a mess to be made

That was the other thing. She could tell from the knocking inside of her head and the jelly that seemed to have substituted her limbs that she was still very much feeling the effects of the alcohol she'd had the previous night. And considering it looked like everything had a thin film of oil over it she wondered if maybe, maybe she was still a little high. Which meant running down the stairs and driving home was probably a really, really bad idea.

Justin stood by the kitchen island pouring himself a very tall glass of guava juice (it was after all not his fault that Brian had refused to buy orange juice before leaving for his business trip), focusing on the slightly pinkish liquid spilling into the glass. He didn't seem to notice Daphne's cross armed stance. Heck he didn't even notice when the juice reached the brim of the glass and as Daphne stood fuming he was on the floor, sloppily attempting to clean up the juice before it got stale and sticky.

Daphne rolled her eyes when she heard Justin starting to giggle.

"What's so funny?" The top of Justin's head was suddenly visible over the counter of the kitchen island, bobbing slightly from the bubbles of air escaping his lips and his hands appeared as he tried to pull his frame into a standing position, laughter still bouncing into the air. His cheeks were red and he seemed flustered, probably from the sudden burst of laughter and the pot that apparently was still in his system.

He attempted a stern face before saying, "The guava juice looks like a guava!" At which he completely cracked himself up and ended up disappearing behind the kitchen island again.

"You are so high. You don't even know what a guava looks like," instead of answering her Justin kept laughing and the tip of his feet appeared from behind the island as he sprawled out on the floor, his laughter fading but but echoing as the juice kept dripping onto the floor.

Daphne's stomach growled and she rescued the cordless from the juice that continued to eat away at the countertop, she was not about to join Justin on the floor with the only remaining edible thing - excluding the day old slices of lime and three quarter empty bottles of vodka and tequila scattered about - in the loft.

***

Justin let himself fall back onto the throw pillows, cigarette already in one hand as the other rubbed his forehead. His little nap on the kitchen floor may have gotten the pot out of his head but the floaty feeling that had resided there had been replaced by a hangover. And the pizza hadn't exactly helped. The sound of Daphne's chewing (and his own) had knocked it's way into his head where a steady pounding had now settled. Daphne tilted her head back and dangled one of the remaining pieces of pizza over her mouth before biting down and leaning back, letting her weight rest on her elbows. The pizza seemed to have done her good.

"You know," she started while still chewing, "I was going to storm out I was so pissed off." Justin snorted at her statement, sucking on the cigarette fastened between his lips as if trying to absorb all the nicotine at once. Replacing one high with another seemed like a brilliant idea.

"It's impossible to storm out of this place," he flipped over onto his stomach so he could face her, "Believe me, I've tried."

"Whatever, I still can't believe you wouldn't let me fuck the one straight at the party," the pizza crust she was just chewing on hit Justin's forehead before landing on the floor next to a full ashtray and an empty bottled of Jack Daniels.

"He was not straight," Justin picked up the crust and threw it back at Daphne. He'd aimed for her head but the dried piece of bread flew over her shoulder landing in her glass of water. It would have been something to be proud of if he'd actually been trying to hit the glass. "I don't think any straight guy would set foot in this place. Besides, he was totally checking me out."

"Well my lunges must be working since he obviously wanted my ass more than yours." She heaved herself from her spot on the floor, gathering the empty pizza carton and padding over to the designated garbage bag and dumping the carton in.

"Whatever."

Justin rolled back onto his back. He didn't particularly like the extent to which he could see the mess in the loft when on his stomach. Brian was going to kill him. He was just going to have a little party while Brian was away on business. It wasn't supposed to have spun out of control like that.

"Besides," he sighed heavily, "There's no way I would've let you have sex in his bed. He can smell straight sex. He would've blamed me for ruining his bedroom and that would be the kiss of death for my sex life." He could've added, 'for like four days', but he thought the prospect of never getting fucked by Brian again made his point much clearer.

"You do realize how crazy that sounds?"

"Daph, I swear. After...you know, our weirdness inducing sex at Deb's, he refused to fuck in the room. Even after the sheets had been washed!" Justin pointed his cigarette in Daphne's direction as if to add emphasis to what he was saying.

"You know I think that probably had more to do with the wallpaper than any lingering straight sex 'smell'. It almost felt like I was doing you a favor with those weird motorcyclists on the walls. And the flying comic book guys staring at me from the curtains." She started lighting up a cigarette of her own, "Heck why do you think I kept my bra on? Those things were creepy."

***

The sight that met Brian when he slid the door open was not what he expected. Bottles and glasses and plastic cups seemed to form a pattern on the floor. It looked like some sort of sick labyrinth where the walls consisted of sticky smelly green glass and ashtrays filled to the brink. He spotted Justin lying on one of the throw pillows in the middle of the room, as if he was the prize awaiting at the end of the labyrinth. His eyes were wide, he looked surprised to see him.

"You owe me at least five hundred blow jobs for this." Brian stepped carefully into the loft, jacket on his arm and eyebrows raised. "Daphne." He nodded in her direction and she brought her hand up, waving slightly. He felt something sticky under his shoe (not the good kind of sticky either) and he noticed a trail of guava juice on the floor. 10$ per fucking liter organic guava juice. "No, make that five thousand blow jobs. You're fucking lucky I've got a cleaning service."

"I...thought you were coming back on Sunday." Justin was completely dumbfounded, he turned to Daphne who was lacing her shoes with some difficulty. She must've not sobered up completely after all. "Daph, how long was I passed out in the guava juice? I could've sworn you said today was Saturday."

"Um...no more than half an hour," she avoided his and Brian's stare as she grabbed the jacket that looked most like hers in the pile of abandoned clothing, "And seriously Justin, I have trouble keeping the days straight with my day planner right in front of me, you really shouldn't be using me as a calendar when I'm hungover. Still drunk. Not of sound state of mind."

Justin rubbed his his eyes with his free hand as his jaw dropped open at his stupid mistake.

"That's right Sunshine, better start practicing." Brian planted a kiss on Justin's forhead and pinched his cheeks before sauntering into his bedroom to check the damage in there.

Daphne slid the door open and leaned in, "You know imaginary smells are a common side effect of brain tumors. Maybe he should see a doctor." She half-whispered before disappearing into the hall, pulling the door shut with difficulty.