Note: Hey all! I know this is technically the Advent Drabblender and all the other stories are Christmas themed, but I owed Charlie Chaplin 2 a story featuring Nephrite & Kunzite and I figured sliding it in here as a Valentine's Day bonus drabble would be acceptable. Takes place in the same Drabblender-verse as the other stories. Hope you dig it!

Who: Kunzite, Nephrite
When: Modern
Prompt: Valentine's Day Hangover

"Dude." The voice rang across the misty haze of his barely conscious mind like a hammer striking an anvil, "You up?"

"Mmmrff…" was the dude's reply.

"Wake up." The cheerful if gruff voice ordered, "I got breakfast."

Ken's eyes wearily slid open and the intrusion of light nearly put him down for the count. He blinked and blinked and blinked again as the engine of gray matter that powered his exhausted body sputtered into gear.

"Why?" he groaned accusatorily.

"Here." Neil shoved a white Styrofoam carryout container in front his companion's scowling face, "It's biscuits & gravy."

"Get that garbage away from me." Ken denied what any other man in his position would have considered heavenly manna in his desert of a hangover, "Water."

"Water takes too long." Neil argued, "And it won't help the headache like this will."

"I don't have a headache." Ken told him and dragged a filthy hand across his stubbled face.

"You just woke up. It'll take, oh…" Neil checked the time on his phone, "Give it another thirty seconds for the neurons to wake up screaming."

"At least you're an expert at something." Ken dismissed him.

"It's a proven fact that the thicker and greasier the meal the greater the alcohol absorption." Neil countered and jostled the container again, "Eat."

"I don't think that's how it works." Ken voiced his opinion but nevertheless took the container, head just now beginning to pound.

"It's got something to do with sugars and electrolytes and ketones." Neil told him and plopped down beside his suffering companion.

"Do you even know what ketones are?' Ken inquired.

"It's the non-technical term for when you play a note on a piano." Neil replied evenly.

"Probably." Ken agreed and eyed the heap of grayish sludge in the box savoring the decadent scent without betraying it to Neil.

"Fork?" Neil offered the white utensil from the inside pocket of his coat.

"It looks used." Ken turned his nose up at it.

"So do you." Neil chided and Ken reluctantly accepted the fork.

For several long moments and several unbecoming mouthfuls the two men sat in silence. Or as silent as a hung over, half-starved titan of a man wolfing down a whole helping of sausage gravy and biscuits could be.

"Coffee." Ken suddenly demanded and handed Neil the empty container.

"I didn't get any, sorry." He apologized sheepishly.

"What the hell…" Ken complained and patted down his person for something – anything to drink. Neil's hand once again appeared in front of him presenting a brushed silver flask.

"Are you damaged?" Ken immediately turned it down and his complexion soured with a green hue.

"Hair of the dog."

"Stop." Ken ordered and shielded his eyes.

"Suit yourself." Neil shrugged and took a slug from the flask, "Oh sister whiskey how far we've come together."

"Why didn't you stop me?" Ken demanded and leaned forward with a groan; the dense breakfast struggled to settle a stomach that until recently contained what he assumed was pure ethanol.

"I did." Neil defended.

"Bullshit." He glared at him through one angry sliver of an eye.

"I stopped you after three beers just like you said." Neil reminded him, "At seven-fucking-thirty before the band even started playing."

"There was a band?" Ken shook his head and immediately regretted the motion.

"Oh yeah there was a band." Neil whistled, "And you were their biggest fan."

"What?" Ken's mind was blank. For a man with an eidetic memory that was… worrisome.

"Danced all night." Neil recalled fondly.

"I did not." Ken straightened considerably a shiver ran down his spine.

"Dude, you were practically on the stage with them." Neil laughed, "The bartender comped your tab because he thought you were part of the group."

"I don't…" Ken trailed off.

"And then of course there's the tattoo…"

"I DIDN'T?!" Ken jerked up in his seat and his hands wildly traced from his shoulders down to his calves as Neil howled with laughter.

"No, you didn't." he choked, "Relax."

"Bastard." Ken settled back down in his seat and then resumed his hunched-over position.

Neil leaned over and whispered in one ear past a layer of stringy, sweat-stained white hair, "But you did dance."

"How did you let this happen?" Ken groaned, "I trusted you."

"I did stop you, Ken." Neil was firm.

"And then what?" Ken led the question.

"And then I saw you sitting in the corner like a sad sack, sober and depressed." Neil revealed.

"I am not a sad sa—"

"Because once again you're spending Valentine's Day alone."

"By choice, so—"

"And I said, "Ken old buddy, old pal, why the long face?""

"Neil…"

"Has the Goddess of Love and Beauty left you flying solo yet again?"

