Disclaimer: The Hangover was not my doing, nor are the characters mine. *pout*
Includes pokes and winks towards THE HANGOVER Trilogy.

a/n: Here's the final part, enjoy!

Story Warnings/(spoilers): Institutionalization, prescription drugs, mental illness, profanity, 'gun' use, drug crime, slight nudity, near-drowning, pornography, mild violence, course language,

The ... Hangover

The Sleepover: Part 3

Phil sighed in his sleep. There was a flash behind his eyelids and he groaned, throwing an arm across his eyes to stave off the coming morning. Five more minutes! But it was the suppressed giggle that woke him up.

He let his arm drop and cracked open his eyes. He looked around the dimly lit den and remembered the sleepover and everything else that came along with it. The paintball gun. The pool. The... thing Alan had been wearing... "Ugh." He muttered.

"Finally up, sleepy-head?" Alan was sitting on his knees on his sleeping bag, facing Phil, something orange in his hands.

Phil attempted to lurch forward into the sitting position, but he only managed to somehow make it half-way up before the move was aborted and he flopped to the side.

There was a shriek of indignantly, anger, and embarrassment down the hall and Phil knew that Stu had looked in the bathroom mirror.

"Heh." Phil rubbed the rest of the sleep from his eyes. God, it was going to suck having to wake up at 7 for school five times a week starting Monday.

Alan laughed too. "I totally took photo's of Stu with my cell." He held up an orange-coloured slid phone, grinning. He held it at an angle so that Phil could easily see from his slumped position.

Phil laughed. He was totally posting those on his Facebook Page. But then he blinked at the cell phone, "Weren't you talking on this last night?"

"Are you kidding? This has over sixty-apps—this is my life's work!" Alan told him seriously, hugging the phone to his chest. "I would never be so reckless." He'd had this since he was a kid, but when he was inside the hospital, he wasn't allowed to have it. Phone calls were a privilege and had to be monitored. But at three years in that place, he'd met people like Eddie, and he'd gotten that burner phone. It was very top-spy stuff, which was always fun. He was going to have to find some other way to make contact with Leslie. He was determined to see his friend.

"Yeah, but wasn't that your phone sitting at the bottom of the pool?" Phil questioned, he managed to sit up and leaned back on his palms, the TV at his back.

"No. That was a secret phone. Tracy can't know. She'll be so mad!" his eyes were wide with worry. She would be absolutely furious if she found out that he was trying to talk to his old coach.

What the hell? A secret phone to go with his secret girl. Jeez, Alan was starting to have more game than he was. "So you said: you're eighteen now, they can't stop you. It's cool that you have an older girl." Phil shrugged.

"Girlfriend?" Alan repeated and then chuckled, shaking his head. "No. Leslie's not my g—"

"Awake, I see." Tracy greeted the playboy teen crisply from the stairs of the den, her arms crossed over her chest. Doug stood behind her at her shoulder, looking somewhat scolding. They were both dressed and completely awake.

He blinked and glanced over at Alan, who seemed to be dressed now, too. In a pair of cut-off jean-shorts and a Sea World tee. Huh. "Yes. Good morning to you, too. What's up?"

She cocked a brow. "Did you have a nice swim? Tire you out, huh?"

Alan's dark blue gaze darted between the two, like a dog following a ping-pong match.

Phil's eyes widened slightly. How the hell did she find out? "W-what?"

"Yeah." She nodded. She kicked his bag at the bottom of the stair. "Clothes a little wet?" He gulped. "Alan could have died, Phil!"

"It wasn't my fault," Phil sputtered out a protest. It was half his fault, sure; he startled the kid. But the other half belong to Alan who decided it was mighty fine fucking idea to have a phone call on the edge of a diving board! Who does that? "... he was wearing metal underwear!"

"Yeah." Tracy sighed, some of the steam coming out of her at the admission. "After I found out about the near-drowning I made him take that off." Tracy said.

