The Hangover Annihilation

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"Lucille?" Stars, and rooftops, and gazing, and hugs. And, beer.
"Lucille?" Beer. Someone is sitting on my head. One blurry vision of Penny. Then black.
"Lucille, it's nearly noon," A voice is talking to me. It's not in my head. Another vision of Penny. I've opened my eyes. I groan.
"Noon?" I repeat.
"Yes, noon,"
"Noon,"
"How are you feeling?" she asks, sitting down on whatever I'm on. I thought she was on my head.
"Why do you ask how I'm feeling? I'm fine," I say. I jerk my head to the right only to feel an immense pain striking through it.
"Owh..." I sulk. I see a table. It's the one from the living room. So I must be on the couch. "Did I hit my head?" I ask. I'm so confused.
"Yeah, with alcohol," Penny states. I frown. "You're hungover, sweetie. You got puh-retty wasted..." she continues. I frown harder until it starts hurting.
"But why?" I ask.
"Raj,"
"Raj?"
"Raj,"
"Raj..." Ugh. He stood me up. Right. Well, he stood Leonard and Penny up too. Weren't they wasted?

"Maybe you should slow down on the beer, Luce," Penny said. Her and Leonard had given up their cuddly touchy-feely starpetting and neared me.
"I would," I said. "But I didn't bring them for nothing, did I? If they're too long out the fridge, they'll go bad..." I told them matter-of-factly.
"Uhh, okay," Leonard replied. "But I'm preeetty sure you went down and got more five minutes ago,"

Penny is making me a cup of tea.
"Penny?" I ask.
"Yes?"
"Who's sitting on my head, Penny?"
"Oh honey, drink this," she says as she places a cup, gently, on the table and helps me sit. The tea is good.
"I'm hungry," I tell her. She gets back up and goes rummaging in the fridge.
"Okay. We're officially out of food. C'mon," Penny grabs the cup and my arm.
"We're not going to Sheldon's, are we?" I ask, still wearing the blanket I slept with. "Please tell me we're not going to Sheldon's," Penny knocks on their door, summoning a painfilled groan from me, and it's opened by Leonard.
"Hi!" he says, and I hide my head in Penny's shoulder. "Sorry, hi," he whispers, and Penny guides me into the apartment. I remember their apartment.
"What's this?" another voice interrupts. Sheldon.
"Lucille is a little hungover," Penny answers.
"I thought you said you don't drink," Sheldon says, addressing me. He's sitting by the kitchen counter. I scoff at him, pulling the blanket further around my shoulders.
"Lucille is hungry, and I have work just about now, so I trust you'll take care of her," Penny tells the guys, and I realise that she's been dressed in work attire all along.
"Take care of her?" Sheldon sprouts. He looks horrified. "I can make people a cup of tea if they're sad, but even you beat me to that,"
Penny kisses Leonard, and she's out the door. Both Leonard and Sheldon turn to me and I force a smile.
"What do you want to eat, Lucille?" Leonard asks.
"I haven't had breakfast," I tell him, rubbing my temple.
"Breakfast?" Sheldon repeats, eyeing me. "It's 4,"
"4?" I ask. "Who starts working at 4?" I ask out loud, thinking of Penny, while I too go sit by the kitchen counter.
"That's a valid point, miss Davenport, but clearly nothing more than an attempt to derive attention from you just asking for breakfast at 4," Sheldon is looking at me without blinking.
"I'm sorry, Sheldon," I groan. "It's just that whenever I'm hungover - which doesn't happen a lot - I crave oatmeal," I tell him, looking back into his eyes apologetically. "I love me some oatmeal," Sheldon's eyes brighten.
"So do I!" he says. "Although it's not Oatmeal Day today..." He looks away with a dramatic turn of his head.
"Which day is Oatmeal Day?" I ask.
"Monday,"
"Can I please have oatmeal now too? I can even make you oatmeal on Monday," I tell him, my thoughts lingering on nothing but the oatmeal. Sheldon eyes me once more and struts his lips.
"Hmm," he considers. "Leonard?" he then calls, making me bite down on my lower lip in pain yet without taking my widened eyes of Sheldon.
"Yes?"
"Make Dr. Davenport some oatmeal," he says, and I smile in relief. "And while you're at it," he continues with a playful smile threatening to break loose, "make me some too,"

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