9. Hangovers

Chapter nine

Hangovers

In Oliver's nearly twenty-seven years of life, he had never been this hungover. His pulse pounded behind his eyes like a foreign explosive hellbent on obliterating his brain. His stomach couldn't decide whether it wanted to shrivel up and die or evacuate from his body in a violent and disgusting manner.

And the dry mouth. Oh god, the dry mouth.

How was it possible for him to constantly be swallowing saliva and still have a desert-dry throat screaming for rain.

Someone was breathing heavily behind him. Someone else was snoring aggressively in front of him. There were other sleepy noises too, little hums and snorts and shifting of bodies. Oliver couldn't remember where he was or how he'd gotten here. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this torment.

All he did know was that he wanted to die.

He groaned, and the person behind him pressed their face harder into his neck, murmuring nonsensically. When he tried to open his eyes, shards of light pierced his retinas with so much savagery he whimpered and squeezed them shut again.

After an indeterminable amount of time, he tried again, peeling his sandpaper lids open millimeter by millimeter. He saw Toni's fin first. The demon was sprawled across the bed, facedown, fin in the air, and naked save for a pair of tight boxer-briefs. The hostility of his snores was offensive, and Oliver wanted to kick the star-fishing demon.

He couldn't because his entire body was trapped in dark gray limbs. Gem was literally wrapped around him like a vise, moist breath and drool moistening his skin. They both teetered on the edge of the mattress, driven away by Toni's spread-eagle limbs.

Judging from the soft, downy fuzz rubbing against Oliver's back, both he and Gem were shirtless. Thankfully, Oliver was still wearing his underwear. He couldn't tell if Gem was, though. He decided maybe it was better not to know.

Lifting his head was a monumental feat, but he managed it for a few seconds. It was long enough to spot Rusty curled up on the foot of the bed, still fully clothed, hugging his fluffy tail to his chest as his head rested on Gem's calf above a thick, fuzzy sock.

Past the floral, somewhat sheer room divider, Oliver spotted the top of Jude's curly hair over the armrest of the couch. A branch-like leg hung over the back of the couch, where Oliver assumed Willow lay. Zef was curled up tightly in the large armchair, wings fluttering every few seconds as they dreamed. He didn't know where Tad had ended up.

Lowering his head back to the pillow he and Gem were sharing, he closed his eyes and begged his stomach to calm. He didn't think he could escape Gem's hold fast enough, and he didn't want to barf all over Toni. Plus, he wasn't even sure where the closest toilet was anyway.

Okay, no thinking about toilets or throwing up.

To distract himself, Oliver took several deep breaths and filtered through the broken memories from the night before. He remembered the drag show and Jude doing a shot off an Orc's drag bosom. He remembered the drinks, and then later, the shots. He even remembered the horribly humiliating exchange with a stranger on the sidewalk when Gem had, perhaps forever, crushed any hope Oliver had of having sex ever again.

But after that, things got… weird.

When they'd arrived back at Gem's apartment, Oliver had hit the liquor hard. He drank some sort of demon vodka until the embarrassment finally faded to the back of his brain. Then they'd played a demon game reminiscent of charades, but they'd all been too drunk to be any good at it.

Then Oliver and Jude had sung the entirety of It's Raining Men with Zef, for some reason. They'd wanted to prove that they could be the Mantodea's new backup dancers or something? He couldn't quite remember.

Jude had shown off his top surgery scars and the tattoos framing them. He'd opted for a nippleless surgery, which had led to everyone comparing who in the room had nipples, and who didn't.

Oh poor Rusty. They'd pestered him until he'd parted the fur on his chest to "prove" that he did, in fact, have nipples. The nippleless crowd outnumbered the nippled crowd, which had mattered greatly at the time.

"No nipples for the win!" Gem had crowed, then he and Toni proceeded to chest-bump aggressively.

"If Glyma and Quin were here, we'd be tied: five-five," Willow had chimed in.

Gem had covered his ears with a, "Ew, don't talk about our bosses' nipples!"

At some point, Zef, Jude, and Willow had entered into a drunken, but somehow very intense, conversation about gender and sexuality. Which led to Jude pulling out his packer.

"Whoa, removable cock. That's sick!" Toni had shouted.

Jude had nodded drunkenly. "I know!"

This, of course, sparked Zef's curiosity, and they'd inspected the packer quite intently. They spoke at length with Jude about his transition, and by the end, much to Oliver's shock, Zef had reached out and pressed the pads of two fingers briefly to Jude's shoulder.

