(Untitled)

Apr 19, 2010 00:11

The next morning, Jack doesn't wake easily.  Mired in disturbing dreams, he tosses slightly as sleep eases its grip and as the dream fades and reality replaces it, he has a growing realization that he's not alone in the bed.

upstairs, carl benton

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one_man_army April 19 2010, 04:55:29 UTC
Carl notices that he's not alone, but he doesn't fully wake up. He doesn't ever want to wake up, so he burrows deeper beneath the sheets.

His long sleeved t-shirt is resting on the bed between them, after being stripped off in the middle of the night.

Not waking up. Ever.

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trigger_man April 19 2010, 05:01:42 UTC
Jack's head hurts like hell, but that doesn't stop Jack from opening his eyes for a second. Only a second, though, as the instant the light hits his eyes, it feels like someone's driving ice picks into his skull.

The fact that he can't remember much of the night before--other than drinking with Carl--and the fact that there's someone in his bed at the moment, forces him to brave the pain and take another glance. It's not long, but it's enough to take in the sight of Carl's head and bare shoulders sticking out from under the blanket, Carl's shirt lying between them.

For a moment, there's a single, near-panicked thought that shoots through Jack's head like a sniper's bullet; one he hasn't had in a long time.

Oh shit, what happened last night?

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one_man_army April 19 2010, 05:09:33 UTC
He rolls over onto his side, trying to press his face into the pillow to hide from the sun.

"Buggeroffsun," he mumbles. "S'not time yet."

The entire bed is on rollers, and it feels like the mattress is floating on the water. He's not sure if the room is still spinning. He doesn't care. he just wants to sleep.

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trigger_man April 19 2010, 05:12:06 UTC
"Fuck," Jack mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut again and pressing his head into his pillow. "Christ, Carl, what'd we do last night?"

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