"That's none of your—"

"I said, "She warned you that she'd be out of town a lot, especially around the holidays."

"I know…"

"And that's the price you pay for dating a girl who spent her whole life dreaming of being an idol."

"I don't regret—"

"So I asked, "Ken, why don't you come join me at the bar and we'll chase away those blues with some browns?"

Ken paused for a moment, mouth open expecting his next words to be interrupted yet again, "… And?"

"And you said," Neil smiled proudly, "Why not?"

Ken snorted to himself and Neil registered the derisive noise as laughter. The older man finally straightened from his slump and the color slowly began to return to his face. Even disheveled from a night of hard drinking Neil had to admit that his fellow Shitennou's commanding presence had not diminished. His gunmetal gray eyes were foggy with residual grogginess, but no less intense.

"If it's any consolation to your weary mind, she gave her consent." Neil reported.

"What?"

"Minako." His companion replied and for the first time Ken noted he was wearing a thick winter coat and a wooly scarf which partially obscured his torrent of bourbon colored hair, "She gave us her blessing."

"Why would tell her?" Ken complained and threatened to slump into his man-pretzel position again.

"So it wouldn't come as a surprise if you ended up in the hospital or a drunk tank." Neil admitted, "And to let her know that you were still thinking about her on Valentine's Day."

"By getting shitfaced with you?" Ken spat.

"By having a night out with your best friend, content that the love of your life is pursuing her dreams. And even though you hate being separated, you're such a supportive rock of a man that you soldier through with silent endurance and would never want to her to worry that you were sad and can't function properly without her."

God damn it. Ken thought to himself. Neil was a bastard, but damn it if he wasn't an insightful bastard.

"You don't have to thank me." Neil reminded him.

"I won't." Ken agreed.

"I mean, it wouldn't hurt…" Neil nudged him, "You don't want to miss your chance."

"What time is it?" Ken ignored him.

"Uh, it's like… midnight?" Neil guessed and rooted around in his pocket for his phone.

"Midnight?" Ken gasped, "How long was I out?!"

"Well there were a few time zone changes…" Neil confessed, "I'm not sure."

"Time zones?" Ken asked breathlessly.

He finally stopped and took in his surroundings. They were seated in a mostly deserted concourse. The giant windows opened towards the flashing lights of an airport and the bright skyline of an unfamiliar, bustling city beyond. The two or three other travelers in the terminal ignored them completely and several of them were asleep.

"Where the hell are we?" Ken demanded.

"Philadelphia." Neil answered casually.

"PHILADELPHIA?!" Ken thundered. One of the other travelers in the terminal awoke with a start at the force of his voice.

"Dude, calm down." Neil tried to assuage him.

"Why the hell are we in America?!" Ken roared.

"Because YOU." Neil faced him down with his own not inconsiderable volume, "Wanted a CHEESESTEAK."

"A- a… cheesesteak?" Ken stuttered, all semblance of order and normalcy drained from his brain.

"You said you never had one before." Neil shrugged honestly.

"You flew us all the way to America for a sandwich?" Ken shook his head in disbelief. Neil was honestly concerned his old friend was about to break down in tears.

"A cheesesteak." Neil corrected. "Don't let them hear you call it a mere sandwich."

"How much?" Ken seethed.

"I don't know, you've got Geno's or you've got Pat's and—" Neil began.

"How much." Ken hissed through gritted teeth, "Did this cost me?"

"I put it on my card you giant baby." Neil talked him down, "Where's your sense of adventure, man?"

"Apparently I left it in Tokyo along with your better sense." Ken shifted his weight slightly away from Neil.

"Just think of how excited Minako will be when she comes home and tells you all about her trip to London!" Neil encouraged him, "You'll have a story of your own for once!"

"Or she'll see that story on the news after I murder you for incompetence." Ken deadpanned.

"Don't be a bitch." Neil ordered and stood up, "It's okay to be excited for yourself for a change."

"Can you give me one good reason why you thought this was a good idea?" Ken asked exasperated.

Neil licked his lips and grinned wide with satisfaction, "Why not?"

At then Ken could only sigh and stood to join his friend, unsteadily at first thanks to the hangover and weakness of an oncoming breakfast coma. Neil reached out to steady him and Ken surveyed his immediate area for… something. Anything.

"Luggage?" he asked.

"What for?" Neil wondered, "We're here for cheesesteak."

"You—" Ken was ready to boil over with rage, but swallowed it bitterly instead. Neil just continued grinning like an idiot and finally he relented, "Fine."

"That's the spirit!" Neil laughed and walloped him in the arm. Painfully.

"So." Ken grumbled if only to keep up the façade of his annoyance, "Pat's or Geno's?"

That argument lasted until they touched down again in Tokyo twenty four hours and two cheesesteaks apiece later.