A/N: Well, this pair was suggested by SoulxMakaLover37... I was happy for the suggestion, though I do apologize for the slight crack of it all... I also apologize for the fact that the pair suggested don't interact very much… I will tell everyone, however, that this particular one shot does involve the aftermath of too much liquor, just in case that's not really your thing. I thought I'd let you guys know. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater or either of the references mentioned within this one shot.

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29. Crazy Whiskey and Garlic

Whiskey Hits Like A Girl

His head was a disaster and every little noise and glimmer of light was an imposter.

Black Star cracked an eye open, hissing at the flickering light that burned its way through his retinas. His back hurt and when he tried turning onto his side, his entire arm unfolded beneath him like a failed paper crane.

"Son of a bitch," Black Star growled, rolling over and gently pushing himself onto his knees. He looked around, flinching away from the dysfunctional lightbulb and trying to recognize his surroundings. The walls were an ugly gray with an uneven stitching pattern marked here and there. A desk sat in the corner, piled high with books and papers, and beside him was a coffee table. It took him a moment to realize he was sitting on an old, dusty couch which also had stitching haphazardly sewed into the cushions.

The assassin stretched his arms above his head and upon hearing a promising snap, rolled his neck a little easier before his mind came to a screeching halt. Stitches. Black Star eyed the sad furniture he was on and then the room for a second time, cursing the effects of the alcohol that hindered his train of thought. Stitches obviously meant Professor Stein's laboratory, so why in the name of Death—No, he probably shouldn't be thinking of 'death' when in Stein's funhouse of cruelty and sharp things.

Black Star slowly rose into a crouch, eyeing each part of the room for any sign of the mad scientist, but the professor appeared to be out. Black Star prayed it wasn't to gather more sedatives or a sharper scalpel. What was he doing in Stein's laboratory in the first place?

This had the gears in the assassin's mind turning, however the whiskey stuck like gum and they didn't move as efficiently. Swearing again, Black Star clutched his head in an attempt to gather his thoughts. What had happened the night before? He didn't remember. Did he even remember getting up yesterday morning?

The blue-haired meister peeked between his fingers as a thought struck him. Actually, it was a lack of memory that struck him. He didn't remember much about the day before, or anything from before for that matter. What had he been doing with his life lately?

Asura.

Black Star perked up at that, happy to have remembered something. That's right. We defeated Asura on the moon. That was… Gah, how long ago was that? Damn, this just made the history of hangovers...

Unless it isn't a hangover.

Black Star narrowed his eyes as an eery thought crept into his brain, snuggling close to his rational thinking where it proceeded to ferment. Not a hangover? What else would this be?

An interesting experiment of the good Professor Stein. You're only a few hours old. You're actually an experiment he's been cooking up for the last three years. An artificial human being with artificial memories.

And an artificial hangover? Black Star inquired, raising a skeptical eyebrow. He was talking to this strange voice in his head... why?

No, it's just the effects of you being an inanimate corpse for so long without stolen blood, organs, and that jolt of electricity to get you to move.

Black Star blinked, about to reply when a second, higher voice interrupted him.

Stop freaking him out. He didn't start off as a corpse, Rob.

Oh, yeah? Then what did he start out as?

He started out as a crow, obviously. The good Professor Stein was able to do some tampering and got him a human body. Just wait. He's going to go 'Caw! Caw!' in a moment or two.

Alright, hold on for a second! Black Star cried out mentally, raising his arms as thought warding off the strange voices. Why are there voices—Who? Who is talking inside my head?

It's cool. The first voice murmured in a soothing voice. We don't want trouble. We're all friends here.

Black Star wasn't so sure, but then again, he didn't want to have to convince himself to trust the voices in his head. He didn't want to address the voices in his head. However, he was beginning to seriously ponder the ramblings within, though he supposed that was the result of letting his brain marinate in whiskey all night. The thought of being an artificial human, whether originally a corpse or a crow... It was ridiculous, wasn't it? Although how many 'memories' did he have of things being ridiculous? He once helped shoot a flying whale from the sky. Being a fake human wasn't far off the mark when it came to the Insane Scale.

Gods, look at the wheels turn in his head! A new voice marveled as it joined the first two. What do you guys think? Let him mull everything over? What if he passes out?

