Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter Three
Pain exploded behind his eyes the second sleep began to leave him. Brain winced, his eyes twitching, but remaining stubbornly closed. He grasped his covers, holding them to his body and rolled into the pillow that was laid out beside him. The movement caused a painful objection and he groaned in response. He'd had hangovers before, more than he could count, so he was no stranger to the prolonged pain of a night of too much Beam, but fuck this was ridiculous.
With some reluctance, he sat up and held his head, wincing at the movement, and planned to call for some aspirin. He peered at the room through squinting eyes, and nearly went into cardiac arrest on the spot.
The villa was trashed. Sofas had been ripped up, the cushioning spread across various parts of the hotel room and knocked onto there backs – one of the recliners had no legs at all. Broken bottles and condom wrappers were buried in the ashes of the fire place catching the rays of sunlight that shone through the window, where the curtain had been yanked down. Bedroom doors were wide open, trails of silk sheets, pillows (some without their cases) and mattresses made there way into the living room. One of the bathroom doors had been pulled off its hinges and a small puddle of water was leading out of it.
There was only one thing Brian could say: "Shit!"
He stood up quickly, despite the massive explosion of agony in his head, and gazed around, wide eyed and disbelieving. He stepped off the makeshift bed close to the door and kicked Michael awake as he moved further into the room to access the extensive damage.
Michael was sleeping against one of the overturned sofas and groaned in annoyance (and pain) at the insistent kicking. He tried to roll away, into the softness of his bed, and frowned when all he found was cold, hard marble.
"Get the fuck up Mikey," Brain ordered firmly, a hint of panic seeping into his voice.
Michael cracked one eye open. "Brian...what's wrong?" he sat up too quickly and clutched his head, "Ah fuck, that hurt!"
"What's wrong? What's wrong?" he repeated bitterly, "It's this room – that's what's fucking wrong!"
"What are you talking..." Michael trailed off, his mouth agape as he glanced around the now totalled room. "Shit...what the fuck happened here?"
"No fucking clue," Brian answered, running his hand through his hair, "They have my card on file downstairs...fuck!"
Both men winced when they heard a resounding thump that echoed loudly through their heads. They saw pillows being moved and sheets slipping as a half-dazed Emmett stumbled out of one of the bedrooms. He held out his hands to steady himself and glanced around the room.
"...What the fuck happened in here?"
"Now that's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Brian paused for a minute. "Did you get into a fight or something, Honeycutt? You look terrible."
Emmett, not even objecting to the use of his last name, raised a hand to his face and winced instantly at the feathered touch. He cursed loudly.
Michael scratched the back of his neck, a pained expression on his face. "Oh man, I can't remember anything from last night – expect did we drink champagne?"
"Yeah, me neither," Brian admitted, frustrated, before cursing once more.
"Where's Teddy?" Emmett wondered aloud, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern and confusion, "and Lindsey?"
"...I have no fucking clue," Brian answered.
"They have to be somewhere in this mess," Michael reasoned.
With a mutual groan of exasperation, the three men took (careful and hesitant) steps to different crevasse of the room, gingerly moving pillows and curtains in their search.
Emmett waddled through the cold, puddle of water to peer into the bathroom searchingly. The shower curtain had been pulled from the rail and was now covering a slumped form. Ted was pushed against one side of the ceramic bath, facing away from Emmett, and there was no indication he was waking up anytime soon. For one fearful, over-dramatic movement, the flamboyant man thought his friend was dead – until he snored loudly and curled up, drawing his knees to just under his chin.
Emmett let out a breath of relief before calling out "I found Ted", and approaching the bathtub. He gently shook the men's arched shoulder, trying for a softer wake-up call than any of the others received.
"Teddy, sweetie...time to get up now..." he softly encouraged, shaking him persistently. His friend groaned in objection but did not move. He swallowed nervously, a sense of panic in his voice as he started to come out of his sleep-induced daze and realised how little he remembered of the night before. "Come on Ted, time to wake up!"
"What the fuck happened to the shower curtain?" Brian wondered.
"Maybe Ted knows," Michael answered hopefully, ducking under Brian's arm that was positioned on the door frame, "Is he awake yet?"
"He will be," Emmett assured before he violently returned to shaking his closest friend awake, suddenly desperate to know what had happened – if he could remember anything at all.
"All right...all right!" Ted's voice broke the silence. It was quiet at first but seemed to increase in volume as he returned from the land of dreams. He began to turn in his place so he could face the rest of the room, "I'm up now...you can relax..."
Emmett's eyes widened in shock, both his hands moving to cover his mouth. Michael gapped at him, unable to move or speak. Brian simple burst out laughing.
Ted looked around him in confusion. "Why am I in a bath tub? Why am I in my underwear?" he looked up at his friends, "What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?"
"You could say that Theodore," Brian chuckled, feeling lighter than he had before.
Ted moved shakily onto his own two feet and Michael recovered enough to help his friend out of the bath so he didn't slip. He stumbled out of the comic lover's grasp and made his way over to the bathroom mirror (probably the only thing that remained untouched).
"Holy shit!" he cursed loudly.
In a thick, inked line, a tribal pattern swirled around his right eye. It framed the dark brown of his eyes perfectly. The edges closest to his eye were soft curves, becoming sharp and jagged the further away it was. Ted let out an unmanly squeak of panic and began running water, frantically pawing at his flesh almost desperately.
