@playsdirty // siggy !! aaa !!
A BLANKET WAS TOSSED OVER THE OTHER WHEN HE PASSED OUT ON HIS COUCH, television switched off to spare jameson the noise. morning had come quickly and the wink of sleep siggy snatched had done little to wane away at the weariness woven into the marrow of his bones, but he had crawled out of bed anyway and taken on the morning in just his boxers, started a pot of coffee ( a bit more than usual to accommodate for his guest ), then grabbed a box of cereal.
steam is rising from a mug that says ‘fuck monday’ as it’s placed center with a coaster atop the coffee table before his friend and slid forward. he glances at jameson, gesturing with his index to the mug as he moves off to grab a band t-shirt hanging off the back of the couch. it’s pulled over bare skin in one quick motion and tugged down past hips.
“ WELL, FUCK YOU THEN. ” jameson probably doesn’t mean it. hues, rimmed with darkness, flutter open to his surroundings as a hand reaches from under the blanket to rub his face, feeling out the imprints that the arm of the coach have left in his cheek. even dim lighting is too much for him, and he’s soon to disappear under the blanket again for a moment as waking slowly, painfully pulls over him. how late had they been up? things go dark, disappear in his memory, and though it’s probably not a good thing, it’s nothing that a splash of cognac or whisky in his coffee won’t wipe from his conscience.
of course, this is easily remedied, and once a few moments have passed, he pushes himself from the blanket, and despite the headache, leans forward to grab a half - empty bottle of something clear ( where the fuck are his glasses? ) smells it first, then with a shrug, pours a good dollop into the mug siggy had provided. it’s not good when he takes a sip, but it’s better than feeling the hangover in full force. “ would it be stupid to ask if you slept any? ”