"She gave me this instead." Alan chirped up and there was a loud piercing whistle that had the other teens cringing until Phil smacked the whistle from Alan's mouth. It spun around the chain on his neck to hang between his shoulder blades as the others sighed in relief like they were all hungover and Alan was the toddler with the pots and pans. It took a moment for the redhead to right the whistle chain, but he was grinning. "It's more fun!"

"I'm happy for you, Alan." Phil said dryly. Alan beamed. Phil couldn't help but sigh and smile a little.

"Phil!" Stu screamed, steaming down the stairs, past the couple. He breathed heavily, red-faced with water droplets still dripping from his chin.

"Stu, what happened?" Tracy asked.

"Phil drew... on my face."

Phil shrugged and smirked, admiring his handy-word. It was clear that Stu had attempted to wash that marker from his face with marginal and varying degrees of success. His skin was a raw red. His own glasses obscured the spectacles that Phil had drawn, and it was clear that he put most of his effort into scrubbing away the penis and Hitler-'stache; the latter of which could appear as nothing more than a smudge, with the former still having a little more form.

"You fell asleep first. You know what happens."

"That was when we were kids!" Stu protested. "We're practically adults now!"

"Kids enough to still be having a sleepover though, apparently." Phil reasoned slyly. "You even said that yourself. Rules still apply."

Stu fumed and cursed. He always fell asleep first, god damnit! But it was his own damn fault that he thought Phil might have grown even a little since the last time they had a sleepover.

"Alright!" Doug clapped his hands, breaking Stu's glare and Phil's flippancy.. "Who's hungry? Blanca's breakfast smells amazing."

Alan climbed to his feet and squeezed passed the couple on the stairs. "It's called brunch, Doug. It's too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. Everybody knows this."

"Well," Doug looked at his girlfriend. "You learn something new every day, I guess." Tracy and Doug followed her brother up.

Phil shoved the sleeping bag aside and climbed to his feet. He was already wearing what he was going to wear for the day, so that was one less thing he needed the hassle of handling. He carded his fingers through his hair. Phil still looked like a hunk, even with the bed-hair; had Stu walked around with bed-head, he'd look like a demented chipmunk. He scowled at the other teen, who smirked in return.

"Better luck next time, huh, buddy?" he winked and clapped the irked teen on the back as he passed to go up the stairs. Stu ground his teeth and followed after.

"This is some of the best food I've ever eaten, Blanca!" Phil called. "You're beautiful. As soon as I turn eighteen, I swear I'm going to marry you." Blanca's flustered and flattered Spanish murmurs could clearly be heard in the dinning room, and Phil smirked as he finished his brunch as Alan had called it. He finally sat back, his stomach bloated. "So, what's next?"

"Swimming," Alan said instantly.

Phil rose a brow and so did Tracy.

"After last night, I don't know if that's such a good idea." She tried to let her brother down gentle.

"What?" he pouted.

"Yeah," Phil agreed. "Do you even know how to swim?"

Alan flushed in embarrassment. Not because the chastity belt or the stripping, but because Alan wanted to impress Phil and he'd had a humiliating moment of near-drowning last night. "I can-too swim!" he jumped to his feet. "You've seen all my metals. I wasn't ready, I told you that last night. I'll race you and prove it to you!"

It kind of got awkward-silent for a moment as the others were reminded of Alan's frightening past. Alan in-haled shakily (Tracy had told him that she was going to tell the others). But Phil ploughed ahead:

"Alright, you're on!" Phil rose and stood, challenge accepted.

After a short moment, Alan's down-cast expression split into a bright smile. "Okay!" and he skipped out of the dinning room and up the stairs to his bedroom to get changed.

Phil stood awkwardly now as the other three stared at him. "What?" he shrugged.

About a half-hour later, everyone was out at the deck, clad in their bathing suits, save for Alan.

Phil cupped his hands and called impatiently, "Alan, what the fuck's the hold-up!"

Tracy lounged in the in a chair by the poolside, sun bathing in a bikini, sunglasses perched on her nose. "He's very particular about this sort of thing. He's very excited. They didn't have a pool at the hospital."

