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nobrandheroTitle: The Limited Perks of a Hangover
Fandom: Homestuck
Rating: G
Word count: 1,653
Pairing(s): Jade Harley/Roxy Lalonde
Warnings: mentions of alcohol
Summary: Breakfast in bed and extra affection from your girlfriend does not make up for waking with a killer hangover, but it sure isn't unappreciated.
Read on Dreamwidth under the cut, or over on AO3.
----
Fuuuuck. Fuckity, fuck, shit, ow.
Why, why, why, why is your drunk self too overconfident and stupid to drink water before bed? You never remember the price of neglecting to hydrate until you're sober and the sun's beating on your face through the window like a rudeass motherfucker.
You want to roll over and hide your eyes against the safety of your pillow, but you groan at the mere thought of moving your throbbing head that much. Instead you pull the covers over your face and squeeze your eyes shut.
"Good morning!" a voice says far, far, far, far too loudly from the doorway.
Of course Jade's already up to greet the morning like some kind of cheerful not-hungover person. You should've noticed the lack of warm girlfriend at your side earlier. Here you didn't even know you had the option of sprawling out across the entire mattress.
You groan. "Jade. Babe. Volume. No."
"Oh. Sorry," she whispers. "Not feeling well today?"
"Are all the empty bottles of booze a hint?" You shouldn't have left them littered around the floor, but shhhhh. You'll recycle them later.
"I thought you were going to start drinking a glass of water for every bottle?"
You whine. "I knoooow, but my drunk ass forgooooooot." You lower the blankets just enough to peek at her. She's even dressed already. She frowns at you with her hands on her hips so you make sure to pout a little. "Gimme painkiller?"
She sighs and comes over to give you a quick peck on the forehead. "Of course I will, dummy. Just hang on a minute."
She closes the drapes before she leaves, because Jade Harley is a considerate fucking angel who thinks of everything before anyone's even gotta ask. You let the blankets drop off your face with a sigh of relief as you're protected from the awful, sadistic sunlight. Everything still hurts and is terrible, but at least you're free from exterior sources of pain.
You've almost passed out again by the time Jade's back -- you're not sure if she took too long or if you're tired enough to fall asleep despite pain. You jolt back into waking when Jade bumps against the door frame with something plastic.
She's carrying a steaming breakfast tray. The smell would be heavenly if your head wasn't swimming, but instead you kind of want to hide back under the covers the more it wafts up your nostrils. She sets the tray over your lap before climbing onto her side of the mattress and snuggling up beside you.
"Here we go." She presses two orange pills into your hand and helps you sit up.
You blink groggily at the tray sitting over your lap. There are two glasses of water, two plates covered with bread and scrambled eggs, and two bowls full of strawberries, blueberries, and melon slices. "Where's the bbbb'con?" you mumble.
She picks up a glass of water and slips it into your other hand. "The what now?" she asks.
"B'con, bac'n, th' bacon, Jade." You swallow half the water with your painkiller and let out a loud gasp. "You can't have breakfast without bacon."
"Well, a bunch of greasy meat doesn't sound very tasty for a hangover, actually!" she says with a smile. "But there's a fruit cup, and eggs, and toast with fresh jam, and lots of water!" She points to each item as she lists it.
"Jade." You flop your head against her shoulder. "Jade, you're trying to make me vegan."
She kisses your temple. "Vegans don't eat eggs, silly."
"There should at least be sausage on this plate."
She picks up a strawberry and holds it to your mouth. "Shoosh and eat your fruit. It's yummy."
It is yummy. Jade's homegrown fruit is sometimes a bit smaller than you're used to, but the juice that gushes out packs more flavor than twenty berries from the grocery store. It's still not bacon. "We're cooking a whole gaddamn pig for dinner," you mumble as you chew.
She hums as she pops a piece of melon into her mouth. "I was thinking a nice, big salad."
"Jaaade!"
"I'm joking!" She laughs and gives you a sideways hug. "We can go to the store once you're feeling better and get as much meat as you want."
"And ice cream," you grumble, snuggling into Jade's warmth.
