Waking Up in Vegas

by livinglovely

"Sam," he slurs as his right hand fingers his ninth shot of tequila, "of all people, I never saw you as the marrying type." Sam laughs as she downs her shot without skipping a beat, her diamond engagement ring glistening under the dim light of the hotel bar; her eyes twinkle with mischief, "is that a dare, Benson?" Rated T for now.

1. Prologue

BuzzBuzzBuzz.

The incessant buzzing of a cell phone finally reaches the conscious of the blonde and Samantha Puckett's tangle of blonde curls stirs slightly. She's not a great fan of moving, though, because her head is pounding and the pillow her cheek is resting upon is very comfortable. In fact, it's very comfortable and flesh-like.

At that realization Sam's eyes pop open. As soon as the initial pounding wave of her hangover subsides and her vision clears, she begins taking in her surroundings. She registers the fact that she is in a fancy hotel room with a nice view of the city of Las Vegas. She and her warm pillow are resting upon a King-sized bed with red sheets and a heart-shaped headboard, the honeymoon special. She groans. Clothes, rose petals, and empty bottles of alcohol are strewn all over the crimson carpet of the room. The sheer amount of desire-red in the room makes her want to vomit, but the massive hangover doesn't help, either. There is a room service tray next to the wall filled with the remnants of strawberries and whipped cream. As she reaches to touch her matted curls, she realizes that the whipped cream is also leftover in her hair.

Sam's head is resting upon the very soft pillow of a man's shirtless chest, which rises softly as he snores. His face is covered by a pillow, but tufts of soft brown hair stick out wildly, and the pieces of last night start to assemble. Vegas. Her bachelorette party. A sketchy little chapel. As she looks down at her own form, she realizes that she is naked aside from a gold ring on the ring finger of her right hand and the tangle of sheets that lazily cover her and the mystery man.

The gravity of the situation sets in and Sam clenches her jaw as she slowly removes the pillow from the man's face. She clamps her eyes shut and slowly begins to open them when the pillow is in her grasp. Freddie Benson, peacefully snoring, comes into view. She takes him in from face to wedding band-adorned right hand to naked waist, willing herself not to panic and formulating a plan of escape and denial in her head.

Before she can make a run for it, her attention is diverted to the cell phone laying on the floor near the bed. For what she assumes to be the millionth time, Sam's phone buzzes and she walks and grabs it from the floor, not yet ready to face the reality of the situation.

5 missed calls, 7 unread text messages. The most recent:

Carly: Sam! Where are you? The wedding starts in 30 MINUTES!

Today is the day of Sam's wedding, and Freddie Benson is most certainly not the groom.

Oh shit.