|Chuck vs El Seis de Mayo
Author: Notorious JMG PM
A hangover drabble for the day after Cinco de Mayo, and a tale of how I'm sure many people felt this morning.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - Chuck B. & Sarah W. - Words: 536 - Reviews: 14 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 3 - Published: 05-06-11 - Status: Complete - id: 6969139
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chuck Bartowski really did NOT want to wake up.
And it wasn't because when he woke up, it meant that he had to get out of his nice comfortable bed. It wasn't because when he woke up, it meant he had to face the day and drag himself to the Buy More. It wasn't even because when he woke up, it meant that he had to take himself away from the wonderfully warm, deliciously smooth, and just all around amazing human being who was currently pressed up against him, contour to contour, with absolutely no space between them.
No, it was because when he woke up, Chuck Bartowski was going to have to deal with the fact that while he was asleep, a dump truck full of sand had shown up, run him over a few times, and then dumped its entire load of sand in his eyes.
A dump truck owned by the notoriously evil entity known as Cuervo & Corona.
You see, at that moment, as Chuck Bartowski lay in his bed, struggling to stay asleep, his alarm clock had just gone off, indicating that it was 8:22 AM (the time he had recklessly, randomly, and drunkenly set the night before). Next to the time was a small date counter, which read:
Yes, Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker had indeed celebrated Cinco de Mayo the night before, in a manner that served to prove their Southern Californianess. Admittedly, both had gotten their extreme drunkenness on in an attempt to forget, just for one night, that somewhere in Russia, there was a woman plotting to kill them all – and that the CIA was pretty much 100% responsible.
And so they had gotten utterly blitzed. In fact, their blitzedness was, as Chuck would later put it, comparable to his days in the fraternity at Stanford.
Corona, Dos Equis, Jose Cuervo – they had all played into the evening. And then, just before midnight, Sarah had stumbled into the apartment and produced – much to the amazement and delight of Chuck, Morgan, Alex, Awesome, Ellie, and even Casey – a bottle of Patron Gold.
The last thing that Chuck remembered was Morgan begging Alex to do a body shot off of Ellie. As he swam up through layers of hungover unconsciousness, he found himself hoping that Casey and Awesome had not conspired to dismember Morgan following that little incident.
Chuck had almost come to full wakefulness, and was getting ready to carelessly throw an arm over Sarah in the hopes that he would hit the alarm clock on the nightstand on the other side of her, when -
The noise of the gunshot, so close by, made Chuck's already pounding head explode with a brilliant display of fireworks. "AHHHH!" he cried in agony, coming to full consciousness as he grasped his throbbing cranium.
After a moment, the pain started to recede, and he forced his eyes open – to see Sarah, head under her pillow, smoking Colt 1911 in hand -
And that's when Chuck realized, the alarm clock was no longer going off.
"I shot your alarm clock, Chuck," Sarah's muffled voice came from under the pillow. "Sorry."
She didn't sound sorry.