"I'm here!" Alan came out the back of the house, skipping onto the deck in a pair of flip-flops, carrying an office box.

"Alan," Phil voiced, shocked. "Is that a Speedo?"

"I found my old one when I was looking for this other stuff." He came down to the pool. "Do you want to borrow one, Phil. You'll swim better."

"What? No, no. I'm okay, buddy." Borrow a suit from a guy was just fucking weird, especially a Speedo. He was fine with his trunks.

"Suit yourself, Phil." Alan rose his chin and flicked his bangs. He set the box down and dug through the contents. "You can be the ref., Stu." He handed something to the spectacled teen who was in trunks and a tee.

"Uh, sure, Alan." Stu took the stop watch and then a second one.

Alan stood up with a roll in his hands.

"What's that?" Doug questioned as he sat at the foot of Tracy's chair.

"It's ribbon to make lanes in the pool." Alan handed one end to Phil and it started to unravel as he walked to the other end of the pool. Phil sighed but went to the other end of the lengthy pool and tied the plastic ribbon off down the center of the pool. This had started off as fun, but now, as they stood at the start of either of their 'lanes' and Alan snapped his goggles on, it was turning into some serious shit. Phil narrowed his eyes in determination and took the offered pair of extra goggles that Alan offered him with a smirk. It kind of felt like he'd walked into a trap.

"Alright." Stu called, holding a stop watch in each hand and standing on the diving board platform. "Uh. On your marks, get set... GO!" Alan was kind enough to offer Stu his whistle, and it was shrill.

Alan gave him a huge smile as he treaded water. Phil looked back at him, still trying to get his breath back. How... the fuck? That kid could tread water. Phil was impressed. Alan had kicked his ass. Phil had thought there was minimal chance that he could win in a race against Alan, despite the redhead's weight gain and lack of swim training the last three years. It was like putting a fish back into water with the kid.

But, being the petulant child that he was, Phil splashed the other teen. Alan blinked at him in shock, but then his eyes turned playful and a full out war began. None was left unmolested by the tide—

Glowering at the two, Tracy pointed a strict finger at the shed near the large tree at the fence. "Be adults, play with the pool toys and leave me out of it!"

Phil rolled his eyes, but it wasn't something he was against, so he dragged Alan from the pool, and still wet, over to the shed. Alan unlocked it, and stepped inside.

"Aah!" Alan screamed and ran out. "There's a tiger in there!"

"What? Alan." Phil went into the shed and returned, holding a feline in his arms. "It's a tabby cat, not a tiger. Get a hold of yourself, man."

"Phew!" Alan gasped in relief, hand over his pounding heart. He chuckled. "That scared me for a minute."

Phil shook his head amused. "Yeah. I can see what scared you." He lightly scratched the cat's head and it started to purr under his ministrations. "Want to pet 'im?"

Alan had to think about it for a moment before he tentatively stepped forward and slowly reached out. That was when Carlos decided to join the gang. He wasn't too happy, or maybe he was excited, or thought the cat was some live-action expensive chew toy. He barked and the cat yowled, purring done and claws out.

"Jesus, fuck!" Phil shouted as the cat's claws dug into his bicep. Alan gave a cry and ran away as Carlos continued to bark and the cat tried to climb Phil's face. "Carlos, shut the fuck up!" he kicked at the dog, trying to keep his eyes in his face. "Alan! Alan!"

"Aah," Alan cringed but stopped and turn back.

"Alan, get Carlos!" he snapped at the teen.

Making some more uncomfortable noises, but determined, Alan took a deep breath and charged into the chaos in a Speedo and flip-flops. He grabbed Carlos' collar, giving it a jerk, commanded the dog firmly to "Cut it out,". Finally, Alan got the dog again and Phil manage to get the cat from his face and tossed it away from him. It landed, hissing, at the base of the tree that Alan had climbed earlier that week to get away from Carlos, the cat had the same idea as Alan released the dog and Carlos bolted for the cat. It yowled and went screeching into the tree as Carlos jumped and barked at its base.

Alan and Phil looked at each other. "Cat's are stupid."