"Absolutely!" She pets your hair, running her fingers through it and gently smoothing out the tangles you developed overnight. Your hair probably needs washed, and you hate how flat it looks before you have a chance to curl the ends, but she dotes on it all the same.
You sigh and tilt your head into her hand. "You're gonna spoil the hungover girl like a goddamn princess and feed her by hand to make up for the lack of fatty meats, right?"
"Hmm..." She glances at the ceiling in thought, her smile turning sneaky. "Maybe if you return the favor."
You narrow your eyes and fumble for the tray without taking your eyes off her until your fingertips make contact with a soft, damp, cold piece of fruit. "You drive a hard bargain, Harley."
"It's only fair." She holds her mouth open so you can pop a blueberry into it.
"You're not the one with a headache," you grumble and give her nose a flick.
She chuckles. "You seem to be coping pretty well to me," she says around the blueberry before swallowing it.
"Y'learn to fake it. It's called acting."
She picks at the food on the tray. "Mm-hm, I guess I'll ignore all the whining you were up to earlier."
You open your mouth to defend your honor -- you need to warm up those fab acting skills of yours a little, sheesh -- but she takes the opportunity to stick a piece of toast between your teeth and you've no choice but to bite down without saying a word.
The toast is almost worth the lack of bacon. You didn't realize Jade had gotten another loaf from Jane recently, but you'd know that flavor anywhere. No store-bought bread tastes like this, thick yet soft and sweet almost like cake. You're pretty sure even the local bakeries would offer their firstborn in exchange for Jane's recipe -- though, knowing Jane, she doesn't even follow a goddamn recipe anymore and just wings it.
Jade's jam is a perfect complement to the bread, made from fruit taken directly from her garden. It's less sweet than the shit from the grocery store, but it doesn't need the extra sugar when the fruit flavor is already so strong. Thank god your stomach's feeling stable despite a night of drinking.
You can never, ever, ever break up with this girl, because you don't know how to garden and you cannot lose this (and also you love Jade and stuff because she's the best).
The eggs seem so weak compared to the rest of your breakfast-y feast -- and not just because they aren't finger food. They're not bad, they're just... average. Clearly, you need to befriend someone with a goddamn chicken coop so you can get your hands on some fresh eggs.
"How's your headache now?" Jade says, feeding herself a bite of egg instead of forcing you to fiddle with a fork.
You slide down against your pillows. "Still hurts like a motherfucker 'cos painkillers are a bitch that take half an hour to kick in."
She pats your shoulder. "That's not much longer at least."
"Easy to say for the girl who isn't in pain." You hope you don't sound as bitter as you're afraid you do. You're not mad at her; you're just cranky at the never-ending pounding in your brain.
Her smile doesn't even falter. "How about we do what we can to make up for the pain?" She lifts the tray with both hands and sets it on the floor so there's nothing to risk bumping into as she lies down with you.
She wraps her arms snugly around your waist and presses her face against the back of your shoulder. Oh hell yes, nothing beats being the little spoon except maybe being the big spoon. You'd tilt your head back to bonk gently against hers or reach over your shoulder to press her tighter against you, but that much movement sounds nauseating, so you let her set the pace.
She presses light kisses against your neck, her lips so soft against your skin that it feels like butterflies landing on your throat. She slips a hand up and over your chest, resting it against your cheek before gently stroking your face.
You at least have the fortitude to move your legs, so you slip your feet back to mingle with hers. She's already wearing her knee-length socks, so her warmth is dampened by a layer of fabric no matter how you search for bare skin.
You wish you could run your fingers through her long hair, wrap a strand around your pinky as you tease her about split ends... Maybe you could manage that much movement -- it can't be worse than what you forced yourself through when feeding each other -- but she shifts her head and her hair spills over your shoulder and rests over your chest, going so far as to slip down the front of your sleep shirt. Gravity loves you sometimes.
"How's this?" she whispers. You can feel her breath against your skin.
You sigh, closing your eyes. "About as great as it gets with a skull that feels like it's splitting open."
She smiles -- you can't see it, but you can feel her face muscles contract, as they're pressed against your shoulder. She slides her hand down your arm until she makes contact with your palm. She slips her fingers over yours and you squeeze back.
The headache is worth this. Maybe, just this once, the painkiller can take its sweet time kicking in.
