TM #161: The Morning After
Jan. 15th, 2007 01:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
r_vecchioThere's one good thing about January.
There's no blazing sun filtering through the curtains and burning your eyeballs when you've got the world's worst hangover.
...
There's no blazing sun filtering through the curtains and burning your eyeballs when you've got the world's worst hangover.
...
Fortunately for Ray, he doesn't have one.
He wakes up pretty slowly for him and peeks a tired eye open. Four hours of sleep will do that to a guy. He’s fairly quick in realizing he's in the hotel room. And he remembers how he got there.
Definitely not drunk then.
Shoving the sheets down a little, he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. Last night had been fun. From what he saw, Orlando had a great time and he had a fantastic time meeting the guy, oh yes he did. Probably acted like an idiot but at least he'd scratched the fangirling itch. And he'd stayed away from the bar, mostly, and could count the number of glasses of champagne he'd had on one hand. So apart from a lack of sleep, he's doing pretty good.
But something woke him up.
He stretches his arms above his head, feeling his muscles pull and then arches his back to tug his t-shirt down again.
Something had definitely woken him up.
Sitting up a little, he rests on his elbows, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand and stifling a yawn. He gave the room a distracted once-over. Everything looked in place. Really nice room too. Welsh has surpassed himself this time.
He swings his head towards the bedside table, and the room doesn't spin. Wow, he's really, really sober. Great.
09:37am.
Not so great. But he can't go back to sleep now. So he flops lazily for the phone and calls for room service to bring his some breakfast. Hey, he's here one day, it's not going to break the CPD's bank balance, is it? And as far as they know, he deserves it after working security all night. If security always entails enjoying the party from the INSIDE, he's going to look into getting hired out more often. 'Cause this hotel? Nice.
They tell him it'll be about twenty minutes until his food is ready. He mumbles some kind of thanks and figures he can shower before it gets here. He sticks one foot out of the bed and pulls it straight back in again.
Cold.
Bed. Warm.
He falters. Get up or stay in bed? He squints at the time. 09:44am.
Now see, if Ynez was in the bed with him, the solution would be pretty simple.
He falters a bit longer. Maybe that's what woke him up. Being in New York but not being with Ynez...
He reaches blindly over to the table, knocking the clock so it wobbles until he's got his cell in his hand. He's learnt from experience that the next best thing, when it comes to Ynez, is his phone. 'Cause that was Ynez at one point. No, Ray's not crazy. He knows what he means.
He punches her number in, has long since known it by heart, and drops back down onto the bed, cell to his ear, staring at the ceiling again.
He wakes up pretty slowly for him and peeks a tired eye open. Four hours of sleep will do that to a guy. He’s fairly quick in realizing he's in the hotel room. And he remembers how he got there.
Definitely not drunk then.
Shoving the sheets down a little, he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. Last night had been fun. From what he saw, Orlando had a great time and he had a fantastic time meeting the guy, oh yes he did. Probably acted like an idiot but at least he'd scratched the fangirling itch. And he'd stayed away from the bar, mostly, and could count the number of glasses of champagne he'd had on one hand. So apart from a lack of sleep, he's doing pretty good.
But something woke him up.
He stretches his arms above his head, feeling his muscles pull and then arches his back to tug his t-shirt down again.
Something had definitely woken him up.
Sitting up a little, he rests on his elbows, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand and stifling a yawn. He gave the room a distracted once-over. Everything looked in place. Really nice room too. Welsh has surpassed himself this time.
He swings his head towards the bedside table, and the room doesn't spin. Wow, he's really, really sober. Great.
09:37am.
Not so great. But he can't go back to sleep now. So he flops lazily for the phone and calls for room service to bring his some breakfast. Hey, he's here one day, it's not going to break the CPD's bank balance, is it? And as far as they know, he deserves it after working security all night. If security always entails enjoying the party from the INSIDE, he's going to look into getting hired out more often. 'Cause this hotel? Nice.
They tell him it'll be about twenty minutes until his food is ready. He mumbles some kind of thanks and figures he can shower before it gets here. He sticks one foot out of the bed and pulls it straight back in again.
Cold.
Bed. Warm.
He falters. Get up or stay in bed? He squints at the time. 09:44am.
Now see, if Ynez was in the bed with him, the solution would be pretty simple.
He falters a bit longer. Maybe that's what woke him up. Being in New York but not being with Ynez...
He reaches blindly over to the table, knocking the clock so it wobbles until he's got his cell in his hand. He's learnt from experience that the next best thing, when it comes to Ynez, is his phone. 'Cause that was Ynez at one point. No, Ray's not crazy. He knows what he means.
He punches her number in, has long since known it by heart, and drops back down onto the bed, cell to his ear, staring at the ceiling again.