"Let's just grab some of this shit," Phil muttered, going back into the shed, but was in complete agreement. Fucking cats, last time he was nice to one of those bastards. Luckily, he wasn't bleeding.

They grabbed at the pool stuff from the shed and headed back to the pool.

"What took you so long?" Stu asked innocently.

Phil glared at him as he tossed the stuff into the pool... and then he shoved Stu in right along with it. Alan laughed next to him. Phil did a canon ball, hitting Stu with a splash as he came sputtering to the surface, and Alan ran across the diving board, rolling a starfish (what the fuck?).

"Alright, I think it's time to pack it in, guys!" Doug called. They'd already had an early supper (pizza), and the other three were already dressed, while Phil and Alan had petulantly decided to stay in the pool, only opting to swim as far as the edge to eat before marooning themselves in the water once more. "It's getting late." Phil and Alan booed him. "I'm driving Stu home and then you."

"I'll just spend the night!" Phil claimed.

"Yay!" Alan clapped happily.

"What do you mean, spend the night?" Tracy questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and staring down at him from the edge of the pool.

Phil shrugged, idly flicking water as he lounged back on the float-y. "I'll just stay the night. Tomorrow's Sunday, I can go home then. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Tracy scoffed. "You can't just invite yourself to stay!"

"It's not a big deal, Tracy!" Alan said. "Phil can stay if he wants."

Alan and Tracy had a brief glaring contest; him with resolve and her with suspicion. Finally, she exhaled heavily and agreed.

"You can stay the night, but you're gone by tomorrow afternoon, got it? This isn't a half-way house."

Alan hooted and the pair high-fived, or at least attempted to. Alan's clap was very much enthusiastic, and with the drift happening between their two floatation's—the redhead over-balanced, toppling into the water. Phil chuckled, but Alan resurfaced with a smile.

Tracy rolled her eyes and turned to Doug. "Do you and Stu want to stay another night as well, might as well if Phil invited himself over anyways."

Stu shook his head, already dressed from when they had pizza. "I need the day to recover, before dealing with the monkys on Monday." He felt more battered staying the night at the Garners than he did after trying out for the basketball team.

"Yeah." Doug nodded. "I have to drive him, and my parents want to go out for dinner tomorrow."

"Alright." She sighed. "I'll walk you out." He smiled and took her hand, kissing her cheek as they went onto the deck. "Behave while I'm gone!" she called back to the pair.

When she came back from the driveway, waving to Doug and Stu as they pulled out onto the road, she paused at the sliding door and watched the pair. Apparently, 'behaving' while she was away, meant a sword-fight with the pool noodles. She gave a small chuckle, but left them to it. She was happier than she could have been—she wasn't expecting such a instant connection with Alan and her boyfriend and his friends.

By the time that the sun finally set and the back lights had to come on to be able to see despite the pool's own lighting, Phil had transitioned from the pool to the hot tub as Alan took to laps. Phil had ulterior motives for inviting himself to spend a second night other than this place being more dope than his house, and Alan was definitely more cooler and funner than his two little sisters—he was going to get to the bottom of Alan's secrets.

"Cool room." Phil said, looking around. True to her word, Tracy had left them to their own devices. After several hours in the pool, he was pruned, but Alan seemed to be unaffected. The Garner son's room was a classic picture of a fourteen-year-old (being that was the last time Alan was actually in his own room), but one thing was missing, something that adorned his own walls at home. "What, no naked chicks on your walls?"

"Huh?" Alan spun in a circle, looking at a his walls for a moment that were in fact, covered all manner of heroes, most prominent—Aqua Man! That man was beautiful in the water! Before his eyes lit up with understanding. Alan knelt by the suitcase that he had shoved in the corner and opened the flap on the front and pulled out a magazine. "It's called contraband!" he proffered it proudly.

"It's a porn mag." Phil chuckled, taking it in-hand and flipping through the pages of naked busting babes. "I honestly didn't expect this from you." He tossed it onto the desktop, dusting his hands.

"I'm a teenage boy, Phil." And that was all that needed to be said.

