Summary:
Louis wakes up with a killer hangover and a marriage certificate for a guy he's never even met before.
**
It's every cliché ever written about hangovers that Louis is one hundred percent experiencing right now. The throbbing headache, the churning stomach, the sensitive eyes - all of it. He's experiencing all of it and it sucks.
With a groan, Louis manages to crack open his left eye just a tiny bit. Even that hurts far too much. He quickly closes his eyes, scrunching them closed against the brightness of the room. He must have forgotten to close his blinds last night after getting in, or something. Not that he even actually remembers getting home. He just hopes he didn't embarrass himself too much, unlike other times he has.
A groan rings throughout the room and it takes Louis a few long moments to realise that it didn't come from him. He furrows his brow a little, even that hurts, everything just hurts, and he has to wonder just how much he had to drink the night before. It's probably time he limits himself. A part of him snorts at that. Louis knows that he tends to overdo it. Compensation for not drinking too much in his earlier years. He groans again. He's now twenty-five years old. When the heck did that happen?
There's another groan and Louis snaps both eyes open. He immediately regrets it, of course, as the light of the room floods his pupils, making everything hurt one hundred times more. He turns his head slowly and yep, there's a body in the bed next to him. All he can see is a mass of curly brown hair poking over the top of the blankets.
"Fuck," the person next to him mumbles, unintentionally sounding like a foghorn to Louis' sensitive ears.
It takes another moment for Louis to realise that he's completely naked under the covers and from the looks of things, the person sitting up next to him also is naked. Well, he hopes that he had a good time at least. It's a shame he can't remember it, though, especially not when the other male turns around to look over at him.
"Oops," the stranger says, a guilty look on his face, like he is annoyed with himself for swearing or generally being hung over.
"Hi," Louis says with a nod. He regrets that, too. He squeezes his eyes closed and wills the throbbing in his head to go away. The bed dips and shifts as the stranger gets out of bed. There are soft footsteps echoing through the room as he leaves and Louis wonders exactly where the guy is going. He isn't even sure that he showed the guy around last night, if at all, when they got back.
"Here." The voice is back a moment later and Louis squints up at him. There's a glass of water being held out to him and a genuinely concerned look on the other guy's face.
"Thanks," Louis says and slowly sits up. He reaches for the glass and takes the two paracetamol pills in the guy's other hand, swallowing them down with the entire glass of water.
"So," the guy starts. "I'm not sure about you but I have no idea who you are?"
Louis lets out a sigh of relief. "Me either," he replies. "I'm Louis."
"Harry." He has a nice smile, Louis thinks as he sets the glass down. "Not sure if you're aware where you are, but we're at my flat."
"Oh." Louis looks around the room a little and realises that yes, he is definitely not in his bedroom in his flat. Not by a long shot. His gaze travels across the room, taking in the corkboard filled with photos hanging on one wall, to the very large window that has absolutely no blinds whatsoever, letting in too much sunlight for Louis' poor hangover to deal with. His gaze settles back on Harry, taking in his slightly flushed cheeks, his striking green eyes, and his unruly curly hair. Louis bets that he got his hands in there good the night before. "Shit," he starts, biting his lip. Strangely, Harry does the same. "I don't even remember if we had sex last night."
