Hey, folks. This is my first venture into writing FanFiction for The Rookie, LOOSELY based off the Parmalee song of the same name. With that in mind, ALLONS-Y!
Tim Bradford was never one to throw a rager. He thought they were pointless, a good way to lose property, and an even better way to spend a night in the drunk tank.
So when he woke up one Sunday morning with a hangover that would kill a horse, he started asking himself questions.
'Oh, my head is killing me,' he thought, keeping his eyes firmly shut. 'Wait. Whose ass is pressed up against me? Why am I naked?' He opened his eyes slightly to see a mess of brown hair curled up next to him. 'Please don't be who I think you are.' He gently moved some of the hair and saw an all-too-familiar neck tattoo. His eyes bolted open, and first words of the day woke up everyone on the block.
"OH, FUCK!" He scrambled out of bed as fast as humanly possible. No sooner did his feet hit the floor than Lucy started to stir.
"Wuzgoinon?" She asked, keeping her eyes firmly shut.
"Uh..." Tim made a quick grab for his shorts and threw them on before Lucy turned his way, which was lucky, because her next words mirrored Tim's from earlier.
"Oh, FUCK!"
Tim nodded. "Yeah. Do you have any memory of what happened last night?"
"Wait. You're blaming me for this?!"
"I'm blaming both of us! It takes two for what we did, ya know!"
"You don't even know if we actually did anything!"
Tim gave Lucy one of his famous "Shut up and let me think" looks. "Right. We were both drunk. We need to retrace our steps from last night. I don't remember shit after midnight."
Lucy chuckled. "I can't help you. I don't remember much after midnight either."
"Goddamn it. We might need some help then. But first things first. I need coffee."
"That sounds like a good idea."
Tim started out of his room and made his way downstairs, and for the second time in less than fifteen minutes, uttered a four-letter word.
"What the FUCK?"
Passed out on his couch, in somewhat of a compromising position, were Bailey and Nolan, that latter of whom still had a red Solo Cup in her hand. After checking both for a pulse, he trudged to his kitchen, muttering more four-letter words as he went. After starting the coffee, his eyes fell to a box on the counter. Praying that the universe was on his side, he opened the box. Half a pizza sat, uneaten. He inwardly celebrated and devoured half a slice in one bite. He was so happy that he barely noticed Lucy had made her way into the kitchen. Tim pointed to the open pizza box and Lucy dove in. Unfortunately, the timer on Tim's coffee pot went off, jarring Nolan and Bailey from their slumber.
Pouring a cup for him as well as Lucy, Tim took the opportunity to yell across the room. "Good morning, sleepyheads!"
Nolan groaned in response while Bailey offered up a one-finger-salute.
"What happened last night?" Bailey dislodged herself from her fiance and gingerly made her way toward the smell of coffee, pouring herself and Nolan a cup.
"I was hoping you knew," Tim replied. "Lucy and I can't remember shit."
"Well," Bailey arched an eyebrow. "Based on the facts that you're calling her 'Lucy" instead of 'Chen,' your shirt's on backwards, and Lucy is wearing one of your shirts, I'm guessing that you two finally had sex."
Tim and Lucy exchanged a glance and they saw the other's face turning red. Tim was too stunned to speak. Lucy, however, was still on a mission.
"So what happened before Tim and I... Well, you know?"
"Neither of you remember?" Bailey was flabbergasted as both Tim and Lucy shook their heads.
Nolan had made his way over to the kitchen at this point, grabbing the coffee that Bailey offered him. "What did I miss?"
"They boned," Bailey replied. "Only neither of them remembers what happened last night. And I don't remember much either."
"Let's take a look around," Nolan replied. He walked back over to the coffee table, where sat, "Cards Against Humanity, tequila, and four shot glasses with salt and limes."
"So we made Cards Against Humanity a drinking game?" Lucy asked.
"Like most of America, I'm sure," Tim replied. "And why does my dining room table look like it was set up for Beer Pong?"
"That was the girls," Nolan replied. "They got competitive after Cards Against Humanity."
"Uh-huh. Next you're going to tell me that you and I were doing keg-stands, or that Smitty is passed out in my backyard."
Nolan shook his head. "Oh, it's much worse. Lucy and Bailey tied at Beer Pong and started going shot for shot."
"Oh, fuck," Lucy muttered, looking mortified. Tim, however, was starting to enjoy the story.
"What happened after that?"
"Well, the pizzas showed up, then Lucy talked you into going shot for shot."
Now it was Tim's turn to be mortified. "Oh, fuck."
"She out-drank you, by the way," Nolan added on. "Then you two started doing body shots."
Tim and Lucy exchanged "No the fuck we didn't" looks.
"I hope you're joking," Lucy finally squeaked out.
"Nope." Nolan shook his head, adding, "Both of you asked me to record it, by the way."
"Tell me you didn't." Tim looked extremely horrified at this point.
Nolan raised his right hand. "I solemnly swear that there is no video evidence anywhere."
"You did go upstairs after about three rounds, though," Bailey supplied. That's about where my memory stops for the night."
"Which leads us to this morning," Tim said, "And me in bed with Lucy."
Nolan nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up. Who's up for brunch?"
Tim held up the pizza crust in his hand. "That's what this was."
Nolan shook his head. "I mean an actual brunch, not just stale pizza and coffee."
"Well, when you put it that way," Bailey replied. "I'm in."
Tim and Lucy exchanged a quick look. "We're in."
After a somewhat awkward wait for Tim and Lucy to get dressed, the foursome made their way out. The dynamic between Tim and Lucy definitely seemed to change, at least that's what Bailey and Nolan observed. They would tell each other how they felt at some point. Everyone at the table knew it, too.
And that's my first fic for The Rookie. Leave a review, hit that follow button, and all that other Jazz. I'll catch you on the flip side.