𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝙄𝙣.

Quality Time.

The first thing West saw when he opened his eyes the next morning was a caged chandelier hanging from the stark white ceiling.
A little to his left and he was blessed with the sight of an angelic Killian smiling down at him, unruly blonde hair sticking out in different directions. Somehow he still managed to look as radiant as ever.

"Were you watching me sleep?" He asked, his voice still sluggish from sleep.

"Yes."

West grinned at that, "Creep."

He sat up from the unbelievably soft bed to take in his surroundings, and was instantly hit with a blinding pain at the front of his head. If that was what drinking did to people, you'd think they'd stop. Some things were worth suffering for, but definitely not this.

He didn't recognize anything in the room, or where they were. The last thing he remembered was passing out in the backseat of his car after they'd left Killian's house. He'd been drunk, was it possible that they'd spent the night here together? Spent the night as in spent the night, quotation marks. He'd be really pissed at himself if he couldn't remember that.

"Did we... y'know?" He asked in a barely audible tone, like he was trying hard for the zero people in the room with them not to hear what he said.

"No, relax. I just bought you here so you wouldn't have to deal with Paul."

West stuck his head under the covers, and sure enough, his underwear and socks were still attached to his body. Relief washed over him.

"Are you guys naked?" A muffled voice asked from the other side of the door.

"No!" Killian yelled.

The raised voices made West reactively press his fingers against his temple, everything hurt. "Is that Simon?"

Once Simon confirmed that they weren't in the nude, he burst in carrying a glass with his special hangover cure; raw egg, two shots of tequila and tomato juice.
He stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on the two boys' bare chests. He didn't want to imagine what the sheets were hiding.

"I thought you said you weren't naked!" A hand flew to his face, and covered his eyes.

"What, you never seen a guy's chest before?" Killian retorted.

"Not my son and his boyfriend's, no."

West drew the sheets to their necks, a sigh escaping his lips, "We're good."

Simon uncovered his eyes, then approached the right side of the bed, "Drink this," He offered to West, "It'll make you feel better."

West's face twisted as he peered into the glass, it looked like something a dog had thrown up. Smelled like it, too. The stench of the tequila only put him off more. "I feel fine, thanks." He lied, "We'll be out of your hair in a minute."

"Oh," Simon said, a dejected feeling settling in, "You're leaving already?"

"We don't want to hold you up. Don't you have to go back to New York?"

"Not right now... I was hoping to spend a little time with you before I left."

"Oh."

"Unless, you two have other plans..." He trailed off.

West raised an eyebrow at Killian, a question hanging in the air.
Killian only shrugged.

"I guess we could stay."
--

"I'm sorry I wasn't much help last night. And, for getting you drunk." Killian expressed whilst the two were eating breakfast. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a few other unnecessary sides that the inn served every morning.