"Oh, god, shut up."

"You shut up," she groaned. "This was your idea, anyway."

"Since when have you ever gone along with any of my hair-brained schemes? How was I supposed to know you'd start now?" He dragged the covers over his head, blocking out the sunlight.

"You know I never turn down a challenge." She tugged at the covers. "Don't be such a blanket hog," she admonished, "I need those, too."

"Yeah, well, the light's making me nauseous, and I don't think I'll make it to the curtains," he said, "or the bathroom. So unless you want a bed full of vomit, you'll let me have the blankets."

"Jerk," she responded. "It's hurting my eyes, too. And I've got two of them, so I deserve the blanket more."

"Use a pillow." He rolled over slowly, groaning as his head throbbed with each tiny movement. "Next time, leave my good whiskey alone."

"Next time?" she echoed. "I don't think I'm going to live through this time."

"Your own damn fault. If you'd just given up gracefully, like any normal girl would've, then we wouldn't be in this predicament." He reached out blindly, feeling for the side table drawer in which he kept a bottle of aspirin.

"If you hadn't issued a challenge in the first place, I wouldn't have had to drink you under the table." She kicked at him irritably, then cursed when her feet got tangled in the sheets.

"You did not drink me under the table," he said. "You passed out, and I had to carry you up to bed. Up twenty-seven steps. While drunk. And you're heavy."

She blew out a breath, turning a little towards him. He was squinting at her over the blankets, his eye bloodshot. He looked as haggard as she felt, with his hair rumpled and a night's growth of stubble shadowing his jaw.

"Aspirin?" he croaked, offering her a few tablets.

She shook her head. "I don't think I could swallow it without hurling."

He shrugged a little, wincing as he did so, then shoved them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. Then he bared his teeth into a wretched semblance of a smile. His fingers caught hers beneath the blanket. She snuggled a little closer, shifting so that her head fell against his shoulder. He kindly drew the blanket over both of their heads, shutting out the light.

"Aw," he said softly. "You know, these are our first hangovers together, as a couple."

"We should take pictures and make a scrapbook. I'll save the corks and bottle caps," she said.

He laughed a little. "I'd kiss you," he said, "but I'm afraid I might throw up."

"How romantic."

"I know, right? Rain check, though?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Only after you've brushed your teeth."