Toward the end of the night, Gem and Toni reenacted a musical dance number they'd choreographed for a school talent show when they were teenagers. Granted, they couldn't agree on the order of the choreography, so the performance had left much to be desired, and Oliver was pretty sure Gem had somehow sprained an ankle.

And Tad… had set something on fire, though Oliver couldn't remember what.

All this remembering was making his headache worse, so Oliver turned his face into the pillow that smelled like coffee beans and cinnamon and drifted back to sleep.

When he woke again, the sunlight streaming through the windows was at a different angle against the wall, and he was no longer trapped in the bed by Gem's limbs. Toni was still unconscious, snores sawing through the room, but Gem and Rusty were both gone. He heard shuffling and whispers, and he smelled the spicy tobacco from Rusty's hand-rolled cigarettes, so he assumed the raccoon demon was still in the apartment.

Carefully, so as not to fall off the edge of the bed he so precariously balanced on, Oliver managed to sit up. His stomach gurgled, and he swallowed thickly.

From here, Oliver could see Rusty standing by an open window, lit cigarette dangling from between his lips. Gem leaned against the wall behind him, mouth moving, though Oliver couldn't hear the words. Rusty's ears swiveled, clearly listening to the spider demon behind him, but he didn't respond, eyes riveted on his phone screen.

Gem's upper hand snapped above Rusty's head, and he tilted it back, angling the cigarette so Gem could pluck it from between his lips. Gem brought it to his mouth and took a few drags, inclining his head to send the smoke out the open window, before he tucked the cigarette back between Rusty's lips. Throughout the whole exchange, Rusty stared at his phone, but Gem was staring at Rusty, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

As he shoved off the wall, he ran a gray hand through the fur on Rusty's head between his ears, and the pink demon's tail perked up, whiskers twitching. That smile on Gem's face grew, even as Rusty hunched his shoulders higher, typing furiously on his phone.

A shower was running, and judging from the empty armchair where Zef had been sleeping, Oliver assumed they were the one in the bathroom. He took a whiff under his arms and grimaced. He smelled like alcohol sweat and stale liquor. Hopefully he could steal a shower when Zef was done.

As Rusty crushed the end of his cigarette against the brick outside the window, his pale eyes met Oliver's. He lifted his chin in question, and Oliver sea-sawed his hand in answer. Wordlessly, he pointed toward the end of the bed, and Oliver scooted down, spotting a bucket.

He offered Rusty a thumbs-up, which the demon returned. Then he brought the bucket to his lap and hugged it close.

When he was ninety-nine percent sure he wasn't going to hurl, he slowly stood up and shuffled into the main living area of the studio apartment. Jude and Willow were passed out on the couch, and Tad was curled into a ball on the coffee table, covered by a charred hand towel.

Oh right, she'd set a towel on fire because she wanted to test the human stop-drop-and-roll protocol. Gem had not been pleased.

Coffee percolated in the kitchen where Gem stood, staring at the slowly filling pot like an addict awaiting their next fix. Oliver gradually made his way across the apartment until he stood beside Gem, still embracing the bucket.

"Hey," he said, voice hoarse and full of gravel.

"Hey," Gem croaked back.

"You got anything to eat?" Rusty asked, and Gem grimaced.

"Shh! Don't talk about food or eating. On second thought, just don't talk." Gem rubbed at his temples. "It's literally taking everything in me not to hurl into my kitchen sink right now."

"Oh god, don't talk about hurling." Oliver hugged his bucket tighter. "Then I'm gonna hurl, and I'm not sharing my bucket."

Gem's normally dark gray complexion paled to a more ashy color. "Shared puke bucket? Sounds like a very upsetting porno."

" That's where your mind went? First thing? What kind of porn do you watch?" Oliver demanded, horrified.

Waving a flippant hand, Gem swallowed convulsively. "First off, I might be a kinky bitch, but vomit's not my fetish. Secondly, don't judge me. I'm a man of versatile taste."

"I don't think any of us want to know about your versatile tastes, Gem," Rusty grumbled as he tucked a freshly rolled cigarette into the thick fur around his ear for safe keeping.

"Why? Because you'd be so turned on?" Gem attempted a sultry smile but was interrupted by a vile, acidic burp exploding from his mouth. He pressed two fingers to his mouth and whispered, "Excuse me," in a dainty voice.

Oliver grimaced at the sour stench, and Rusty blinked, expression entirely flat as he said, "Yeah, you got me there. That was real hot."

