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darnedchildSummary: Fandom Christmas in July 2020 drabble: July 26 - prompt "Hangover"
Rating: T
A/N - One of thirty-one prompts for the thirty-one days of July. I plan to fill as many of them as I can with two hundred word drabbles.
The Morning After
26. Prompt – Hangover
Fandom – Cabin Pressure
Ship – Gen, all character friendships
Title – The Morning After
“Good morning.” Douglas’ normally dulcet voice cracked through the air like a breaking mirror.
Arthur jerked awake, limbs wildly flailing, and fell off the sofa where he had fallen asleep—passed out—the night before.
Martin fared marginally better; he had been curled up on the floor to begin with. “Wha—” His mouth felt like it was full of paste and he had to clear his throat several times to try again. “What time is it?”
“Nearly noon.” Herc strolled into Douglas’ sitting room, looking far too put together for a man who had spent the night drinking everyone—other than Douglas, who had abstained—under the table. He began to help clean up the remnants of Martin’s bachelor party, starting with moving a mostly empty bottle of peach schnapps far out of Arthur’s reach.
Douglas nudged Martin with his foot. “Theresa will have my head if you aren’t fully sober and washed up before the rehearsal dinner.”
“Don’t mention food,” Martin groaned. “I’m never eating again.”
Arthur perked up. “Is it too late for breakfast?” Before Martin could groan again, Arthur laughed. “How silly of me. Of course, it’s not too late. It’s never too late for breakfast.”
Rating: T
A/N - One of thirty-one prompts for the thirty-one days of July. I plan to fill as many of them as I can with two hundred word drabbles.
The Morning After
26. Prompt – Hangover
Fandom – Cabin Pressure
Ship – Gen, all character friendships
Title – The Morning After
“Good morning.” Douglas’ normally dulcet voice cracked through the air like a breaking mirror.
Arthur jerked awake, limbs wildly flailing, and fell off the sofa where he had fallen asleep—passed out—the night before.
Martin fared marginally better; he had been curled up on the floor to begin with. “Wha—” His mouth felt like it was full of paste and he had to clear his throat several times to try again. “What time is it?”
“Nearly noon.” Herc strolled into Douglas’ sitting room, looking far too put together for a man who had spent the night drinking everyone—other than Douglas, who had abstained—under the table. He began to help clean up the remnants of Martin’s bachelor party, starting with moving a mostly empty bottle of peach schnapps far out of Arthur’s reach.
Douglas nudged Martin with his foot. “Theresa will have my head if you aren’t fully sober and washed up before the rehearsal dinner.”
“Don’t mention food,” Martin groaned. “I’m never eating again.”
Arthur perked up. “Is it too late for breakfast?” Before Martin could groan again, Arthur laughed. “How silly of me. Of course, it’s not too late. It’s never too late for breakfast.”