Puppy pile

Kurt's eyes felt like sandpaper behind his closed lids, and even before he first attempted to open them he was pretty sure that even the low lighting of their apartment's scattered lamps would be too much for his eyes to be able to take in good grace. He cringed, momentarily shutting them more tightly against the dim light he could make out even with closed eyes, and then braced himself to open his eyes. His assumption that facing the light would be painful had been correct, and he flinched, squinting until his eyes adjusted enough for him to bear it more easily. His head was throbbing dully, his mouth dry, and when he attempted to clear his throat, his tongue briefly stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Coffee. Coffee was definitely in order. And not the sugary lattes or cappuccinos and Rachel and Santana seemed to prefer, but something strong enough to bring him and probably them too back from the brink of near death- or at least, what was looking to be a rather painful hangover.

It took Kurt a few more seconds to fully realize where he was, which happened to be on his back on the rug in the living room area by the coffee table. Even this realization was rather delayed in concluding in full in his thoughts, because as he tried to push himself to a sitting position, he misjudged the distance between himself and the coffee table and ended up smacking his forehead painfully on its corner, hard enough that he drew in a sharp breath and gasped out a high-pitched swear.

"Shuddup," came Santana's muffled and very groggy voice from somewhere nearby, and when the pain in Kurt's head had subsided enough for him to be able to look around to try to locate her, he saw that she was curled up with Dani in the armchair, rather awkwardly, both their legs draped partly over the armrest of one side, partly falling out towards the floor. Her face was buried in Dani's shoulder, most of the weight of her body stretched over hers, and even in his hungover state Kurt still managed to think that they must both or at least shortly would be very uncomfortable, given their twisted up positioning in such a small space after so many hours.

What time was it, anyway? Good thing it was a Saturday…it was, wasn't it?

As Kurt very slowly rolled himself away from range of the coffee table edge, then sat up, having to push off with both hands to do so, his stomach roiled, and he closed his eyes again, waiting it out, before trying to get to his feet. Once up he saw that Rachel too was sleeping or at least semi conscious nearby, sprawled across the length of their couch with one arm curled beneath her head. She definitely had gotten the most comfortable and spacious positioning of them all, and he shook his head to himself, a slightly amused, slightly annoyed smile quirking his lips, even though the slight movement was enough to make his head spin.

It was definitely going to be a long day. And what Kurt just couldn't seem to fathom, thinking back, was how the four of them had gone from "let's celebrate Rachel's role as Fanny by having a glass of wine or two to celebrate" into "let's all get so completely intoxicated that none of us could be bothered to even get ourselves to an actual bed?"

Kurt was pretty sure that however this change had come about, Santana had had something to do with it. If he thought back to it, yes, he was pretty sure he did remember her insisting that they "really" had to celebrate, that this was a "once in a life time thing" and that they definitely couldn't process it sober.

"This is not CELEBRATING," she had declared, nudging Rachel's shoulder with hers and nearly spilling both their wine glasses' contents as she did so. "Rachel got FANNY, people, let's fucking go to TOWN on her ass!"

Kurt didn't see the point, then, of pointing out to her that the phrase "Rachel got fanny" and "going to town on her ass" were rather interesting and overly sexual choices to use in the same sentence with each other when not intending sexual connotations, at least not to someone like Santana, who would no doubt see this as a challenge of sexual innuendo that would not end for the remainder of the week or until she witnessed him literally pale with horror at whatever she could come up with. Instead, he had allowed Santana to refill his glass along with everyone else's, to turn on the music and pull him and the other women forward to sing and dance as loudly and enthusiastically as they could, and when the wine was gone, he let her pull out the tequila to make some heavily spiked mixed drinks.

The night had passed in a blur, with only a few memories sticking out in Kurt's head now. He could dimly remember Rachel hanging on him and squealing, giggling and pointing and then giving a seal clap of excitement when she saw Santana straddling Dani's lap and kissing her deeply, one hand twined in Dani's hair, Dani's hand rubbing up and down Santana's back. He remembered singing a duet with Rachel, their faces inches apart as they mimed singing into imaginary microphones, and Santana hollering cheers and catcalls before bursting into laughter, falling into Dani for support to the side of them. He remembered Rachel loudly teasing Santana about her "muffin" and Dani laughing so hard she had to grab the kitchen counter to catch herself from falling, Santana throwing a couch cushion at Rachel that missed her entirely and instead hit Kurt in the face. He was pretty sure that at one point all four had sung together, arms slung around each other's shoulders, and when he looked back at the three girls and saw their hair messily falling out of half completed braids, he remembered their being a braiding hair line that he had ended up in on somehow too, and that Santana had somehow managed to wrangle into being one of the braidees but not a braider at the front of the line. And he definitely remembered Rachel announcing at the top of her voice, towards the end of night, that they were all her BEST FRIENDS EVER before tackle hugging them almost to the floor- which had set Santana off into tears and Dani into yet another peal of giggling until she was gasping for breath.

That was about all he remembered of the night, but he guessed it was enough. Somehow, Santana's idea of "hardcore celebrating" had turned into something further resembling "preteen slumber party," but he had enough of a headache without being foolish enough to point that out to her.

As he stumbled towards the kitchen, Kurt began to line up coffee mugs, creamer, sugar, and bottles of water on the living room coffee table, each movement slow and requiring deliberation of thought, before he started the coffee maker as well. After further thought he set out Ibuprofen, taking a few himself first, a trash can, a chapstick, and ponytail holders too, because he knew one thing he wouldn't be doing was holding girls' hair back if they woke up sick. He just wasn't moving fast enough to get there in time.

By the time the coffee was brewing and he had slumped onto a chair at the kitchen table, nursing a bottle of water in both hands, Kurt could hear someone stirring in the living room area. When the first groan was audible, he mumbled towards the table top, "All necessary supplies are within arms' reach in front of you. I have gone above and beyond the call of roommate duty. Please don't speak to me for another two hours now."

"Shuddup," came another growl that sounded like a very hoarse Santana before the first suspicious gasping, swallowing breaths began, and Kurt put his head down on the table, trying not to envision what might be next to come. He was too far away and not at all interested in assisting anyone else, and he definitely wasn't up for needing to sprint anywhere for his own sake either.

It was on the tip of his tongue to mention to Santana that without her insistence on "real celebrating," none of them would have been in this boat at all, but he stopped himself when he heard her begin to gag and the scrambling limbs of her trying to shove Dani away from her in time. And when Rachel's voice joined in, somehow in spite of everything still alert and aware enough for her to be capable of asking Santana anxiously if she was sure it was all in the trash can and not on the floor or furniture, Kurt just kept his head down, suppressing a groan of his own. Best friends ever they might be, but right about now he could happily go the rest of the day without seeing a single one of them.