Chapter 1.

The Morning After

The light was really bright. Painfully bright. Dan was trying to remember why he'd bought light bulbs that nauseatingly cheerful. He blinked, or tried to. His eyelids seemed to be stuck. He tried to speak, and what came out was something like, "Ggnnnargghh." Dan tried an experimental movement and found, to his slight surprise, that he still had fingers. And toes. He slowly became aware of his surroundings, and immediately wished that he hadn't as his surroundings were not particularly pleasant. The bed he was lying on – It is a bed, he realized – was the color of dust and Dan was pretty sure it hadn't used to be that color. There was laundry everywhere, including – no, on his stomach, that wasn't a shirt. Too fuzzy. He squirmed slightly, and the not-shirt hissed at him. He winced. Claws, he decided vaguely. Oops. There was a faint buzzing sound. Bees, was Dan's immediate thought, but he didn't remember any bees in his flat before. What else buzzes?

"Phil," he called weakly. "When did you buy a cat?" Dan heard a scuffling noise.

"A what?" came Phil's voice. "Dan, do you remember anything from last night?"

"Um…" Dan thought. "Yes?" he lied.

"I think you bought it from a homeless person." Phil sounded actually irritated. "Also, PJ told me to tell you he isn't speaking to you."

"Oh." Dan lifted his head, waiting for his vision to focus. His head felt like a small man was hitting it repeatedly with a battering ram. "Phil, do we have bees?"

Phil opened the door a crack. "I hope not. Dan, it's eleven in the morning."

"Then what's buzzing?" Dan mumbled.

"Buzzing?" Dan flopped his hand vaguely toward the source of the buzzing. Phil sighed. "Dan, it's your phone." He snatched it up and tossed toward the bed, where it hit the cat. The cat hissed and slid under the bed like a bar of soap, digging it's claws into Dan's stomach for good measure.

"Ow!" Dan jumped. "Jesus. Sharp." He rubbed his stomach and sat up. "Holy fuck," he moaned, pressing his face into a pillow. "My head hurts. What day is it?"

"Tuesday," Phil said. "Come on, I've made breakfast."

"No," Dan slurred. "My… tongue…" he said slowly, "Feels… like… trees."

"Trees?" Phil looked at him blankly.

"Like…" Dan tried to explain. "Ughhhh," he moaned disgustedly, rolling this way and that in a feeble attempt to stand up. Phil made no move to help, although Dan was pretty sure he saw a camera flash before something metallic was whipped out of sight. He finally managed to extract himself from the bed sheets, which were trying to drag him down under the bed into a hell dimension, and, with a certain amount of wobbling, stood up. "Phil," Dan said after a moment's pause. "I'm not wearing pants."

"Then find some," Phil said irritably, turning around.

"Oh." Dan looked around his floor. "But there aren't any here."

"I know," Phil said as he walked out of the door. "They're all in the microwave."