The Hangover, Part 1. (Phil Wenneck X OC.)

Chapter 5.

Phil, Alan, Brooklyn, and the baby boy were now sat together at a table by the pool, their  eyes covered in some form of sunglasses to hide from the blinding sun.

Brooklyn was doing her hardest not to let the contents of her stomach up, staring into oblivion behind her sunglasses. Meanwhile, Alan spoke up. "Hey Phil, look," he snickered, the baby's tiny hand in his as he lifted it repeatedly up and down, mocking as if the baby was jacking off. "He's jacking his little weenis."

Phil couldn't help but chuckle a bit before composing himself. "Pull yourself together, man."

"Not at the table, Carlos," Alan mocked as if he was scolding the baby, letting go of his little hand and leaving him alone.

Brooklyn's eyes were almost closed behind her sunglasses that she didn't realize she was beginning to lean to her right, nearly falling off the table if Phil hadn't caught her. "Woah!"

Immediately zoning back in, Brooklyn jumped in her seat. Her legs, feet, arms and hands jolting in the process. "Fucking Christ..." she muttered, removing her sunglasses and enveloping her face with her hands. Phil kept a hand on her shoulder just in case she began to fall again.

"You okay, babe?" He asked, the pet name only made Brooklyn's stomach feel queasier instead of fluttery, doing her best to hold it down. She slowly shook her head 'no'.

"I'm not fucking drinking another ounce of alcohol after this," she muttered into her hands. "Not even at my own wedding."

Again, hearing Brooklyn talk about marriage around Phil brought him even closer to breaking his composure and asking her to marry him on the spot.

Not now. She deserved better than that. So Phil shook it off as best he could before pulling Brooklyn's chair closer to his.

"Use me as a pillow, help keep yourself up," he offered, gently laying her head down onto his shoulder, carefully holding her small hand in his larger palm. "Let me know when you can't hold your stomach any longer."

"Thank you," she whispered to Phil, wrapping her other hand around his bicep for more stability as Stu returned to the table.

"I looked everywhere," he said, still holding his wrapped ice pack to his mouth with a worried expression. "Gym, casino, front desk. Nobody's seen Doug, he's not here."

"He's fine. He's a grown man. Seriously, Stu, you gotta calm down, here, have some juice," Phil said, handing Stu a glass of orange juice.

Stu took one tiny glance at the small cup filled with orange liquid before keeling over and vomiting onto the pool deck, to which Phil immediately covered Brooklyn's eyes and ears, gently turning her face away from Stu so she wouldn't throw up either.

But they both knew that the only way to help her feel better was if she threw up, but she didn't feel like gagging herself at the second.

"I can't have juice right now," Stu muttered weakly. Phil just shook his head slightly before leaving Stu alone.

"Okay. Alright, let's just track this thing," he began, flipping over a napkin and reaching for a pen already on the table. "What's the last thing we remember doing last night?" He asked.

"Well the first thing was we were on the roof," Alan began. "And we were having those shots of Jäger."

That brought Stu to gag again at the mention of alcohol, and that's when Brooklyn immediately jolted up from Phil's shoulder before leaning over the side of her chair. "That's it, that does i—," she didn't get to finish her sentence before her gag reflex got the best of her, causing her to throw up onto the pool deck like Stu minutes before. Thankfully her purse was on the table.