Party Hard--Feel It the Next Day //Open/R for Lang

[Sumiko Airi Sato]

DESTINYemmalineWHITNEY

>>twetny>>loud>>crazy

rated r for language

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Dee-Dee brought her hand up to her head, already feeling the side-effects of one too many drinks from the night before. The one thing about partying she couldn't stand was the hang overs. They were always so bad, almost made her want to give up the partying..Almost. Since coming on tour with Keep It Caroline, partying and performing was all she ever did. Some would think that would get tiring, but not Dee-Dee, or really anyone else she hung out with during those wild crazy nights. Before her life was school on the weekday and party on the weekend. Never before had she just partied non-stop the way things seemed to be around here. Sure there was the practices the band called, but even those were like mini-parties, but with work. This was the last thing that her mother would want her to do, but as long as she didn't find out, it didn't hurt anyone. Or get pregnant, that would be very bad...

Dee-Dee shoved the covers off her practially naked self. She had a slim memory of actually stripping down to her bra and underwear. Most of her memory of the night before was bit on the fuzzy side, but considerably more clear then other nights. Most of what she did remember was her sitting in a large circle with other party-goers, playing one drinking game after another. She also remembered someone telling her that she'd probably had too many drinks. That she could easily believe. She always did. While she had a somewhat clear memory of slipping into bed, she had absolutely no idea how she had been returned to where she was staying. What she did know was that she didn't drive, and she only knew that because she didn't have a car at present, what with being on tour and all. Though she was a party hard person, Dee-Dee wasn't a slut. She didn't just go around sleeping with guys she didn't know, or even those she did know. There were only one or two that she actually slept around with, if at all.

She moved completely out of the bed, grabbed the advil that was on her bedside desk, and swallowed it. She made her way to the bathroom, planning to take a quick shower before heading down to get coffee, which she really needed. The shower was quick, more to wake her up then anything. She dressed in her sweats, not really feeling up to actually getting dressed dressed at present. Slipping on her flip flops, Dee-Dee grabbed her keys, put on her sun-glasses, and left the room. She paid very little attention to her surroundings as she made her way over to starbucks, a place she was becoming ever so addicted too. Walking in she ordered coffee, black. Strange for her, but all she needed was something very strong to help with the hang over. As she waited for her order to come up, Dee-Dee turned to watch the people coming in. Or at least that was how the others in the store saw it with her sun glasses on to cover up the fact that she had her eyes closed rather tightly.

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[Wes Jackson]

Internet connection. It had been a while since Wes had even seen his laptop. Looking for it in the caravan had been a moment of deep stress. Things were so messy in there, it had taken him the better part of an hour to find his bag. Thoughts of theft, followed by those of murder, had crossed his mind more than once. But it had turned up. Under someone's old The Who t-shirt and a few pillows. Wes had felt like kissing the thing. Yet, his computer was old and very beat up for someone who never used it much and it was the damn slowest thing in miles. Maybe that's why Wes didn't use it a lot, it sent his temper going that it took over ten minutes to open a site, let alone watch a video on YouTube or download porn. And yet, it didn't even occur to him to purchase a new, more efficient one. Why waste on something like that when he could be investing on his drum set, enhancing it?

Anyway, es grabbed the shit machine - let's call her Shitty - and headed for the nearest Starbucks. Internet connection. He walked while smoking a cigarette, taking his time, watching the dogs stick their noses in the garbage and enjoying the use of his old Eric Estrada shades. Walking was a pleasant thing to do. Wes not often realized this kind of thing but that day he did and made a mental note to take more walks.

The Starbucks, as usual, was fucking crowded. Wes groaned and hesitated a bit before stepping in, having to wait for a group of people to exit the moment he pulled the door open, like he was some of... doorman. Finally out they were and he managed to get inside and reach one of the only small tables left, not even big enough to place cup of coffee since the computer took up all the space.

Since he was there already and it smelled like coffee, Wes considered getting one, but the long line in front of the counter completely put him off. Bah. Anyway, all these flavours of coffee entirely confused him and even heroin was cheaper.

Perhaps he'd stand in line later.

Shitty took ages to start running. It gave Wes time to reconsider the queue, to massage his scalp and hair follicules out of nothing else to do and the fact that it felt good, to admire the cups on the shelves and several other things. When Shitty was finally going, he attempted to send an e-mail to his mother, which took another eon.

By this moment, Wes was so bored he started falling asleep against the window on his left. The weather was warm and the general buzz of conversation suddenly felt like a lullaby. He rested his head against the glass and told himself he'd close his eyes for a half of a minute. Only.

His arms relaxed and his legs stretched. The crap part is that they did in the exact moment that a person was attempting to get to an empty nearby table while balancing a croissant and a complicated-looking venti frappuccino. With Wesley's legs unexpectedly in the way to unintentionally sabotage her journey, both the drink and the food went hitting the floor.

"Fuck." Wes was fully awake once more. He stood up immediately and helped the woman attempt to recue the croissant. The coffee was inexorably gone. With an apologetic smile, Wes offered to pay for the ruined good, resigning himself to the unending queu.

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