🅈🄴🄻🄻🄾🅆 🄲🄰🄽🄰🅁🅈 🄱🄸🅁🄳 •Stanley Barber•

One Night Stan

Warning: Heavy implications of sex/sexual activity. Did I mention this fic will not have smut? Anyway, this fic will not have smut. :)

My mouth tasted metal and blood, and my tongue ran over a strange object in my mouth. I proved at it gently, only for it to scream in pain. My lip felt swollen and numb. It was enough to fully wake me up.

Once my eyes were open, my false sense of security disappeared. Someone was practically on top of me, and they reeked of booze and marijuana. I pushed them off of me, and sat up. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but I began to make out a large room, a record player, a closet. This looked like a goddamn bedroom.

The person besides me let out a sleepy murmur, and turned onto their back. I recognized him almost immediately.

"Fuck," I muttered. "Oh fuck fuck fuck."

I carefully took Stan's arm off of my lap, and slid out of the bed. A headache was beginning to blossom, but I pulled at my brain for a possible explanation to all of this. It was surprisingly cold down here, too, and I wasn't wearing a bra. I gently folded my arms over my breasts to keep them warm.

What had happened? Yesterday was Saturday, I knew that, which meant... The party. Right, that sounded correct. I had gone with Stan

(Stan who I was just with in bed, oh God)

and he drove me to the party in the suburbs. We had a drink, and we.... Danced? Yeah, that sounded right. That, I could remember clearly, watching him smile and laugh, even when I'd trip on his toes. But after that? Well, I had no clue. We probably drank a shit ton more, but then how did we get here, to... Stan's place? Why did he have such a big goddamn room?

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, and realized what I was wearing. The shirt touched my hips, and overlapped over a pair of underwear that definitely wasn't mine. I blushed, and silently looked around for my clothes. I wandered around the room, trying to find my own damn underwear, but nothing good was showing up.

And where the hell was my phone? If I didn't have anything to panic about then, I sure did now. I searched more vigorously, and found it charging on a table besides Stan's. Okay, that was good. Great, actually. I unplugged it, but its harsh light made me wince.

It took me a while to turn the screen light down so I could actually see it. The clock told me it was seven in the morning, and my lack of notifications meant that I mustn't have acted too stupidly last night.

Okay. This was.... This was fine. I could live with this.

(But could I? I mean, what had happened couldn't have possibly been consensual, but Stanley didn't seem like the type of person who would have done that to me maliciously. He must have been just as blackout drunk as I was. He was so sweet, and - no. Bad Kara. Don't talk about him like that.)

My stay was long overdue, but I knew I couldn't exactly walk out of here looking the way I did. I grabbed a pair of jeans and slipped them on, not really caring that they weren't mine. It had been years since I've had a clothing article that was 'mine'; everything I had was either Jacob's or Mom's.

I took note of the big front pockets as I slipped my phone inside. Without another glance at Stan, I found the stairs, and scurried my way up and out. I tiptoed barefoot across the living room, and found my shoes at the door. Finally, something that wasn't Stan's. I slipped them on just as fluidly as I slipped out the door.

It didn't occur to me until after I passed Stan's car that I was lucky Mr. Barber wasn't home. That would have been an entirely different story.

Maybe I should just quit my job so I'd never have to see Stan again. But then I'd have to see him in school for Junior year... Well, I could always drop out and live on the streets as a panhandler. I could make a career out of that.