Fandom: Homestuck
Rating: G
Word count: 1,653
Pairing(s): Jade Harley/Roxy Lalonde
Warnings: mentions of alcohol
Summary: Breakfast in bed and extra affection from your girlfriend does not make up for waking with a killer hangover, but it sure isn't unappreciated.
Read on Dreamwidth under the cut, or over on AO3.
----
Fuuuuck. Fuckity, fuck, shit, ow.
Why, why, why, why is your drunk self too overconfident and stupid to drink water before bed? You never remember the price of neglecting to hydrate until you're sober and the sun's beating on your face through the window like a rudeass motherfucker.
You want to roll over and hide your eyes against the safety of your pillow, but you groan at the mere thought of moving your throbbing head that much. Instead you pull the covers over your face and squeeze your eyes shut.
"Good morning!" a voice says far, far, far, far too loudly from the doorway.
Of course Jade's already up to greet the morning like some kind of cheerful not-hungover person. You should've noticed the lack of warm girlfriend at your side earlier. Here you didn't even know you had the option of sprawling out across the entire mattress.
You groan. "Jade. Babe. Volume. No."
"Oh. Sorry," she whispers. "Not feeling well today?"
"Are all the empty bottles of booze a hint?" You shouldn't have left them littered around the floor, but shhhhh. You'll recycle them later.
"I thought you were going to start drinking a glass of water for every bottle?"
You whine. "I knoooow, but my drunk ass forgooooooot." You lower the blankets just enough to peek at her. She's even dressed already. She frowns at you with her hands on her hips so you make sure to pout a little. "Gimme painkiller?"
She sighs and comes over to give you a quick peck on the forehead. "Of course I will, dummy. Just hang on a minute."
She closes the drapes before she leaves, because Jade Harley is a considerate fucking angel who thinks of everything before anyone's even gotta ask. You let the blankets drop off your face with a sigh of relief as you're protected from the awful, sadistic sunlight. Everything still hurts and is terrible, but at least you're free from exterior sources of pain.
You've almost passed out again by the time Jade's back -- you're not sure if she took too long or if you're tired enough to fall asleep despite pain. You jolt back into waking when Jade bumps against the door frame with something plastic.
She's carrying a steaming breakfast tray. The smell would be heavenly if your head wasn't swimming, but instead you kind of want to hide back under the covers the more it wafts up your nostrils. She sets the tray over your lap before climbing onto her side of the mattress and snuggling up beside you.
"Here we go." She presses two orange pills into your hand and helps you sit up.
You blink groggily at the tray sitting over your lap. There are two glasses of water, two plates covered with bread and scrambled eggs, and two bowls full of strawberries, blueberries, and melon slices. "Where's the bbbb'con?" you mumble.
She picks up a glass of water and slips it into your other hand. "The what now?" she asks.
"B'con, bac'n, th' bacon, Jade." You swallow half the water with your painkiller and let out a loud gasp. "You can't have breakfast without bacon."
"Well, a bunch of greasy meat doesn't sound very tasty for a hangover, actually!" she says with a smile. "But there's a fruit cup, and eggs, and toast with fresh jam, and lots of water!" She points to each item as she lists it.
"Jade." You flop your head against her shoulder. "Jade, you're trying to make me vegan."
She kisses your temple. "Vegans don't eat eggs, silly."
"There should at least be sausage on this plate."
She picks up a strawberry and holds it to your mouth. "Shoosh and eat your fruit. It's yummy."
It is yummy. Jade's homegrown fruit is sometimes a bit smaller than you're used to, but the juice that gushes out packs more flavor than twenty berries from the grocery store. It's still not bacon. "We're cooking a whole gaddamn pig for dinner," you mumble as you chew.
She hums as she pops a piece of melon into her mouth. "I was thinking a nice, big salad."
"Jaaade!"
"I'm joking!" She laughs and gives you a sideways hug. "We can go to the store once you're feeling better and get as much meat as you want."
"And ice cream," you grumble, snuggling into Jade's warmth.
"Absolutely!" She pets your hair, running her fingers through it and gently smoothing out the tangles you developed overnight. Your hair probably needs washed, and you hate how flat it looks before you have a chance to curl the ends, but she dotes on it all the same.
