08 January 2013 @ 07:53 pm
*John groggily wakes up. He tries to open his eyes but the light hurts so he snaps them shut. It takes him a good ten minutes just to be able to half open one and check his surroundings. Judging by the gold and green he can see out of the corner of his eye, he’s in his living room. On the sofa. The thing weighing him down would indicate a heavy blanket of some sort.*


*He closes his eyes and tries to work out what happened the previous evening. The children had gone off to a friend’s house for a New Year’s sleepover so Sally had suggested a nice quiet adult evening in for the two of them. Naturally, that wasn’t what happened, and after Peter’s (eventual) arrival, the alcohol flowed rather more freely than planned. He can’t remember much after the fourth bottle was opened and he’s only a little better on what went before that point.*

*John drags himself into a sitting position and tries to summon a memory or two. Sally has suggested a game of Scrabble, a notion Peter quickly and firmly squashed. There had been an argument over music, as their usually was. John also remembers calling someone a “stupid curly haired anaemic vampire” and even hungover he knows who the description was aimed at. He groans again, and forces himself (past the empty bottles and stained glasses) to the kitchen to get a pint of water and some hangover cure potion.*

*There’s a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he did something really wrong last night – a quiet dread that builds as his senses come back to him. He can’t quite work it out, but slowly an image forms in his mind. It’s Peter’s face. Looking, presumably, at John. And he’s… shocked? Horrified?*

Oh for Merlin’s sake…

*It takes a while but eventually John’s able to find his phone.*

Text from 078## ######


I have a feeling I need to apologise to you, but for what I am not entirely sure.



*Text sent, John slumps down into a chair and attempts to will his headache away.*