the hangover-phil wenneck

eight

You groan as you tear apart the living room, looking absolutely everywhere as you all rushedly search for the damn purse. Phil stands at the opposite side of the room checking the kitchen area as Stu checks closets, Alan in the bedrooms.

"Shit!" you yell, standing up and tugging at your hair when you notice the entire area is cleared and still no purse. You quickly get down on your stomach, checking underneath the couches. Stu walks into the room starting to check around the blankets on the floor.

"Guys, I'm telling you, I looked for it this morning before we left. It's not anywhere," Alan says, walking back into the room.

"Fuck," Phil sighs, knocking something over before leaning against the counter. "Stu, how much you got in the bank?"

"About ten grand, maybe more. I was gonna use it for the wedding," Stu says as you slowly stand up off the ground.

"Well you're already married, so you're good there," Phil says, stepping down into the lounge. "Besides, enough of Melissa. She's the worst."

"Yeah, Doug told me she had sex with a pilot, or something like that," Alan says, holding up the knocked over couch. You accidentally laugh, hiding your face with your hand.

"It was a bartender on a cruise. What is wrong with you people-Ew, Alan! Did you just eat sofa pizza?" Stu asks as you all look over and see Alan eating a random slice of pizza.

"Yes," he answers.

"I don't know how he hasn't caught anything," you say.

"What are we gonna do? We are so fucked," Phil says quietly.

"Hey guys?" Alan says.

"Did you find it?" Stu asks, sitting up from his previous laid-back position on the couch.

"Nope. But check this out," he says, holding up his Blackjack book.

-

You gently knock on Phil's door, pushing your hair out of your face as you wait.

"Come in," he calls out. You open the door, gently shutting it behind you before seeing him inside the bathroom, standing shirtless in front of the mirror. He glances over at you in the reflection, his eyes wandering down your body before meeting your eyes again.

"Hey, everything okay?" he asks, turning to face you.

"Yeah, I was just wondering if you had an extra face cloth or something? Mine are all missing," you say, stepping to stand in the doorway.

"Yeah, of course," he says, finding one of the folded ones on the counter and handing it to you.

"Thanks," you say, about to turn away when Phil stops you.

"You can do it here, if you'd like," he smiles. You chuckle, moving over to his sink and wetting the cloth before wiping the blood off your forehead, trying to make yourself look as presentable as you can.

"Not very often I see you in a dress," he smirks, fixing his hair to look presentable as well.

"Anything for the people I love, I guess. My inner conscience must've known when I packed it," you chuckle, Phil smiling down at you. Once you wipe all the dry blood off your head, you move to your knuckles, looking at the stained pink-red white cloth. You glance up at Phil, seeing him wince slightly as he touches his neck.

"Here, maybe some of this blood will come off," you say, putting down your cloth before grabbing a new one. Phil turns and leans his back against the counter as you wet the cloth, moving in front of him before gently dabbing it along his neck. You can't help but let your eyes wander up as you gently wipe the blood off the scratch, it successfully becoming less noticeable as you wipe it.