"Yeah, but... what about that thing you were wearing? Before..."

"Do you know the things that happen in prison?"

"Yeah, but you weren't in prison."

Any of the child-wonder and innocence that always lighted Alan eyes vanished, and suddenly, he wasn't an eighteen-year-old who looked fifteen and acted twelve, but a grown man, one who had anything but a traditional childhood. It caught Phil completely off-guard.

"It was a prison." Alan whispered. He sat at the foot of his king-sized bed.

"Hey," Phil said softly, and sat on the edge of the bed beside Alan. He patted his back a little awkwardly. "You okay?"

He sniffed and nodded. "I never want to go back there, Phil."

"Yeah." He nodded. "It sucks that you had to go there in the first place."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Alan raised his head and asked tentatively, "Can I—can I tell you something, Phil? A secret?"

"Yeah. Sure, buddy. Of course." Phil agreed, anticipation making his heart race.

Alan twiddled his thumbs in his lap before taking a deep breath. Phil was his friend, his new best friend. There was just a deep trust and adoration there that was near instantaneous as it had been with his coach. "Leslie... Leslie isn't my girlfriend."

"Oh?" he raised a brow at that. Though he was preparing himself for... something, this certain hadn't been it. "So who is she?"

Alan chuckled and shook his head lightly. "Leslie isn't a girl, Phil! He's my old swim coach."

"Old swim coach..." Phil repeated. He certainly didn't expect Leslie to be a man, but it was an instant later that his brain caught up with the teen's end admission. "Mr. Chow?!" He shouted and jumped to his feet.

Alan blinked briefly at the shout before nodding a smiling. "You remember."

"Of course I remember, Alan!" he exclaimed. "What Tracy said, what that guy did to you—! And you were calling him? What the hell, Alan! He's a criminal and a pervert."

"He's not a pervert!" Alan protested instantly, indignantly. "He never touched me like that! He's my best-friend! He's the only who never shunned me for being different. He didn't just treat me like some kid. He trusted me."

"He used you, Alan! Trust? He tricked you into smuggling illegal drugs in your body. You almost died!"

"People die every day, Phil!"

"Not like that, they don't."

"You don't know what you're talking about, you weren't there."

"I wasn't there, but it was bad enough that you had to be sent away to a mental hospital for three years after being in the hospital for a week!" Phil shook his head, "You can't call him, Alan."

Everyone kept telling him that. Dr. Hendrix, Tracy if she were ever to found out, and now Phil—who he had naively thought would see his side, support him. But even Chow was telling him not to call, not to visit. Alan just wanted his best-friend back! Why couldn't any of them see that? He'd been all but alone since he was sent away, Tracy though he loved her, it wasn't the same. And then, with Phil, he'd thought... He thought that he could trust Phil, but he'd clearly been wrong.

Alan stood up, his brow low beneath his bangs. He looked at Phil for a second before his mouth hardened and his boyish hurt disappeared behind the curtain.

"You're just like every buddy else. I thought you were different. I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend, Alan." Phil said softly.

Alan shook his head. "You're Sméagol. You're just pretending to be my friend."

Phil's eyes widened in shock at the comparison (don't tell anyone he knew the reference). "That's not true, Alan. I came to your sleepover—a fucking sleepover—because I wanted to be your friend. I like, you, alright?" he jerked his fingers through his hair uncomfortably, but pushed on. "You're weird and fun, and definitely not a kill-joy like Doug and Stu. Yes, it's cool that your family's loaded, but you're the one that's interesting and smart."

Alan looked at him with wide-eyes. He mumbled, "No one's ever called me smart before."

"You are, Alan. Do you know how much weird shit you've sprouted out over the weekend—from the Discovery Channel. Who watches the Discovery Channel? Certainly not a teenager, but you do. It's fucking brilliant!"

Alan giggled and grinned. "Okay, you convinced me. You can stay."

Phil blinked. "You were going to kick me out? It's the middle of the night."

Alan shrugged. "Enemies aren't welcome. Friends are."

