bunny boys[ohmtoonz]

the rabbit hole

note::: if yall dont know what chancla means,,, it's slipper in spanish. If you do know what it means,,,, please join me for a moment of silence in remembrance of our arms/legs/butts

--

Ryan woke up that morning with a massive headache and sore legs. He opens his eyes, hissing slightly at the harsh light. Almost instantly he's reaching up to yank the blinds shut, signing in relief as the darkness overcomes him. He flops back down onto the pillows with a content smile, the pounding in his head seeming a little less extreme all of a sudden. He pulls the covers a little tighter over him and closes his eyes.

It then occurs to Ryan that this isn't his bed. This isn't his room, either. In fact, he's almost positive he isn't even in his own house! He sits up again (and cringes at the pounding in his head), looking around and trying to figure out who this room belongs to. Dark red cotton sheets, old coffee mugs carelessly thrown around the room, a cat bed sitting on a desk and an all too familiar pair of red shoes laying on the floor. Yeah... This has to be Luke's room.

He hears someone groan besides him, a body moving around on the bed. Ryan is suddenly very aware of the fact that he's laying next to someone. Also, he's not wearing pants. Where are his pants? Ryan pulls the blankets further up his body to hide his legs, as if that would save him from not having pants on.

An arm stretches out and wraps around him. Ryan gasps lightly at the feeling, being pulled back against someone nice and warm. He tries to move, but he accidentally kicks a cat in the process. He hisses in pain as the cat claws at his leg, the cat's angered cry somehow not waking the person next to him. The cat's cry also intensifies the pounding in Ryan's head.

He pulls his legs away, staring up at the ceiling and sighing in relief. “God-fucking-dammit…” Ryan scolds, one hand rubbing his leg and the other lightly massaging his temples because holy shit does his head hurt. “Princess! You prissy little shit. This is why Luke doesn't love you!”

(He knows that's not true. Luke's mentioned multiple times how much he loves his lazy cat. Ryan's positive that she knows this too, because she mewls at Ryan and struts off to her bed on the desk.)

He pushes Luke's heavy arm off of him and kicks the blankets off (now not giving a shit about the hangover, because he has new priorities rumbling in his stomach) and jumping out of bed with another hiss of pain. Ryan stares awkwardly at Luke's sleeping figure. He watches as Luke rolls over and kicks the blanket off of him. Ryan's face grows red as he realizes that Luke has no shirt on. He's actually quite muscular, he notes, though he doesn't know what good that information will do him.

He has more important things to worry about, like why is Luke shirtless? Where are his pants?  Did they…

No, no, they couldn't have. Delirious is laying on the floor. He wouldn't have let them have any kind of sex. That's good. But why is he even here? What did he do last night that left him with such a painful hangover? So many questions, so little time.

He decides that the first thing he must do is get something to cure this hangover he has. Or, well.. Actually, there's something else he has to do.

Ryan immediately makes a run to the bathroom. He silently promises to clean up any mess he makes.

--

Luke's coffee maker is frustrating. Ryan can't figure out why he has to have some fancy machine, all it does is make coffee! He huffs in frustration and goes over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.

Ryan read somewhere on Twitter that coffee helps cure hangovers. All he wants to do is put that to the test but someone's coffee machine isn't cooperating! He grabs the bottle of painkillers he found and takes a couple out, immediately downing them with a gulp of water. It's the good shit that kicks in quickly, or at least that's what the package says. He has faith in the marketing team, though, so he smiles to himself and relaxes. Maybe it's the placebo effect, maybe it's legitimately working. Who knows!