"Thank you," Gem tittered.

Rusty rolled his pale, pink eyes and mumbled what Oliver assumed was a demonic curse under his breath. Thankfully, the coffee machine beeped, belching out one last splutter of coffee into the pot, and Gem moaned in relief as his hands moved in a flurry, retrieving, then filling several mugs.

One-arming the bucket, Oliver took the offered coffee with his free hand and cradled it close. Gem added a splash of cream to another mug and held it out over Oliver's shoulder. A green, four-fingered hand appeared in his periphery to take it, and Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Where did you come from?" he demanded, and Zef blinked their milky eyes at him.

"The bathroom." They tucked their long, damp hair behind their pointed ears with their lower hands as they cupped their mug in their top hands, sipping cautiously at the coffee.

A low, pained groan sounded behind them, and everyone turned toward the couch. Willow was awake, blinking lazily at everyone as Jude slowly sat up, face pale, mouth pinched.

"I feel like I died," he wheezed.

Oliver shambled over and offered Jude his mug. "Coffee?"

"God, yes. I'd literally blow you for it."

"Not necessary," Oliver snorted, waiting until Jude had a good grasp on the mug before releasing it.

"Who's blowing who?" Gem asked, already pouring another cup for Oliver.

Jude swallowed his coffee and moaned. "I'd literally blow everyone in this room for an aspirin."

"Slut," Oliver teased, and Jude flipped him off.

Reaching into the deep pocket of his baggy jeans, Rusty pulled out a foil packet and popped two pills from it. "These are free. Please don't try to blow me," he said as he pressed them into Jude's palm.

"Aw," Gem cooed. "He's like our mom."

"Oh my god, he's such a mom," Oliver agreed.

"He did take care of everyone last night," Zef added.

Willow hummed and tucked her hands under her head. "It was very sweet."

"Ew, I did not," Rusty snapped, scowling at them. "Ya'll were just drunk idiots."

"No, you're a mom. You like taking care of us," Gem crooned in a baby voice as he poked Rusty square in the chest. "Because you're a big, ol' softy deep down in that black soul of yours."

Moving too fast for Oliver to track, Rusty captured Gem's hand and twisted it, sending Gem to his knees with a piercing, falsetto squeak. Everyone covered their ears against the shrill cry as Rusty growled out, "Don't touch me."

"Ah, not my favorite masturbation hand!" Gem whimpered.

With a gag, Rusty released him. "Oh my gods, gross!"

"Dude, I really wish I hadn't heard that," Jude lamented.

"I think we all wish we hadn't heard that," Oliver corrected.

"I, too, wish to delete that knowledge from my consciousness," Zef said miserably.

Rubbing his wrist, Gem climbed to his feet and glared at them. "Oh grow up! We all masturbate." He paused and cocked his head at Zef. "Well, except for Zef."

"But we don't want to know which hand you use, Gem," Rusty snapped, wiping his palm on his jeans. "Does anyone have hand sanitizer on them?"

Offended, Gem crossed one pair of arms over his chest as another set fisted on his hips. "I said it's my favorite hand, not my only hand. I switch it up all the time."

"Would all of you shut. The fuck. Up!" Toni snarled as he stumbled into view, leaning heavily on the accordion room partition.

His bluish-gray skin was covered in a film of sweat, and the gills framing his bobbing throat flared as he panted. He glowered at each of them in turn before a dangerous gurgling noise rumbled from his gut.

"Fuck me," he gasped before he scrambled toward the bathroom.

"Oh no," Gem said, covering his mouth with his hand.

Violent, wet retching filtered from the bathroom, and Oliver's stomach somersaulted. He shoved his mug into Zef's hand as he clutched the bucket desperately. Jude looked green. Gem gagged.

"Shit," Oliver whined. Then he hunched over and threw up into the bucket.

"Get ready, Ollie," Gem whimpered. "We're about to star in an upsetting porno!"

"What?" Ollie choked out.

Yanking the bucket out of Oliver's hands, Gem puked into it. Jude sprinted into the kitchen and heaved into the sink as Willow covered her ears, rocking back and forth in the fetal position. Zef's wings fluttered anxiously as they strode purposefully to the bathroom.

There was the sound of a scuffle, then Toni said, "Dude, what the fuck?"

Then more vomiting.

Rusty stood near the open window and lit up another cigarette, taking a long drag. "We need so much sanitizer."

And throughout the whole ordeal, Tad slept peacefully.