"So, you admit it? We're friends." He grinned, feeling like a complete sentimental Stu. Thank God there was only one witness (who was acting cooler than him. It was a weird feeling).

And then Alan turned back to his bed and started to yank off the blanket and sheets.

"What are you doing?" Phil wondered.

"Making a fort!"

"A fort..."

"Yeah, Phil. It's not a real sleepover until there's a fort."

Phil gave a long groan and sigh. And carded his fingers through his still damp hair and stepped forward—this was some seriously little-kid shit, just like he had told Stu. The last time he'd built a fort for a sleepover was before he hit puberty. But he was seventeen now—and he was loving every minute of it.

Phil woke sleepily the next morning, still enclosed in the dark space of the fort that he and Alan had built in the former's room the previous night. They must have fallen asleep. It took him a moment to fully register the arms around his waist and the warm breath against the back of his neck—and who exactly they belonged to (definitely NOT Stephanie).

"Alan, what the fuck?!" Phil exclaimed, shoving the other teen off of him, completely awake now, adrenaline shooting through his veins.

"Mm?" Alan rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Is it morning yet?"

"It's morning!" Phil burst from the fort, flustered, like a bear from a cat-carrier, tearing the entire thing down and erasing the previous night.

Alan just sat up and blinked, looking around, sleep-and-snuggle ruffled. "Is my virtue still intact?"

"What?" Phil spun to him. "Yes! You were the one spooning me!" he pointed an accusing finger.

Alan giggled as he stood. "You're like a snugly teddy-bear, almost as good as Jerry."

"Jerry?" Phil repeated before shaking his head as the other teen went across the room. "No. We will never talk about this ever again. Promise, Alan? Alan?"

"Can we seal it with a blood pact?" the eighteen-year-old turned from his desk with and open pocket-knife.

"Shit!" Phil managed to slap it out of his hand before he could bring the small blade down on the opposite palm of his hand. Both teens stared at the blade stuck into the carpet, the pocket-knife standing upright. "What the fuck, Alan?!"

"It's a promise," he explained. "It can't be upheld unless it's sealed."

Phil looked at him, his mind trying to catch up. Kid was just like his little sisters. "Jesus Christ," he mumbled. "Alright. Here," he stuck out his hand, his pinkie extended. "Pinkie-swear, and we never talk about this again. Or the fact that we pinkie-swore, got it?"

Alan grinned and eagerly wrapped his own pinkie around Phil's. He rose his other hand and extended that pinkie, too, waiting. "Double pinkie-swear."

Phil grumbled but locked that one up too, definitely just like his sisters. What the fuck was he getting himself into again? He shrugged Alan off. "I'm hungry, what's for breakfast?"

It was finally noon and Tracy was kicking Phil to the curb. He'd finally gotten the official tour of the Garner mansion (there was no other term for it) after another mouth-gasm breakfast courtesy of Blanca. And, God damn!

"Seriously, can your parents adopt me or something?" Phil said jokingly at the front step, bag slung over his shoulder. "You're definitely way cooler and funner than my little sisters—and you're loaded."

"I'll adopt you." Alan said earnestly.

"Alan," he laughed. "You're the best, you know that? Seriously. I'll see you at school, huh?" Maybe this last year won't suck as bad as he thought, he was sure there was never to be a dull moment with Alan around.

Alan smiled brightly. "Yeah. Bye, Phil." He waved to the other teen as he got into the taxi idling in the drive, and pulled out.

Alan took out his orange slide phone and switched his background pic from that of a giraffe 'hanging on' (get it?), to a pic he'd snapped of Phil while he was asleep in the den the previous morning, and his password a very catchy: Hey Phil!

"Hey, Phil. U there yet?" he keyed into his phone and hit send as he turned back inside.

His phone chirped a minute later with the reply of: "Alan, wtf?!"

[toodooloo, motherfuckers!]
[end]

The — Hangover

End Note: Well, this is finally the end of The Sleepover with its 3 Parts. I hope you enjoyed it and laughed. I had tricky fun writing it, which is a confusing feeling. Please review!

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