Just Dance - Lady Gaga
warnings: language, heavy underage drinking, sexually explicit scenes, mentions of vomiting
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Eddie's eyes fluttered open, introducing him to an unfamiliar room. He was under the covers of a bed he'd never been in before... but with every shaky breath he took, his surroundings seemed to have some hint of something he was used to. It was in itch in the back of his brain, and he just barely couldn't place the ghostly familiarity.
He slowly sat up, taking in the room. There were several band posters, a towering comic book collection, and most noticeable of all, a huge mess of clothes and just plain things scattered all across the room. In the distance, he could hear faint rhythmic whistling and the soft sounds of popping and sizzling that accompany cooking food.
Someone else was here.
He walked to the kitchen. Upon entering, he saw a lanky boy bent slightly over the counter... and on top of his head were some all-too-familiar wild waves and explosions of unkempt curls. He swallowed nervously, biting his lip.
Why was he in Richie's apartment?
The dull pain in his skull slowly grew noticeably louder.
"Ah, you're finally up. Mornin' Sleeping Beauty," Richie hummed, his back facing Eddie as he flipped a piece of sizzling bacon.
"Shut up, Richie." Eddie groaned, rubbing his now throbbing head. Richie turned to face the smaller boy, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
"Make me," Richie smirked.
His head hurt, he was tired, and he wasn't in the mood. Eddie crossed his arms and looked Richie dead in the eye. "Just stop. You aren't getting in my pants."
"You aren't wearing any," Richie quickly snapped in reply, his eyes glancing down for a split second. Eddie's eyes shot open. He frantically looked down to see nothing but his smooth caramel legs and his boxers barely peeking out from a shirt that- he now realized- was about three sizes too big, and not his.
"Gah, what the fuck?!" He exclaimed, his voice squeaking in the middle of the sentence. He tugged down on the shirt in an attempt to cover as much skin as possible. "What happened last night?"
He racked his brain, trying to remember something from the previous night- anything. But it was like trying to remember a dream one too many minutes after waking up. All he got were still shots, every fragmented memory burying him deeper in his confusion.
There were lights... flashing, multicolored ones... He remembered dancing and a song with an overpowering bass that boomed through his skull. He remembered yelling and laughing and people...lots of them- friends and complete strangers all the same.
But there was something else that he just couldn't reach...
"You really don't remember anything?" Richie scoffed. Eddie just stared back, shaking his head helplessly.
"I'm not surprised, with the way you were..." Richie chuckled, then followed it up with a soft "Jesus, eds."
"Please, don't call me that," Eddie begged.
"Right, right." Richie clicked his tongue and winked. "Ah, the food is done."
Richie calmly walked from counter to counter, piling two plates with the food he had prepared. Eddie watched his back muscles move as he worked.
"So, let's talk about it," Richie said. "Last night."
Eddie nodded. Rich cleared his throat.
"You may wanna, uh, sit down for this."
