Alright. Prompt me. Any fandom, any pairing, any situation. If I don't know it, I'll research it and do my best, or ask you for another option. Seriously, go freaking crazy, people. I'm bored and want to write.
Adam flails his way into consciousness, groaning as a million miniature fans start screaming inside his head like he's just won ten Stanley Cups single-handed. He can't open his eyes, because even the thought of light makes him nauseous, and for a second he wishes someone would knock him back out. Then someone moves next to him on the bed, and he changes that wish from being knocked out to being killed.
"What. the. fuck."
Sharpie's voice is rough and gritty, and way too loud for the level of hungover Adam is currently wallowing in. The other man doesn't seem to care, or he's just being an evil dick, it's hard to tell sometimes, and he shoves at Adam's shoulder. It almost sends him off the side of the bed, does set the room to spinning dangerously, so Adam flails out with his legs, connecting solidly with either a hip or a knee.
"'m gonna puke on you," he grumbles, slowly turning over so he can squint a glare at Sharpie, who seems to be covered in glitter and has a crumpled envelope taped to his forehead. "Wha's 'at?"
A few strands of hair come away with the tape when Sharpie pulls the envelope off with a hiss. It's got a few things stuffed inside it, the first of which is a piece of hotel stationary covered in Tazer's messy scrawl.
"Guys- I tried to stop you, I really did. Bur, if you were still on my team I would kill you in the next practice for giving me a black eye. Congratulations, enjoy the honeymoon. Don't expect a present, bailing you out of jail is more than enough."
"We got arrested?" Adam frowns when Patrick falls silent; he doesn't remember that, but then again, he doesn't remember much of last night after watching Kaner propose to the ninth showgirl they'd met.
"It gets worse," comes the strangled reply, and wow, Sharpie looks like he's about to puke. Adam says as much, and then has a piece of thick card-stock and a glossy pamphlet shoved in his face as Sharpie grabs for a trashcan.
The pamphlet says something like "Eight Easy Steps to Becoming Canadian", and Adam chuckles mentally. That little bit of humor vanishes as he takes in the details of the certificate he's holding, which proudly proclaims him to be the new husband of one Patrick Sharp.
"Dude," he breathes, blindly reaching for Patrick. "Dude, we did not get married in Vegas!"
"We didn't," Patrick sighs. "Technically, the Consulate is Canadian soil."
"Oh. Go brush your teeth." Patrick looks at him for the odd non-sequitor, and Adam can feel himself grinning. "I'm not kissing my husband for the first time with puke breath. Go."
"What. the. fuck."
Sharpie's voice is rough and gritty, and way too loud for the level of hungover Adam is currently wallowing in. The other man doesn't seem to care, or he's just being an evil dick, it's hard to tell sometimes, and he shoves at Adam's shoulder. It almost sends him off the side of the bed, does set the room to spinning dangerously, so Adam flails out with his legs, connecting solidly with either a hip or a knee.
"'m gonna puke on you," he grumbles, slowly turning over so he can squint a glare at Sharpie, who seems to be covered in glitter and has a crumpled envelope taped to his forehead. "Wha's 'at?"
A few strands of hair come away with the tape when Sharpie pulls the envelope off with a hiss. It's got a few things stuffed inside it, the first of which is a piece of hotel stationary covered in Tazer's messy scrawl.
"Guys- I tried to stop you, I really did. Bur, if you were still on my team I would kill you in the next practice for giving me a black eye. Congratulations, enjoy the honeymoon. Don't expect a present, bailing you out of jail is more than enough."
"We got arrested?" Adam frowns when Patrick falls silent; he doesn't remember that, but then again, he doesn't remember much of last night after watching Kaner propose to the ninth showgirl they'd met.
"It gets worse," comes the strangled reply, and wow, Sharpie looks like he's about to puke. Adam says as much, and then has a piece of thick card-stock and a glossy pamphlet shoved in his face as Sharpie grabs for a trashcan.
The pamphlet says something like "Eight Easy Steps to Becoming Canadian", and Adam chuckles mentally. That little bit of humor vanishes as he takes in the details of the certificate he's holding, which proudly proclaims him to be the new husband of one Patrick Sharp.
"Dude," he breathes, blindly reaching for Patrick. "Dude, we did not get married in Vegas!"
"We didn't," Patrick sighs. "Technically, the Consulate is Canadian soil."
"Oh. Go brush your teeth." Patrick looks at him for the odd non-sequitor, and Adam can feel himself grinning. "I'm not kissing my husband for the first time with puke breath. Go."
Sharpie goes.
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*hearteeyes foreverrrrrrrrrrr*
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