George was dimly aware that the room was spinning and pitching badly, even without opening his eyes. And opening them would surely kill him one way or another. He was most likely laying half-curled up on his side with his shoulder turned awkwardly under him, but that was all the bodily inventory he was able to do.
"Oy!" The sound split his head, and the small movement of his twitching jarred it further. "What the hell did you two get up to last night?" He carefully lifted his eyelids enough to let in a slit of light, and promptly regretted it.
"None of your business." He wasn't sure he had voiced the words out loud, but even if he hadn't, his twin didn't ask anything more. Or made any further sounds at all. Maybe he had left. George faintly registered the clammy feel of the kitchen tile under his cheek and the small breath of air caressing his naked back before launching into a new stupor.
OoO
At last he did regain full consciousness, but wasn't much happy about it. Even just laying down held the very real possibility of his stomach turning, but his shoulder was killing him, crushed between the weight of his body and the floor as it was. Slowly, very slowly, he braced one hand on the tiles and lifted his torso enough to free it, still not opening his eyes. He had tried briefly before discovering just how unhappy his shoulder was with the position, and the experience left a lot to be desired.
Well, now what? He couldn't hold himself up with one arm all day, it was already trembling. It was either roll over on his back, in which case he would choke if the movement made him puke, or sit up. Even slower than before, he rolled himself together and rocked carefully up, feeling his brain slosh and tumble around in his skull, and ended up sitting in a fetal position, his cheeks resting on his knees. His stomach seemed strangely happy with the new position, but he wasn't fooled, it would get back to him shortly.
After sitting like that for a while, with no real idea of time, he carefully opened his eyes. The sunshine bouncing off the tiles promptly blinded him, his eyes began to water, and he felt like he had swallowed a dozen live octopi.
He tried looking away, find a corner where the light didn't reach. His clothes lied scattered around and he had by this time realised he didn't have a stitch on. His shirt was a hump of blinding colour, and still moving as carefully as possible, groaning now and then, he made his way the few feet over to it. Nox was laying under it.
He poked her in the back, balancing precariously on one hand and both knees, the room hadn't stopped moving even though he had. She let out a very unwomanly fart, but didn't move. He jabbed harder and succeeded in making her roll over on her back, squint up at him and throw her arm over her eyes with a groan as the light hit her.
"We're naked," he croaked. It was possibly the least helpful thing to say, but the only he could think of.
"I'm sore," she retorted, which wasn't much more helpful, laying on the floor with a tremendous hangover tended to make you feel sore in places you didn't know you had. George was pretty sure the octopi had attacked his appendix. "Which would indicate we shagged."
"What?" he answered dumbly, too many calculations running through his head and making him even dizzier, several of them including Luna and Fred, and for some reason skeletal mice, which he at present time couldn't remember where he got from.
"Add in that we're both naked –" She didn't have time to finish the statement before his stomach turned, giving him hardly enough warning to turn away from her.