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That's What You Get For Waking Up In Vegas

His eyes were sticky and his head was absolutely killing him. A hangover, to be sure.

He also was having a rough time remembering the night before, which was almost a little concerning.

Percy rolled over, burying his face in the pillow to block the sunlight. He didn't know what time it was, morning or noon, but it was too early regardless. At least everything smelled incredible. Fabric softener, something lavender, and something else. Something absolutely delightful. He burrowed deeper into the pillow, inhaling with a smile. It eased the pounding headache to some degree and lulled the tension in his muscles.

He couldn't hear much of anything, a surefire sign that something was amiss. Because of the utter ridiculousness concerning prices of Vegas hotel rooms, the group of eight had to be split into two rooms that hardly accommodated even that. With three unbelievably loud roommates, you'd think Percy would hear at least something, be it chatter or something breaking. Yet there was nothing.

The hum of the overhead fan, maybe.

The soft breathing of the person beside him, maybe.

But rowdy friends causing minor mayhem two feet away wasn't something he could detect.

He rolled back over, squinting at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted. They could just be somewhere around the resort, swimming or in the casino or at the spa. That wasn't so weird. What was weird was that he didn't hear them leave, didn't remember the night before, and there was a ring on his finger.

There was a ring...on his finger.

He held his left hand up, blinking at the gold band with appropriate confusion. His last clear memory had been taking Annabeth back to the room after she tried to fight the guy at the Blackjack table. Nothing in that memory hinted at tying the knot with anyone.

The sheets rustled and he glanced over, following glowing gold curls across the white pillowcase to where a mess of hair haloed Annabeth's sleeping face. She had a little drool at the corner of her mouth and her eye liner looked more like bags under her eyes, but his breath came out in a little puff of astonishment. Her creamy skin looked softer than he had remembered and he was taken aback by the delicate shadows her eye lashes cast across her cheeks.

His stomach tossed and he had exactly ten seconds to get to the bathroom before disaster could strike.

Percy slid his trapped right arm out from under Annabeth and stumbled to his feet, black spots drifting in his vision. The bathroom was not to the left of the bed, where he distinctly remembered it being the whole weekend, and he lost valuable time searching for it again. Just barely did he make it to the porcelain god before emptying his stomach of what tasted like second rate tequila and lemon flavored vodka.

Now, he was a gentleman; he made sure to heave quietly, as not to wake up Annabeth.

He spent a good portion of five minutes hunched over the surprisingly ornate toilet, regretting his life choices up until that point. It should come to no shock to anyone that the drinks tasted slightly better coming up than they did going down, and that's simply to emphasize that they had been terrible drinks. Garbage, really. When he finally pulled his head out of the bowl, he was ready to swear off all alcohol for the rest of his life.

It was then he also noted his state of dress. Or undress, what have you.

No shirt, no pants, a single sock, and were...were his boxers on backwards?

No, he mused, snapping the waist band. Just inside out.

He looked around the bathroom, which could have swallowed their original room, and wondered just how the hell they ended up in a five star suite.