Notes: This scene is based on the RBG diary entry written by Kurenai_Tenka, which is in turn based on HamletMachine's Starfighter comic. So many references, ah!

The diary entries can be found here: archiveofourown dot org/works/546855?view_full_work=true

I'm not sure how many of these I'll end up writing, but this was fun. C:

"Dear Diary,

Too hung-over to work. Aramis made me coffee before he left and he seemed sympathetic, but I could hear him laughing after he closed the door."

It took a moment for Bazin to register that he was awake, and the pounding headache that joined this realization made him instantly regret it. He put an arm over his eyes and groaned, wondering why he had ever let Keeler convince him to take that last shot … or the one before it, or the one before that.

"You going to be alright?" his fighter asked from somewhere across the small room.

Bazin lifted his arm enough to peer out with one bleary eye and grunted in response. He couldn't remember ever suffering through a hangover this bad before. Judging from the way Aramis was dressing, it was probably time to get ready for work, but moving felt a bit out of the question. At this rate … "I don't think I'm going to go in today."

Aramis nodded, looking sympathetic. "Best to just sleep that kind of thing off. I hope you don't get in trouble."

Bazin hoped so too, but Keeler had drunk just as much; the man would have to be inhuman to be moving around with his normal energy today. Belatedly, Bazin started to nod in response, but the motion produced a wave of nausea that had him retreating further into his blanket and groaning again.

He thought he heard Aramis chuckle, but it might have been his imagination.

"Anyway," the fighter began as he laced up his boots, "there's simulation work this afternoon, so I won't be back until after dinner. Think you'll survive on your own?"

"Mmph," was the muffled reply.

There were a few more noises as Aramis finished getting ready; the clink of something heavy, and the sound of running water. Bazin's strained mind couldn't help but focus on them. Despite feeling exhausted, the heavy pressure in his temples prevented him from slipping into sleep again. Just how many shots had he taken? And what had been in them? "N'er 'rinkin' 'gain," he mumbled pathetically.

"What?" Aramis, who had just opened the door to leave, asked.

"Never drinking again," he repeated.

"Get some rest," Aramis suggested, and he sounded sincere. But as soon as Aramis was gone and the door was closed, Bazin could hear him laughing, and he knew he wasn't imagining it this time.

With not a little petulance, he decided that Aramis could go trip in the dining hall for laughing like that. Then he caught a whiff of coffee. His fighter must have made some for him before leaving. That's really thoughtful, Bazin thought, and smiled a little. He'd have to remember to-

Oh God, run, bathroom- don't puke on the floor, don't puke on the floor!