Some Girl

Hangover

-SCARLETT'S POV-

I groaned as I was roused into consciousness, vaguely aware of the sunlight hitting my closed eyes that didn't help the feeling of a thousand tiny hammers pounding against the inside of my skull. I couldn't remember much of what happened last night after my first drink. I was notorious for being a lightweight drunk. I also couldn't be held responsible for anything I said once I reached that point. All my walls would come down and I lost my filter after one strong drink. Based on the killer headache I had, I had had a lot more than just the one drink.

As I forced myself to open my eyes, I groaned again in response to the sunshine flooding through the bedroom windows. Sitting up, I massaged my temples while slowly looking around the room. Even in my hungover state, I could tell I wasn't in my hotel room I had been renting while I stayed in Vancouver. However, I couldn't fully process anything enough to figure out where exactly I was. My gaze fell on two pills next to a glass of water on the nightstand as well as a piece of paper scrawled with a note.

Reaching out, I greedily downed the pills without question, chugging down most of the water before grabbing the note.

'There are pancakes and tacos on the table in the dining room when you wake up. Didn't know what type of hangover food you'd want so I gave you options. I had to go to set, but I'll be back to check on you during my break. Take it easy.

-Jay'

I had to reread the note three more times before it somewhat stuck in my brain. There was hangover food wherever the dining room was and "Jay" would be coming to check on me at some point whenever they had a break from set. Stumbling out of the bed, I staggered out of the room and down the hall in the direction of where I could smell the tacos the note said were waiting for me. I eventually found my way to the dining room, finding the pancakes and tacos sitting in the middle of the table as promised.

I grunted as I took a seat and grabbed a pancake off the plate. Trying my best to ignore the pounding in my skull, I focused on tearing off little pieces of the doughy breakfast food and putting them in my mouth. While I ate, I tried futilely to recall any part of last night. I remembered getting to the bar and ordering a Manhattan with Jensen, but everything after that was a blurred muddle in my brain. The sound of a door opening and closing and then a piercing whistle met my ears, and I cursed whoever it was.

A moment later, Jensen walked into the room, the whistling coming to an abrupt stop as he grinned at me.

"How you doin', Lightweight?" he asked me.

"I was doing a lot better before you walked through that damn door," I grumbled, ripping off another piece of pancake and shoving it in my mouth.

"Ah, you know you love me," he winked, taking a seat at the table across from me. "You know, you could have mentioned you can't handle your alcohol when I offered to take you out for drinks."

"I always knew you were a douchebag, but you're even more of one than I thought if you don't turn down the fucking volume, Douchebag."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is my normal speaking volume too much for your sensitive head?" he teased, sarcasm lacing his words.

"Fuck you, Douchebag."

"Maybe later, Lightweight."

I nearly choked on my piece of pancake. Jensen remained unfazed, reaching into the bag of tacos and pulling one out.

"W-what happened last night?" I inquired.

"How much do you remember?"

"We argued over whether or not we were celebrating."

"That's the last thing you remember?"

"Shh," I told him, grabbing another pancake.

"That was at the beginning of your first drink," Jensen continued at the same volume. "Is that really the last thing you can remember from last night?"

"You're the one calling me Lightweight, Douchebag."

"Well, yeah, but I thought you'd remember a little more than that."

"Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

Jensen studied me for a few minutes, the only sound the two of us chewing our food. Right when I thought he wasn't going to tell me anything, he finally spoke up.

"You talked a lot. Nonsense mostly; I don't really remember much of what you said. I cut you off halfway through your third Manhattan, but I guess the damage had already been done by then."

"You let me have two and a half Manhattans?!"

I winced as my voice came out louder than I intended it to.

"Hey, you're the one who forgot to mention you were a lightweight, Lightweight."

"Yeah, but the effects usually start to hit me after one drink. Surely you noticed that, Douchebag."

"Maybe I did, but I didn't fully realize the damage more alcohol would do until you were ordering your third."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands and leaning against the table.

"Please tell me I didn't say anything too embarrassing."

"Sure, I'd be happy to tell you that if it would make you feel better," I could hear Jensen's smirk in the statement.

"What. Did. I. Say?"

"Nothing incriminating, I promise. But you did call Tom to tell him you were sitting next to Jensen Ross Ackles."

I groaned into my hands, refusing to look up at him.

"He had you pass the phone to me, we talked for a minute, and then I brought you back here to recover," he finished.

"You swear I didn't say anything incriminating?"

"Cross my heart."

I raised my gaze slightly to gauge his expression, but he remained serious as he ate a third taco. If he was lying to me, nothing in his face gave it away. I had no choice but to take his word for it, considering I didn't remember anything after my first Manhattan. I supposed I could ask Tom, but he most likely wouldn't be able to fill in most of the gaps.

"So, how's the hangover?"

I only groaned in response.