FicWad

I woke up to a dull humming noise. Well, it might have been the gross sound in my throat, which I then realised was a shit-load of flem that made a weird noise when I breathed.

Or, it could have been the buses engine.

I didn't dare open my eyes, from fear of being blinded by horrendous morning rays that screamed 'Suck shit! Bow down to me!'

I shivered. One of those early morning shivers that get you in the mood for more sleep. Blindly grasping for a source of envelopment, I grabbed something warm and threw it over myself.

It was an odd piece of material. If it was a blanket, it sure as hell was a weird one because it was long, weighed a fair bit and was shaped like an arm that instantly curled around my waist and pulled me towards it.

I didn't yelp or pull away as, who I figured was Pete, pulled me to his chest, burrying his face into the back of my neck and hair. He let out a cross between a growl and sigh.

"Morning", he mumbled, his hot breath tingling over my skin.

I slowly opened one eye, daring the sun to take me own. Thankfully, the blinds were down.

"From the looks of it," I said back, my voice slightly rusty, "it's early afternoon."

"My head hurts."

A small laugh escaped my lips as I pulled myself away from him, turning and sitting Indian-style. Pete was laying on his back now, a hand resting on his stomach and the other behind his head. His eyes were closed.

Thank god, because what saliva I had left in my mouth was dribbling down my chin.

"Fuck," he mumbled again and was rubbing at his eyes, "how much did we drink?"

I rubbed at my head, scanning the vast area of the bus. There were bottles all over the ground, a Twister mat and spinner on the couch and I could see only one of my Ugg boots.

"From the looks of it," I began but stopped for a moment as I noticed his lovely eyes gazing intently at me, "everything."

He continued to look at me. Pete's eyes we're still lined with black, only now smudged to the extreme. None the less, he looked fine. What he said next, caught me off guard.

"You have sex hair."

My mouth fell ajar, a small gasp. I then frowned at him and said, "Do not."

He smiled, "You do."

I grasped the edge of the couch, pulling myself up - staggering - and looked at my reflection on the TV. It was messy.

I looked back at him with indignant stare, "Ok, maybe a bit."

He grinned, that boyish, charming smile.

"Ha, bloody ha, Pete," I sat down next to him, "don't get any ideas."

He wiggled his eye brows at me, "You see, that might have been a helpful thing if you told me that YESTERDAY."

I playfully hit his arm, and he chuckled, only then to replace it with a groan and rolling into a ball.

"You okay?"

He mumbled a long line of words and I replied with, "Yeah...um...what?"

He lifted his head, "I feel yuck."

"You look yuck." Lie.

His eyes lifted to my face, "Least I don't got sex hair."

Ok, it's on.

"Least I don't wear chick jeans."

Good one!

"Least I look BETTER in chick jeans!"

Dammit!

I playfully glared at him, "You, my dear Emo-like friend, suck."

Pete shrugged, well, if a person CAN shrug when they're lying down, and pulled himself up so he was leaning against the couch. He rubbed at his eyes again and when he opened them, he blinked like a little boy who wakes up on Christmas morning - large, watchful, glinting eyes.

I stood up, walking to the fridge and grabbing some water. I hate water. I don't know what it is, but I can't stand the taste.

"Water doesn't have a taste", Pete said to me only moments later as he happily drained the bottle.

I shrugged, "I can taste something, and I thoroughly dislike it."

He offered me the water bottle and I declined, in which he said, "Just take a sip."

I shook my head, "Nah, seriously, no thanks."

Pete edged the bottle towards me, "Please, just have a bit. Trust me, it'll taste good."

I furrowed my brow at him, "You probably did something to it when I looked away."

He smiled, "I didn't, promise. Look -" he drank some, swallowed then said, "nothing! Please, just drink some."

I sighed then nodded, "Fine."

Lifting it to my lips, I paused and looked at him with a suspicious glance, "You promise there's nothing wrong with it?"

He nodded, "Cross my heart."

I stared at him a moment longer before putting my lips to the bottle, took a swig then swallowed. A cooled taste lingered in my mouth, like chilled cream.

I handed the bottle back. Pete was still smiling.

"See? It tasted good didn't it?" He asked after taking another drink also.

I shrugged, "I guess. Maybe some of the water I rarely ever drink is just shit water."

He grinned.

I pursed my lips at him, "You DID do something to that water, didn't you?"

Pete merely smiled.

"What did you do to it?" I asked, now sitting on my legs so I was at his eye level.

"I spat in it."

"WHAT?"

He laughed, "Nah, I didn't. I'm just shitting you. Don't worry."

I sank back onto my backside, smiling but still mock-glaring. "I bloody hope you are!"

He shrugged, "Well, it did have my saliva on it."

"You know, girls would fight to the death to drink from that bottle and here you are," I made a gesture with my hands, "tricking me like a little boy!"

Pete smiled, pulling his hood over his head.

"I am a little boy!"

I stood up, stretching to my full length and letting out a sigh. His eyes trailed up my body, I could feel it. I turned on heel and headed towards the back of the bus to get some change of clothes.

Just as I reached the doorway, I called back, "If you were a little boy, you wouldn't be staring at my ass."

I felt his cheshire grin gleam back at me, the words only faintly coming out of his mouth as he said, "I'm never drinking again."