You sigh and tilt your head into her hand. "You're gonna spoil the hungover girl like a goddamn princess and feed her by hand to make up for the lack of fatty meats, right?"
"Hmm..." She glances at the ceiling in thought, her smile turning sneaky. "Maybe if you return the favor."
You narrow your eyes and fumble for the tray without taking your eyes off her until your fingertips make contact with a soft, damp, cold piece of fruit. "You drive a hard bargain, Harley."
"It's only fair." She holds her mouth open so you can pop a blueberry into it.
"You're not the one with a headache," you grumble and give her nose a flick.
She chuckles. "You seem to be coping pretty well to me," she says around the blueberry before swallowing it.
"Y'learn to fake it. It's called acting."
She picks at the food on the tray. "Mm-hm, I guess I'll ignore all the whining you were up to earlier."
You open your mouth to defend your honor -- you need to warm up those fab acting skills of yours a little, sheesh -- but she takes the opportunity to stick a piece of toast between your teeth and you've no choice but to bite down without saying a word.
The toast is almost worth the lack of bacon. You didn't realize Jade had gotten another loaf from Jane recently, but you'd know that flavor anywhere. No store-bought bread tastes like this, thick yet soft and sweet almost like cake. You're pretty sure even the local bakeries would offer their firstborn in exchange for Jane's recipe -- though, knowing Jane, she doesn't even follow a goddamn recipe anymore and just wings it.
Jade's jam is a perfect complement to the bread, made from fruit taken directly from her garden. It's less sweet than the shit from the grocery store, but it doesn't need the extra sugar when the fruit flavor is already so strong. Thank god your stomach's feeling stable despite a night of drinking.
You can never, ever, ever break up with this girl, because you don't know how to garden and you cannot lose this (and also you love Jade and stuff because she's the best).
The eggs seem so weak compared to the rest of your breakfast-y feast -- and not just because they aren't finger food. They're not bad, they're just... average. Clearly, you need to befriend someone with a goddamn chicken coop so you can get your hands on some fresh eggs.
"How's your headache now?" Jade says, feeding herself a bite of egg instead of forcing you to fiddle with a fork.
You slide down against your pillows. "Still hurts like a motherfucker 'cos painkillers are a bitch that take half an hour to kick in."
She pats your shoulder. "That's not much longer at least."
"Easy to say for the girl who isn't in pain." You hope you don't sound as bitter as you're afraid you do. You're not mad at her; you're just cranky at the never-ending pounding in your brain.
Her smile doesn't even falter. "How about we do what we can to make up for the pain?" She lifts the tray with both hands and sets it on the floor so there's nothing to risk bumping into as she lies down with you.
She wraps her arms snugly around your waist and presses her face against the back of your shoulder. Oh hell yes, nothing beats being the little spoon except maybe being the big spoon. You'd tilt your head back to bonk gently against hers or reach over your shoulder to press her tighter against you, but that much movement sounds nauseating, so you let her set the pace.
She presses light kisses against your neck, her lips so soft against your skin that it feels like butterflies landing on your throat. She slips a hand up and over your chest, resting it against your cheek before gently stroking your face.
You at least have the fortitude to move your legs, so you slip your feet back to mingle with hers. She's already wearing her knee-length socks, so her warmth is dampened by a layer of fabric no matter how you search for bare skin.
You wish you could run your fingers through her long hair, wrap a strand around your pinky as you tease her about split ends... Maybe you could manage that much movement -- it can't be worse than what you forced yourself through when feeding each other -- but she shifts her head and her hair spills over your shoulder and rests over your chest, going so far as to slip down the front of your sleep shirt. Gravity loves you sometimes.
"How's this?" she whispers. You can feel her breath against your skin.
You sigh, closing your eyes. "About as great as it gets with a skull that feels like it's splitting open."
She smiles -- you can't see it, but you can feel her face muscles contract, as they're pressed against your shoulder. She slides her hand down your arm until she makes contact with your palm. She slips her fingers over yours and you squeeze back.
The headache is worth this. Maybe, just this once, the painkiller can take its sweet time kicking in.
