Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti)

Chapter 26: Hangover

'Rise and shine, Gregory!'

Greg groaned. This was what his mother did every time he slept through his alarm. It was absolute murder when he was nursing a hangover. Even worse when he was trying to pretend he wasn't hungover.

Greg moaned as he sat up, the blankets pooling around his thighs. Mycroft's manager... something, Greg couldn't remember the dude's name, had driven Mycroft's Jag with Greg, Mycroft, and John stuffed into the backseat, Sherlock sprawled across the passenger seat and talking loudly. Mycroft had been in no condition to help Greg into his room, so Greg had been dropped off in the street and left to his own devices (after a nice, long snog from Mycroft, of course).

He'd nearly killed himself at least twelve times stumbling up the driveway, and again climbing through his bedroom window. How is mum hadn't heard him was beyond Greg.

He'd dropped into bed around four-thirty or five, again Greg was a little hazy on the details. And now it was six, Greg had slept maybe an hour, and his brain was trying to explode from his ears, eyes, nose... well, it was just being a fucking bitch.

Greg hissed as his mum pulled the drapes open, making Maggie turn and stare at him. 'What's wrong with you?' she asked.

Trying to form a coherent sentence seemed like the biggest task Greg had ever undertaken, but after a few seconds he said, 'Just got a migraine, have since last night.'

'Hmm,' Maggie mused, looking the teenager over. She'd seen enough drunk teenagers at the hospital, as well as her own son, to know when someone was hungover. 'You sure about that?'

Greg blinked and tried to look at his mum, wincing against as sunlight hit his eyes. 'Y-Yeah,' he said. 'My head... hurts...'

Which wasn't a lie; his head was pounding.

'You look hungover,' Maggie said.

'Hungover? Yeah, feel a bit like that,' Greg said, hoping him admitting to it would fool his mum. 'Wish I was, that'd be a hell of a lot better.'

Maggie frowned at that and moved forward, pressing her hand to Greg's forehead. 'You're not warm.'

'Just... painkillers, I think,' Greg said. 'I should be fine.'

'Are you sure?' Maggie asked.

Greg nodded, breathing in deeply. He'd gone to school with hangovers before (though he'd usually slept at least six hours) so he should be fine... you know, when he stopped feeling like he was dying.

'Yeah,' he finally grunted and stumbled from bed. 'Just... shower... painkillers.' Maggie watched him with narrowed eyes, but Greg was beyond caring. He needed to drown himself in the shower and then shove painkillers down his throat.

{oOo}

Fifteen minutes later Greg still felt like shit, but at least it was just a throb in his temples opposed to a death march. He couldn't bear the thought of food but sucked down some orange juice before kissing his mum goodbye- Maggie was still staring at him.

Greg rode to school and found that Mycroft wasn't waiting for him this morning like he usually did. Greg wasn't surprised, really. He'd still be in bed if his mum wasn't there to wake him up.

So he did his detention, feeling like the world was trying to kill him, but when it was over he was free; that was the last one, the two weeks were up. He had a party Saturday night- which he'd definitely be going to if his mum let him off- and an entire two days of hopefully making out with Mycroft Holmes.

Greg's heart still skipped a beat whenever he thought of the night before. A lot of it was hazy, but Greg remembered Mycroft rubbing against him; his hot, sweaty skin; his long, thick cock; his-