Author's note: I love MLIW. Just by the way. Thank you, whoever submitted that story and made me smile during study hall. Also, thanks to my friends who gave me some help. Just btw, I have no experience with being drunk, only with being called at two am to be told I have a cute laugh. As such, this is based partly on that experience and a story which was recounted to me by another friend, in which she did not feel drunk until she got knocked over in a hug. Apparently, all the details are a bit fuzzy after that. xD
In my opinion, this isn't really that great – truthfully, I'm not putting much effort into it like I usually do. I forced myself to finish it because the idea was burning a whole in my skull, but I've had a bit of a writer's block the past few weeks when it's come to fanfics. It's already longer than I wanted, so if you don't like it… I don't know, write your own fics? Gosh.
"OW! What part of headache don't you understand?" Taichi threw his arms protectively over his head, glaring at Yamato from between his elbows. Yamato, however, was not remorseful.
"What part of 'I was sleeping before getting a phone call from some ditzy chick on your cell phone to pick your dumb ass up' don't you understand," Yamato countered. He was looking thoroughly agitated even as he was throwing a pillow and a blanket onto the couch – Taichi had pleaded rather irritatingly the entire car ride home to not bring him home till the next morning. He still smelled like tequila, although he was much less giggly after a face full of cold water and the smack upside the head. Yamato felt some smug satisfaction at that thought.
"I was perfectly fine with taking the train with her," Taichi grumbled, pouting like a small child. Yamato rose an eyebrow.
"You won't even remember who borrowed your phone in the morning." Yamato stomped on his foot on the way to the kitchen, and Taichi yelped.
"And that," he demanded, tripping over the edge of the couch and clinging to his foot as he laid with his back on the floor.
"You threw up, you drunken idiot," Yamato said quite calmly. The sound of a kettle being filled with water and placed on the stove seemed to ring throughout the apartment, at least to Taichi's alcohol-pained mind.
"So you cause me pain?" Taichi sounded rather pitiful as he struggled to sit back up. It wasn't working out, though. He rocked up, fell back, and after the second attempt, he decided that the floor was pretty comfy after all.
"I cause you pain because those were new seats, and now it's gonna take a week to get the smell of your partying out," Yamato snapped, all attempts at patience gone as he stood tall over Taichi, glaring down at him with his hands on his hips in a remarkable imitation of his mother, although he'd never see it if someone were to point it out to him.
"It was an awesome party. I invited you," Taichi reminded him, grinning stupidly. Yamato rolled his eyes.
"I had better things to do than watch a bunch of Japan's smartest get wasted."
"Like write your lurrrrve songs?" Apparently, being knocked off balance had made Taichi rather giggly again. Yamato resisted the urge to get another glass of water – hot, this time, fresh from the kettle.
"Practicing for a show tomorrow – a show," Yamato couldn't resist but to point out, "that I won't be rested for, thanks to your team mates."
"Dude. You should sleep then," Taichi said, expression quite serious. He closed his eyes. "Night-night, Yama-chan!"
"Haha," Yamato laughed dryly. "No. Up," he ordered, prodding Taichi's shoulder with his socked toe.
Taichi whined and scrunched up his nose in protest. "Sleepy time, Yama," he scolded meekly.
"After tea." Yamato bent down and grasped hold of Taichi's hand. Taichi complained about wanting to sleep, but otherwise allowed Yamato to pull himself to his feet (if only to keep his arm connected to his shoulder).
"I have a headache," Taichi repeated, wavering on his feet as he reached up to touch his head.
"It'd hurt less if you talked less," Yamato grumbled, but he kept a tight grip on his best friend's arm until Taichi was seated safely on the sofa.
"Yamato!" Taichi whined, pouting rather pathetically. Yamato sighed. Why, oh why had he answered his phone?
"Tea will help settle your stomach. And you're headache," he added monotonously although he wasn't sure of the validity of that statement. He only said it because Taichi had every signs of asking.
"You sound like my grandma," Taichi complained. Yamato scowled.
"It helps, doesn't it?"
Taichi gave him a blank look. "Sounding like Grandma?"
Yamato smacked his palm to his forehead. "The tea, you idiot. Does the tea help when she says it will?"
"Then shut up and drink the tea when it's done." Yamato had never had much patience for Taichi's circling banter when he was sober – best friends was a fluid concept under the influence (lack of sleep, meet giddy and drunk). Dealing with him giggly and, well, more obnoxious than usual was pressing Yamato's limits.
"Yes Sir, Mr. Grumpypuss," Taichi agreed, saluting. The quick motion made his face pale, and Yamato leaped back just in time to avoid a coating of fresh vomit.
"Taichi," he groaned, running a hand through his hair. Taichi was a bit too busy coughing to reply. "Geez… C'mon, man. Up." He pulled Taichi up from the couch and slung Taichi's arm around his shoulder, carefully avoiding the puddle on the carpet. Eh… It was stained already anyways
"I think I'd rather tea," Taichi mumbled, feebly pulling a hand across his mouth. Yamato ignored him and focused on half-dragging his friend to the bathroom.
It was a good call, all in all. Taichi threw up four more times by the end of the hour, and Yamato brought him his tea in the bathroom. Yamato perched on the edge of the bath tub while Taichi sat against the wall beside the toilet.
"I drank thirteen shots. Which is unlucky. Which is why I threw up." He said this all very matter-of-factly as he sipped his green tea.
"Dude!" Yamato threw a scrubby from the shower at him. "You threw up because you drank THIRTEEN SHOTS."