"This is a real tattoo!" he cried out, his eyes wide as he turned back to his friends, "A real fucking tattoo! What the fuck happened?"
Brian sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I can't remember anything from last night..."
"Can you?" Emmett asked hopefully.
"Well, obviously not," Ted snapped.
"Okay, all of us are fucking clueless," Michael interrupted, stopping any further arguments, "S where is Lindsey?"
"You guys didn't fin her?" Emmett questioned, straightening up and looking worried.
"Nope...I have no idea where she is," Michael answered with a sigh.
"Have you tried calling her cell?" Ted suggested.
"Yeah, it just went straight to voice mail."
"Okay, everyone needs to relax. Lindsey's a big girl – she can take care of herself. She probably went down for breakfast or something." Brian paused to eye Ted, "Find some trousers Theodore, and let's go."
The four men scrambled over piles of broken furniture and bedding, stopping every once and awhile when a shoe or a pair of trousers was found. They had just made it on the stable ground by the main door when Michael paused, glancing around him confused.
"Did you guys hear that?" he wondered.
"Hear what?"
Somewhere in the distance, a muffled cry was heard.
"So what? Someone in the hotel has a baby?" Brian shrugged, "We have to find Lindsey."
"I'm not so sure..."
Michael had an absent-minded look on his face as he slowly made his way over to what once was a kitchen. He stood up in front of the cabinets, listening, before he opened out of the doors.
"...Holy shit, there's a baby in here..."
"Excuse me, there's a what?" Emmett gapped.
Carefully, Michael reached up and removed a baby carrier – and a baby – from within the confines. The child whimpered quietly, staring up at Michael with wide dark eyes.
"There was a baby in a cabinet..." Ted repeated, "How the fuck did we get a baby?"
"We are so going to Vegas jail," Emmett fanned himself, seeming to be on the verge of hyperventilation.
Brian leant against a wall for support.
THEHANGOVERQAFSTYLE
"Come on, just eat the baby food," Michael desperately tried to encourage the child to take a bite, the spoon remained poised in the air with a generous helping of sludge that was supposed to be apricots and baby rice.
It took all of five minutes to calm down about finding a possible missing child in their villa and to make their way down to the breakfast buffet. Emmett decided to ask around the hotel to find out if anyone had seen Lindsey whilst Brian charmed some food for the baby - now dubbed Jim, by Brian – from some unsuspecting waitress.
"Look, its good for you," Michael ate the food himself and had to fight a grimace, "Now I know why they feed this shit to people who can't talk..."
"You could try pretending the spoon's an aeroplane or a rocket ship or something?" Ted suggested, amused, his hand conveniently placed over the design inked onto his skin.
Michael looked unconvinced. "Do you really think that would work?"
"Rocket ship always worked with Gus," Brian shrugged, "Why not?"
He still seemed unconvinced for a moment before sighing in defeat. Raising another spoonful to Jim's mouth, he said loudly "here comes the rocket" and made over exaggerated engine noises, doing a figure of eight with the spoon. Jim laughed, opening his mouth willingly for food. Michael beamed proudly.
Emmett dropped with a huff into the free chair, an expression of reassignment on his bruised face. "I've looked everywhere. Lobby, Pool, Reception, the kitchen's, even that security booth we past. No one has seen or heard about anyone fitting Lindsey's description." He groaned, "We are so fucking screwed..."
"Where could she have gone?" Michael wondered, concerned for his friend. A look of panic came to his face, his skin paling, "What the hell are we supposed to tell Mel?"
"Okay, everyone needs to calm down..." Brian instructed firmly.
"Ah, why don't we try retracing our steps?" Ted suggested.
"That would be great Teddy, except we can't remember anything from last night, let alone where to start," Emmett countered.
"Ah, um, check your pockets. Maybe we'll find some kind of clue," he continued, as he began to frantically pat down his pockets.
"For once those detective television shows have paid off for you, Theodore," Brain snarked with a grin, complying with the request. As he pulled out random things from his pockets, he placed them on the table surface in front of him. "Ah, I have a…condom wrapper, condom wrapper, ah, another condom wrapper, and a card for some place called Boy Toy – apparently, we went to a strip club gentlemen."
"I have a, ah, receipt for the Hard Rock Café, it says we were there at midnight last night."
"I have a card for a casino called, um, Weeping Dragon, and a couple of coupons off sex toys from any local 'Vibrate' store."
"I have a receipt from the hotel saying we arrived at 5:55am."
"Shit, we drove last night?" Brian cursed.
Emmett groaned and raised a hand to run through his short hair. Ted's eyes flashed in recognition for a second before he reached out, grasping his friend's wrist just as it was being brought back down to rest on the table. He peered at it curiously.
"You were in hospital," he stated.
"What?"
"Are you okay?" Michael questioned.
"Yes, I'm fine," Emmett snapped before standing up, spinning on his heel and walking away in his customary overdramatic fashion.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"To, um, Allegheny Hospital," Emmett called, reading from the band on his wrist, "You wanted a clue. I think this is a good place to start."
Brian smirked. "Seems we're playing a game of 'Follow the Queen'."
