36 - Just Call Me Captain Backfire
I have to stop waking up like this, a hungover Marty groaned, the dull thrumming pain in his head telling him that he'd drinken a little too much the night before. He briefly wondered why he was waking up in the guest room of all places, but that question was quickly replaced by the realization that he was naked and how Marty had ended up that way.
"That is the last time I get drunk by myself," he promised, rubbing the center of his forehead with the index and middle fingers of his left hand in a circular motion. After finding his boxers and slipping them on, Marty stumbled from the guest room and headed towards the downstairs washroom in search of Tylenol (or similar pain reliever) in hopes of quelling some of the throbbing his head was experiencing. With that taken cared of, he decided to take a shower and then get dressed before tackling the task of cleaning up the mess that was the living room.
Marty marvelled at how many bottles of beer he'd managed to drink by himself until he came across a nearly empty bottle at the end of the coffee table, his sharp gaze immediately drawn to the light shade of lipstick on its rim.
"Beats drinking alone," joked Marty, handing his unexpected guest a beer.
"If you can't beat them, join them," Rory quipped back, accepting it with a smile.
"Rory was here?" Marty asked aloud, confused by the sudden hazy memory. He attempted to recall more but frowned when his mind refused to give up anything further. With a shake of his head Marty continued with the task of cleaning up the living room, taking all the empty bottles into the kitchen to place in the recycling bin. It was during the completion of this mundane task that Marty briefly worried that Rory had bore witness to his humilating strip show, but quickly dismissed the thought since there was no sign of Rory having stayed beyond the one drink she hadn't even finished in the living room.
He glanced at the clock on the wall and decided that he'd clean the guest room later since there were many errands that required his attention more at the moment, like speaking with Rob on starting a few days earlier than originally planned. It was best to keep busy and out of the townhouse right now in order to avoid another evening of feeling sorry for himself. One night of excessive drinking to drown his sorrows was quite enough. He had the hangover to prove it.
When he arrived at the office thirty minutes later Marty immediately noticed that a few of his co-workers were glancing at him with pity, which just served to annoy him to tell the truth. He rolled his eyes and continued towards Rob's office, choosing to ignore the so-called sympathetic expressions of his co-workers were sending his way for now.
"Well, this is certainly a surprise," Rob greeted when Marty entered his office. "I didn't expect you back until at least Thursday. How was California?"
"Hot," he deadpanned, more or less falling into the nearest empty chair.
"If you don't mind me saying," his boss continued, leaning back in his own chair. "You look like crap, kid."
"Thanks," Marty replied dryly.
"Good to see you've kept your sense of humor," the older man commented with a snort. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if I could come back to work a little early."
"Going stir crazy now that you're back, huh?" Rob said knowingly.
"Like you wouldn't believe," he sighed.
"Well, I did have one particular project lined up for you when you got back, so I don't see any harm in you getting a headstart on it now," his boss nodded, quickly adding. "Actually, the headstart will probably be necessary now that I think about it."
"I'll get right on it then," Marty rose from his chair. "Thanks, Rob."
"Don't mention it, kid," Rob said, then added as his subordinate reached the door. "And Martin?"
Marty paused, his hand around the doorknob. "Yeah?"
"You're going to be okay."
"Thanks," he nodded before exitting the office.
By the end of the work week Marty realized that Rob hadn't been exaggerating that he'd need the headstart on this latest project, which the formerly engaged architect was grateful for since it kept his mind off anything remotely Andy related. In fact, the project kept him so occupied that Marty had neglected to re-stock his fridge and cupboards with food.
Might as well head over to Park's for a few things, he decided, not in the mood for a serious trip to the supermarket. Marty was already tired and the thought of dealing with a long line up was not at all appealing. Better to grab a few things for a small supper tonight then do the serious shopping tomorrow. Besides Marty found grocery shopping on Saturday afternoons easier since he could relax and take his time instead of rushing back and forth like he'd be forced to do if he went now.
Marty entered the family run store and nodded in greeting to the teen girl at the till, who casually waved back at him before resuming to read the magazine on the counter top.
"Hey, Myung," a familiar voice greeted when Marty had arrived at the frozen foods section near the back of the store. "Guess what I forgot to buy last time I was here?"
"You know, for some one who claims to be addicted to that crap, you sure forget to buy it a lot," the teen cashier joked.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Rory laughed. That laughter came to an abrupt stop though when Marty turned to face her on his way to the till, the pair meeting in the aisle.
"Hey, Rory," he greeted following a long and awkward staring contest. "How are you?"
The reporter blinked at him, mouth slightly agape in surprise. "Uh..."
"I think the word you're looking for, Rory, is 'Hello, John Mayer look-alike, please let me have your babies!'" the cashier cried from her station. "Or something to that effect."
"Shut up, Myung," a now red-faced Rory Gilmore pleaded, her expression that of a person who wanted desperately to be somewhere else.
"You doing okay there?" Marty asked, confused by her behavior.
"I'm fine, Marty," she said, her blue eyes fluttering in rapid succession. "Why would you think I wouldn't be okay?"
"You're doing that weird blinky thing you do whenever you try to hide something," he answered with a smirk. "It makes you a very poor poker player, by the way."
"Sometimes I forget how well you actually know me," Rory muttered, uncomfortable.
Marty frowned. "I'm getting the impression that you're mad at me for something."
"No, no, it's nothing you did," she sighed then stiffened. "Wait a second. You don't remember anything from the last time we were together?"
"Not really," he shrugged.
"You mean to tell me that you don't remember what happened that night?" Rory whispered, her cerulean eyes widening. "Nothing at all?"
"No, just flashes here and there, but nothing all that detailed," he answered, completely at a loss to why the usually vibrant young woman standing in front of him seemed on the verge of tears. "Oh, crap. What happened?"
"I can't be here right now," she rasped, turning on her heel to practically run pell-mell out the door.
"What the hell just happened?" Marty asked aloud, still in shock.
"Your guess is as good as mine," answered Myung from the cash register. "So...paper or plastic?"
What the hell happened back there? What happened before that to cause that sort of reaction from Rory? Marty wondered apon arriving home several minutes later, the plastic bag containing his purchases placed on top of the breakfast nook. What the hell is going on?
"How do I fix this?" he groaned, once again at a loss. What he needed was to talk to Rory and find out what happened, but Marty doubted that was a viable option considering the outcome of their recent encounter at Park's Confectionary. Damn, I really wish I hadn't drinken so much that night!
He glanced at the frozen microwave dinner for a moment then opened the freezer and tossed it inside, his appetite abandoning him in lieu of the knot forming in the pit of his stomach.
"Screw it, I'm taking a nap," he muttered, his head beginning to ache from the sudden drama. His trek toward his bedroom ceased though when Marty arrived at the doorway of his guest room and the memory of how he awoke the next morning returned. He naturally assumed that Rory was gone before stripping down during his drunken stupor, but what if something else entirely different had happened?
With renewed interest Marty entered the guest room (which he'd neglected to clean during the week) determined to find something, anything that would give him a clue as to why Rory had been upset. It didn't take him long to discover two very compelling pieces of evidence, each pointing to the same conclusion. The first was a camisole that definitely did not belong to Andy since the blonde never wore them, preferring t-shirts and such clothing over the delicate item in his hand. The second was the waste basket. Or rather, the contents of the waste basket.
"Well, shit," Marty muttered, more or less falling onto the bed in shock.
Come on, Marty can't be the only person that has had that happened to them, right? I mean, we've all had that one drunken mistake we didn't realize until way later. What? I'm the only one? Hmm, does that make me a slut? I'm oddly alright with that.