Lysander wakes with an ache in his head. He tries to sit up but when he does a wave of pain rushes through him and his vision blurs. He can't see well but he can tell he's been sleeping on the couch.

He hears Castiel approach and every footstep reverberates inside his skull with a steady, painful rhythm.

"Good morning beautiful"

Lysander can't see, his hands are pressed against his eyes trying to keep the light from burning, but he can bet Castiel has a know-it-all grin right now.

"I'm dying," Lysander says, his dry mouth barely letting the words out.

"I figured," Castiel says, placing a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.

Lysander can barely manage a sound but he coughs out thanks and his pure relief at seeing the glass before him is clear enough on his face. Before he can take a drink, Castiel hands him a painkiller which he gratefully accepts and swallows down with a mouthful of water.

Lysander wipes his mouth dry. "Did I make a fool of myself last night?"

Castiel shakes his head. "No, you were fine. But your snoring this morning was offensive."

"Sorry," Lysander lies back down, the room spinning as he does, and throws an arm over his head to hide from the light. "Why did I drink tequila? I'm not supposed to drink tequila."

A guest had brought tequila last, who knows who, and even though previous experience has thought him a harsh lesson that it's not to be messed with, he still makes the same poor decisions, prioritising short term enjoyment over long term misery.

"Because you're an idiot."

"Rub it in why don't you."

"But you're my idiot." Castiel takes Lysander's arm away from his face, taking his hand in his, and places a chaste kiss on Lysander's forehead.