One of the awesome things about being Jared - and, come on, there are many awesome things - is his amazing capacity to escape the dread post-party horror known as the hangover. When he wakes up on the living room floor with his head on one of the sofa cushions, there's maybe a flutter of a headache behind his eyes, but his stomach isn't roiling, his throat isn't tight. The rug underneath him smells like beer and sweat and something else that makes Jared think he must have been seriously hella drunk last night if he can't remember how he got here, but he isn't hung over. Jared takes half a second to offer up a prayer of gratitude to the relevant deity before he stretches, popping his back where it's knotted up in the middle, and lumbers to his feet.
The room is definitely empty. Jared pauses for a minute to gather himself, struggling to remember last night, but a terrifyingly large portion of it seems to have erased itself. He remembers Jeff being here with them, but he doesn't remember him leaving. There was an ill-advised game of Twister, but the mat and other accoutrements have all been cleared away. Jared peers down at the beer stains on his rug and frowns. Jensen must have done that, which suggests that Jensen was maaaaaaaybe less drunk than he was.
Jared's not exactly the greatest fan of having temporary amnesia about whatever he may have done the night before. It seems only logical to go and find out if Jensen can shed some light on the matter, and possibly help him Vax the goddamn mess out of the carpet. Undoubtedly at least some of it must have been his fault.
He and Jensen have never really put much stock by privacy - or at least, Jared never ever has, and Jensen, despite his natural persnicketiness on the subject, has somehow never minded when it's only Jared barging into his personal space uninvited, as if Jared falls into a category all his own. Obviously, they give each other a bit more leeway when there's been a hot date in the offing, but Jared's pretty damn sure there were no ladies on the premises last night. Just the two of them, plus Misha and Jeff. So he doesn't hesitate before shoving open Jensen's bedroom door without knocking.
"Jen," he starts - because if Jensen's not awake yet, he deserves to be, because Jared is, and that's the important thing - "Do you know why - oh."
He trails off. The lump under the bedcovers that is Jensen hasn't moved, apparently not roused by Jared's brusque good morning, but something tells Jared that possibly his expectations of Jensen having been less drunk last night are way off. The something being, namely, the fact that Jensen is not the only lump in the bed; and also the part where the other lump appears to have Misha's head.
"Um," says Jared. The Misha lump wriggles a little, nuzzling down against the pillow, but otherwise shows no signs of waking.
Jared takes a moment to be mildly pissed that Misha got to sleep in a bed last night when he doesn't even live here, instead of having to wake up with a crick in his back the size of a woolly mammoth. Then he thinks about his own tendency to pass out cold when overly intoxicated, and decides maybe Misha isn't to blame. Jared wouldn't want to lug himself up the stairs either.
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branchandroot
:DDDD IT'S NOT A THREESOME GO ME [1]
Date: 2011-05-19 12:07 pm (UTC)The room is definitely empty. Jared pauses for a minute to gather himself, struggling to remember last night, but a terrifyingly large portion of it seems to have erased itself. He remembers Jeff being here with them, but he doesn't remember him leaving. There was an ill-advised game of Twister, but the mat and other accoutrements have all been cleared away. Jared peers down at the beer stains on his rug and frowns. Jensen must have done that, which suggests that Jensen was maaaaaaaybe less drunk than he was.
Jared's not exactly the greatest fan of having temporary amnesia about whatever he may have done the night before. It seems only logical to go and find out if Jensen can shed some light on the matter, and possibly help him Vax the goddamn mess out of the carpet. Undoubtedly at least some of it must have been his fault.
He and Jensen have never really put much stock by privacy - or at least, Jared never ever has, and Jensen, despite his natural persnicketiness on the subject, has somehow never minded when it's only Jared barging into his personal space uninvited, as if Jared falls into a category all his own. Obviously, they give each other a bit more leeway when there's been a hot date in the offing, but Jared's pretty damn sure there were no ladies on the premises last night. Just the two of them, plus Misha and Jeff. So he doesn't hesitate before shoving open Jensen's bedroom door without knocking.
"Jen," he starts - because if Jensen's not awake yet, he deserves to be, because Jared is, and that's the important thing - "Do you know why - oh."
He trails off. The lump under the bedcovers that is Jensen hasn't moved, apparently not roused by Jared's brusque good morning, but something tells Jared that possibly his expectations of Jensen having been less drunk last night are way off. The something being, namely, the fact that Jensen is not the only lump in the bed; and also the part where the other lump appears to have Misha's head.
"Um," says Jared. The Misha lump wriggles a little, nuzzling down against the pillow, but otherwise shows no signs of waking.
Jared takes a moment to be mildly pissed that Misha got to sleep in a bed last night when he doesn't even live here, instead of having to wake up with a crick in his back the size of a woolly mammoth. Then he thinks about his own tendency to pass out cold when overly intoxicated, and decides maybe Misha isn't to blame. Jared wouldn't want to lug himself up the stairs either.