Note: I did not write this, credits to the writer
Summary: You and Chris broke up a few months back. You call him after a night out with friends and he offers her a ride home.
Warnings - language, alcohol
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You rolled over and groaned into your pillow. "Fuck." You sighed. Your head was pounding. How much did you have to drink last night? You're pretty sure you blacked out after the 3rd shot of tequila. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Taking a second before opening them. You quickly realized you weren't in your apartment. You looked around, realizing that you recognized this bedroom. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." You whispered, suddenly noticing you were only wearing one of Chris's shirts and your underwear. You frantically searched for your belongings, picking everything up off of the floor. All of the sudden, you were hit with a wave of nausea. You clamped your hand over your mouth, running into the bathroom and emptying your stomach into the toilet. Once you were finished, you took a second to rinse your mouth with his mouthwash and then searched through the medicine cabinet for the aspirin you knew was in there. You were interrupted by Chris knocking on the open bathroom door.
"Hey." He said quietly.
You looked over and saw his hands extended. One with a glass of water, the other with 2 aspirin tablets. You smiled softly, walking over and taking them out of his hands. "Hey..." you looked up at him. "Thank you." You downed the aspirin and chased it with water before walking out of the bathroom and sitting on his bed again. You took a second before standing quickly. "Fuck. I'm sorry." You blurted, picking your jeans up off of the floor.
He laughed at you while you struggled to pull them on. "No rush, Y/N. Take your time." He gestures toward the bedroom door, "I made breakfast. There's a fresh pot of coffee on, too."
"Yeah, no. Thanks for your hospitality but I won't be staying." You replied, pulling his shirt off and replacing it with your own. You sighed. It smelled like him. Something you'd been yearning for. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I just.." you hesitated. "I shouldn't have called you. Or texted you. Whatever I did to end up here."
He nodded slowly, "I don't mind.. you were pretty drunk. I'm glad you called."
You slipped on your shoes and looked up at him. "Did we..." you trailed off, glancing to the bed and then back to him.
He laughed, "God no. You couldn't even form a coherent sentence. You came in, pulled one of my shirts out of the dresser like you owned the place, stripped, and climbed into bed. Just like old times." He said, smirking. "Don't worry, Dodge and I slept on the couch."
You buried your face in your hands, your head still pounding. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry." You groaned. "Look, if you need me to like call your girlfriend and let her know nothing happened, I can. I'm sorry."
He looked at you with an eyebrow raised, "girlfriend?" He questioned.
You nodded, "yeah, I know you're seeing someone. I'm sorry to put you in this position." You hoped you were coming off as cool and nonchalant and he couldn't sense how much saying these things hurt you.
"Well, I appreciate the offer. But I'm not seeing anyone. There's no girlfriend." He replied.
"oh." You acknowledged quietly.
"Was this some sort of elaborate plan to figure out if I was seeing anyone? You could've just called and asked." He laughed.
You groaned again, feeling your face burn with embarrassment. "No, Chris. I don't even remember calling you." Which wasn't a complete lie. You did remember talking with him on the phone, but not dialing his number.
