Camera Flashes (1) - Taylor Swift

27

"I wanted to return this to whichever one of you left it in the corridor last night," Charles placed the bra in the middle of the dining table as Taylor and Grace finally came in with tall cups of coffee.

They were so hungover and miserable that Taylor didn't even reject Grace's offer to make her coffee an Irish one, she happily accepted the whiskey without a word spoken. If the pounding in her head went away then she would thank her, but until then they hadn't said a single word to each other. All that had been shared besides a groan and a turn over the toilet was a glance that told them they felt just as bad as the other did, although Taylor was definitely feeling worse.

"Shh," Grace looked at it and then picked it up, "That is yours."

She flung it over Taylor's shoulder and the blonde winced, not only with embarrassment but because the voices were too loud and someone had turned on a damn light, "Thanks, Gracie, I couldn't tell."

"Do not castigate me with that tone," Grace groaned, it hurt to talk. She couldn't remember the last time she had been that hungover, or even noticeably hungover at all, she had think it must've been when she was about twelve.

"Shh," it was Taylor's turn to say it. By that point, she had let the bra fall to the floor because Charles had already found it and it wasn't like Grace hadn't seen it all.

"So this is a lovely morning," Charles smiled with amusement once he realized why they were so miserable besides having to have coffee with him.

Both halves of the couple glared at him, he wasn't sure which scared him more. Grace took another sip, so glad Taylor didn't give her that look when she reached for the whiskey in the cabinet. Maybe she wasn't joking when she said she was halfway there.

Just when Taylor thought the nausea had fully passed, she was about halfway through the silent coffee the three of them were having while Parker made himself oatmeal in the kitchen, she had to make a dash to the nearest bathroom.

"Maybe it was the donuts," Charles suggested as he flicked the paper to keep it upright.

"What donuts?" Grace inquired, she was serious. She couldn't remember much after the drink she had when Taylor was talking to the guitar player and smiled just a little too much.

"How many drinks did you have last night?" He leaned in with surprise, the paper was forgotten.

"Enough to make me forget about how much you aggravate me. I think that I'm starting to need another," she smiled bitterly, narrowing her forest eyes as she took a shot at him. He cleared his throat, backed off and went back to the newspaper.

He missed the televised news he had gotten used to at home, but he couldn't figure out how to turn Taylor's on and was too afraid to ask.

Grace stood up, picked the bra off the floor and went down the hallway to find her girlfriend, "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," Taylor groaned. She had laid down on the floor in Grace's typical fashion, face against the tile that was likely as disgusting as she felt just because it was cool and it made her head pound the tiniest bit less.

Grace slowly turned the handle and peeked in, "Darling, what's a donut?"

"Don't even talk about donuts right now," Taylor squeezed her eyes shut and added, "You should probably go away."

Grace closed the door with the slightest bit of confusion, but she was sitting outside the bathroom when Taylor finally came out, just in case she needed anything.

"You waited?" Taylor looked at her with soft eyes, her mannerisms all seemed defeated.

"It's a small house, where did you want me to loiter?" Grace played it down. It wasn't a small house, but compared to her own it was.