We'll pick up the pieces. The second voice mused and Black Star swore he could hear it smile.

Well, I assume it won't be long now before he nosedives out that window... John, go get the shovel from my pack.

Black Star blinked in alarm, unable to fathom what he was hearing. The room he was in didn't even have a window.

"Yeah, like that's the problem," the assassin growled to himself, willing the pounding headache to die away. It seemed to have gotten worse within the last five seconds.

John! The first voice in his head hissed. I didn't tell you to start digging into his cerebellum, did I? What if his headache gets worse?

Worse than this? Inquired the third voice. That's impossible.

Black Star wound his fingers into his hair, exhaling in pain and shaking his head in attempt to cast aside the voices. Focus! Focus! You're real.

You're not real.

You have friends and ambitions! You're going to surpass God!

Keep telling yourself that.

Stop talking to yourself! Stop talking to the voices! They aren't real!

Just. Like. You.

"Arrggh!" Black Star released a high pitched wail, prepared to throw himself to the ground and bash his head against the concrete when he heard someone in the doorway. With bloodshot eyes, he turned his attention to the figure as his body prepared for either fight or flight.

"Black Star?" Stein mumbled, looking over the distraught boy. "Are you doing alright?"

"Professor Stein?" Black Star asked in disbelief, noticing the voices in his head had gone quiet. "Why am I... I mean how...?"

"I say the next time you're attending a New Year's party, you find someone to take you home, hmm?" Stein inquired, stepping over to the desk and grabbing a pot of coffee that had been balanced precariously on the corner. Pouring the steaming liquid into a mug, he came to stand beside the couch and handed it to Black Star.

The assassin hesitantly sniffed the dark substance before taking a tentative sip. It didn't taste real funky, so he assumed it was safe enough. Taking a long drink, Black Star glanced up at Stein who was watching emotionlessly.

"So... um... How did I wind up here?" the meister inquired, wrapping his fingers around the ceramic mug.

"I don't know. You must have left whatever party you were at, filled to the brim with alcohol, and the next thing I knew, I was opening the door and you had thrown yourself inside. You turned and slammed the door shut, barricading it with your own body before screaming something about 'King's Landing falling to the blonde shit' or something along those lines." Stein's eyes narrowed before he finished. "You then tossed up a good deal of alcohol on my doormat before flopping over like a deflated balloon."

"Oh," Black Star began, awkwardly running a hand through his messy hair. "Sorry, I guess."

"Mm, indeed. I really liked that doormat."

Black Star took another drink of coffee, swallowing harshly before muttering, "I guess I'm human, then. Apparently, the hangover of hangovers gives you multiple theories about being artificial."

Stein raised a curious eyebrow but didn't question the assassin, simply turning around and saying, "Should I call Tsubaki to come and get you? I'm sure she's feeling very much like the dog sitter who accidentally left the front door wide open and now she's fretting about speeding cars and bigger dogs."

Black Star glowered at the man and set down his mug of coffee, replying in a dry tone, "Yeah, that'd be great."

"And in the future, when you decide to drink away the old year and welcome the new one in a whiskey induced stupor—"

"I'll get someone to supervise," Black Star interrupted with the wave of his hand.

"I was going to suggest you write down these multiple theories about second guessing your entire existence," Stein replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "It sounds like your subconscious has a few interesting ideas."

Black Star released a groan and fell against the side of the couch, resting an arm over his eyes and listening as Stein retreated to make a phone call to his weapon partner.

"Last time," the assassin snorted, rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm. "Last time we kick off the old year with booze and a Game of Thrones marathon."

That New Year's party was, of course, not going to be anything compared to the next one, for the tequila and gin would punch a little harder and Supernatural looked funnier through the eyes of drunken individuals.

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A/N: Okay, that did not turn out like I expected it to... Originally, it began with Black Star after a New Year's party and AutumnMobile12 suggested he should wake up in Stein's laboratory and begin second guessing his existence. That's all it was until it was then suggested he have multiple voices in his head (Jon, Robb, and Bran) before he figures everything out. I don't own Game of Thrones or Supernatural, although, yes, when Black Star said 'blonde shit', I agree with that wholeheartedly.