oom: post-atlantean adventures

[puckishly]

Puck, who has woken rather early having frankly not slept all that much, prepares to greet the inevitable day.

Is this enough water?

He'd thought it was.

He does hope Havelock isn't cross.




... But if he is, it will likely be at least a little bit hilarious.

"And I wish to hear not a word from you," he notes to the portrait.

The painting sits balefully on the wall, keeping a sulky silence.

Comments

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock, epically drunk the night before or not, is a very light sleeper.

The headache really helps chase the sleep away too.



...Especially as his first thought is; where did I get this concussion and is the situation still dangerous?

He hasn't grabbed for a knife first thing upon waking for ages.

[puckishly]

The sound, soft though it is, prompts Puck to turn abruptly.

"Ah--"

Yyyyup. Still torn between sympathy and giggles.


Quiet, but pitched to carry, he says:

"Good morrow."

[oneman_onevote]

We can thank muscle memory for the speed at which the knifetip twitches towards Puck, because Havelock himself sure can't see well enough to aim right, just squinting against the light and shaking a little too much to be convincingly threatening.


After a moment he visibly wakes up in practise instead of just theory, lowers the knife, and drops his head back down onto the pillow.

This is as good as an acknowledgement, apparently.

[puckishly]

"Oh-- darling."

(Puck may giggle just slightly.)

Nevertheless, he appears a moment later at the edge of the bed, holding the strange cup with its handle and lid.

He stretches out a hand slowly to brush through Havelock's hair.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock is so glad that Puck's enjoying himself.



He makes a very faint sound of protest at... everything, but quiets when Puck's hand touches his hair.

(He very rarely drinks at all, let alone to excess.

A hangover this intense is a fun new experience!)

[puckishly]

Puck strokes his hair, humming an absent tune.

"I've brought you water," he murmurs.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock's shoulders heave in an apparent sigh before he bravely levers himself up once more, still bleary but far more focused.

"Please," he manages, a little hoarse from sleep and dehydration.

[puckishly]

Puck fiddles with the lid a moment before getting it.

He promptly proffers the cup.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock takes it with a slightly firmer hand than before, and rests it against the mattress for a moment as he steadies himself before lifting it up to take a long and grateful sip.

That should help the thirst.

Now for the exhaustion, dizziness, nausea, uncoordination and all-consuming headache.

[puckishly]

The fairy peers, making a gentle clucking sound.

"I could fetch you breakfast."

It'll take Havelock quite a while to return to normal, he thinks, Bar having been surprisingly reticent about dispensing miracle hangover cures.

Puck can speed the recovery process and still have ample time to find hungover Havelock perversely adorable.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock shudders visibly at the thought, despite knowing that it might be a good idea.

"No," he says, and continues drinking, slow but continuous until he is a good halfway through the cup, and then pauses.

"Thank you."

[puckishly]

Puck reaches out to stroke his hair again.

He's currently all out of good ideas!

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock is still thirsty, but waits to drink again in case his stomach picks now to rebel.

"So," he says, striving for humour, and mostly finding a sense of fatalistic dread, "Exactly how foolish was I?"

[puckishly]

Puck works very hard to keep his laughter to a manageable volume.

"You did speak most puzzlingly of penguins."

And making tests of Puck's strength.

And death, but that one's sort of par for the course with them when they've been drinking.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock, in deference to his effort, tries not to wince too obviously.

"Really? In what context?"

...Okay, more water might be safe.


Mmm.

[puckishly]

"You should know, not I."

Puck's fingers continue to brush through his hair, gentle.

It seems the best way not to interfere with water-drinking.

"You insisted they ought to be the equal to any bird or animal."

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock thinks.


For a moment.


Then he gives up.


"I am sure the logic will return to me," he offers weakly, and finishes his water with resolve.

[puckishly]

Puck pats his head gently-- veeeery very gently.

(And giggles.)

"It is never far from you for very long, I find."

[oneman_onevote]

"Where was it last night?" Havelock asks him, a little sourly.

Regreeeeets.

And pain. That too.

[puckishly]

The fairy glances shiftily to the side.

"Now, now, my love. That was hardly your fault."

Alcohol is a fiend!

[oneman_onevote]

And so is Puck!

Havelock accepts, however, that he is also a force of nature, and that accepting anything from him was a risk.

That doesn't actually help him now.

He closes his eyes against the light for a moment.

"I beg to differ," he says, still rather croaky.

[puckishly]

Puck bends to press a kiss to his head.

"Oh?" he whispers, considerishly.

"Do you mean to say you do not find me utterly, unjustly irresistible?"

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock glowers at him from beneath an impressive tangle of hair.

"O darling of my heart, some days it is the only thing that keeps me from despair."

[puckishly]

Puck pulls back eeeeever so slightly.



What did Havelock do with that knife?

No reason. Just, you know, his reflexes are rather good even in this state, and Puck would like to ensure that Havelock doesn't neither of them does anything Puck they will later regret.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock eyes him a severe moment or two longer, then ruins his forbidding exterior by rubbing a sleepy hand across his eyes.

"Next time you can drink something I make," he mutters.