Just Your Problem

What Did I Ever Do To You?

Marshall woke up with a throbbing headache. His throat was parched, and he honestly felt like shit. He groaned and rolled over to look at the clock. The red numbers flashed 1:35. Marshall sighed; he had two hours to get this headache down to at least a dull ache before work. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and made his way to the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee and reaching into the cabinet to grab the Excedrin. He popped a piece of toast into the toaster, and leaned against the counter drinking the coffee while he waited. Once the toast popped up, there was a loud groan from his living room.

What the fuck? Marshall thought to himself. He tried thinking back to last night and realized that Guy had come over last night. That was why his head hurt so bad; he and Guy had gotten hammered.

Guy stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes blearily with the palms of his hands.

"Eugh, why did you let us drink so much? Marshall, this is all your fault," Guy groaned, his voice thick with sleep.

Marshall chuckled. "You brought the alcohol, not me. I just helped you drink it," he retorted, reaching into the cabinet to grab the Excedrin before tossing it to him. Guy caught the bottle right before it nailed him in the eye, scowling at Marshall. "Guy, you gonna get ready for work here or are you gonna drive home? If you stay here, I've got some clothes you can borrow."

Guy groaned. "I really don't wanna go, I feel like shit, but if we have to, I guess I'll just borrow some of your clothes."

"I'm not the one who decided it would be a good idea to drink vodka, I'm the one who agreed with your good idea to drink vodka," Marshall pointed out.

"Shut up," Guy muttered, "dibs on first shower."

"But it's my house," Marshall complained.

"Deal with it. Unless you want to shower with me," Guy suggested sarcastically.

"Okay," Marshall retorted, following him.

"Woah, dude, no homo," Guy protested, crossing his arms.

Marshall quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him. "I'm going to get you some clothes. Believe me, I have no interest in showering with you."

Guy's face twisted into a frown. "Nice cover up," he muttered, walking to the bathroom and slamming the door.

"Don't slam my doors," Marshall yelled from the guest bedroom down the hall.

"Whatever, Petrikov," Guy called back.

A stocky white dog waddled into the room behind Marshall, his tail wagging a mile a minute. Marshall grabbed the clothes needed for Guy to change into, paused to pat the dog on the head, and carried the bundle of clothes into the bathroom, throwing them into the sink and walking out quickly. He made his way into the kitchen leisurely, filling the small food bowl next to the archway and calling the dog to eat. The dog scrambled into the kitchen, his nails skidding on the tile. Marshall chuckled and patted the dog on the head, scratching him behind the ears. He filled his water bowl, and finished his half empty cup of coffee while he waited for Guy to get out of the shower.

Once the two of them were dressed and ready, they took Guy's Acura to the tattoo shop Marshall's father had bought him in an attempt to mend the relationship between the two of them. Of course, it hadn't worked all that well, but Marshall wasn't complaining.

Hours later, the two had finally ended their shift, and both of them had gotten over their hangovers. Once they were sitting in Guy's car, discussing their options for the rest of the night, they were interrupted by the buzz of an incoming text on Guy's phone. It was Marceline, Guy's girlfriend and Marshall's cousin. She had asked if the two of them had wanted to come to her dorm and hang out, and the two of them had agreed. On the way, Guy stopped to pick up more alcohol, and not long after, they arrived in front of Marceline's apartment.

Marshall was the one to knock, and when the door opened he was surprised to see not his cousin, but her blonde haired, blue eyed roommate. He smiled at her, but considering the two of them weren't on the best of terms, she sent him a disdainful glare before stomping out of the door past them, leaving the door open for them to enter.

"Ooh, rejection," Guy muttered. Marshall elbowed him in the ribs before walking into the small dorm room, flopping down on his cousin's bed.

"Your roommate doesn't like me still," he declared with a dramatic sigh. Marceline sat crosslegged beside him, though since he took up most of the room, she was rather close to the edge.

"She doesn't like anyone who isn't Finn," she pointed out.

"But still, it's not like I did anything to her."

"No, but your girlfriend, Lindsey, did."

"That was three years ago, and I had nothing to do with it."

"She told the entire school that Bonnibel hadn't been kissed before."

"I had no involvement whatsoever. It was three years ago, and I didn't even go to the damn school."

"Either way dude, should have stopped her." Marceline took a long swig of the alcohol Guy had handed her.

"She's not wrong, you know," Guy offered.

"Shut it, Kavalieris," Marshall snarled. He sighed and raked a hand through his unruly black hair. "Can I borrow your car? I think I'm gonna go home."

"What? No, dude, how the hell am I supposed to get home then?"

"Call me when you're ready, I'll come pick you up."

Guy sighed. "Yeah, you can take it. I shouldn't drive after this anyways." He threw the keys, and Marshall caught them, nodding thankfully before leaving the apartment.

Once he got home, Marshall was suddenly exhausted. He let Schwabl, his pitbull puppy, outside to use the bathroom before taking him back inside, flopping down on his bed in nothing but his boxers, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.