That better not be sexual groaning I'm hearing the back there." Ryan sat up in the front seat to glance back at us.

How the hell did he manage to look so perfect after the night we all had? There were no drool lines on his face or sleep in his eyes. His hair was perfectly imperfect. Tussled around just enough to make it look like an intended style. His clothes were barely wrinkled. He didn't even have any morning scruff. His chin was smooth beyond belief. That definitely wasn't fair. I didn't need a mirror to know I looked like shit.

"Shut up, Ryan." Brendon's voice was deep with sleep. His hand rubbed the side of his head as he spoke.

"Damn you look good, babe." Ryan winked. "You can barely tell you puked on yourself last night."

"I puked on myself?" He shrieked. Quickly checking his clothes for any signs.

"I'm just kidding." Ryan opened his door and slid out of the car. Before either of us could ask what he was doing, he slipped back in through the driver's side. "Are either of you sober enough to drive the other car?" When we didn't respond, he nodded and started the car.

"Where are you going?" Brendon asked.

"To the grocery store just down the street. The one that sells the hangover pills."

"Do those things actually work?" I frowned.

"I guess we're going to have to test it out and see." He parked the car perfectly before shutting it off.

"Patrick, they have that coffee thing here!" Brendon grabbed my arm excitedly. "The one I was telling you about last night. The strawberry thing!"

"Why would I want strawberry flavored coffee?" Just the sound of it made me feel sick.

"Because you have to try it!"

"I'm going to get the pills. You two idiots can decide if you want to get that coffee or not."

"We're getting it." Brendon assured him.

Ryan shrugged and got out of the car. Brendon was seconds behind him. I wasn't so eager to be seen in public like this. Where was my hat? Where was my jacket? I peeked into the front seat to see if I'd left it in there. But the only thing I saw was an ugly, green hoodie. Brendon swung my door open. Practically dragging me from the backseat of my own car. I grabbed the hoodie before he could slam the door closed.

"You are going in there and getting that coffee with me." He said sternly.

"Whose hoodie is this?" I held it up for him to see.

"I don't know. But it's ugly as hell."

"I don't care." I slid my arms through the sleeves and zipped it all the way up. Even going as far as to put the hood on my head. Maybe no one would be able to recognize me now.

"Okay." He rolled his eyes. "Now that you're all incognito, can we go get the coffee?"

"Look." I pointed over his head. "A Starbucks."

"But we don't need Starbucks if we're going to buy that strawberry coffee." I have him a long, disbelieving look. He knew there was no way my hungover self would turn down Starbucks. That earned me another eye roll. "Fine! Go get your stupid Starbucks. I'm getting the strawberry."

"I'll meet you back at the car." I called after him.

"Blow me!" He flipped me off as he rushed into the store.

I walked into the coffee shop. Relishing in the fact that it wasn't crowded. I mean, of course there was a line. But it wasn't as long as these lines usually were. And everyone was ordering pretty quickly so it took me almost no time to get to the front.

"Welcome to Starbucks." The young boy faked a smile. What would you like to order this morning?"

"I- uh." I looked up at the menu. Barely able to make out most of the words. Damnit! I just realized I didn't have my glasses on. "Well, um." I didn't want to order my usual drink. It would be too sweet. And sweet things always gave me the worst headache when I was dealing with hangovers. "I guess I could try the-" I trailed off on purpose. Having no idea what I wanted. A black coffee was my other usual. But that was just going to give me energy that I didn't want. "Maybe a-"

"Oh come on!" A rudely familiar voice called from behind me. I was too hungover to try and place it. "We don't have all day."

"Pete, don't be rude." A quieter voice chastised.

"Pete?" I spun around at the name. Bringing myself face to face with none other than Pete Wentz.