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The Drunken Half-crossover
a RW/HHGTTG semi-crossover from
the depths of Shala-chan's "Douglas Adams induced
insanity"
The city refused, most stubbornly, to stay still. Buildings wavered stunningly, as if seen through a candle flame or an immense heat wave. Considering that it was winter, Rowen didn't think so.
The bearer of Strata had just enough time to contemplate how thoroughly sloshed he was before passing out.
Sage felt his friend's increased weight as Rowen conked out. At least when he'd been conscious, he'd actually helped to propel himself a bit. Sage sighed.
"Better get you back to the hotel, Ro," he said, half to himself. He wondered what the blue-haired young man had had to make him so out of it. As far as he could tell, Ro had only had a few drinks. Then again, with all the stuff that people slipped into alcohol nowadays, he wasn't totally surprised.
For once glad that he was the designated escort
and Rowen-watcher for the evening, and not the one who'd have a
hangover when he woke up tomorrow, Sage kept dragging Rowen
across the streets.
When Rowen finally woke up in the hotel, it was at one o'clock in the afternoon, feeling like he'd had his brains smashed out by some sort of citrus wrapped around a rather large brick of gold. It was an odd feeling. He wasn't sure he'd ever recover.
There was a note from Sage on a tray along with some tea and crackers, assuring him that he had once again managed to get completely drunk once again. It also said that Sage had gone out for lunch and would be back soon. Rowen tried the tea. It was cold.
"Sage?" he called tentatively, wincing.
His response was the quiet appearance of his friend at the doorway of the bedroom. Once more, Rowen thanked his lucky stars that they'd gotten a suite. Sage walked over to him and felt his forehead for no apparent reason.
"Fine," he said softly, "I'll warm up that tea for you."
"No," Rowen croaked, "bathroom."
The blonde swordsman sighed, lifted him up, and half-carried the more hungover half of his heart to the bathroom. Rowen managed being thoroughly sick for a few minutes, then took some painkillers and went back to bed.
Sage gave Rowen one of the mints that the hotel staff thoughtfully left on unsuspecting patrons' pillows, and crawled in alongside him.
"What did you drink last night?" he asked. "You were more sloshed than I've seen you in awhile."
"Dunno," Rowen groaned softly. "That last drink really did it. That odd fellow ordered it for me."
"You mean the one who insisted he was from Betelgeuse and kept making fun of Albert Einstein?"
"Yeah. Anyway, he was the one who had me drink it. Said it was some Gargle-something or whatever." Rowen closed his eyes and attempted to rejoin the land of Nod.
"Gargle-something or whatever," Sage mused quietly. "Hey, Ro?" Rowen winced.
"Trying to sleep," he whispered. "Shush."
"I won't," Sage whispered back. "Do you think he could have slipped anything into your drink?"
"Who?"
"The guy."
"Nah. He had the bartender mix it himself and I got it straightaway. He couldn't 'a done anythin' to it."
"Sure?"
"Positive."
"Cuddle?"
"Gods, yes . . ."
Rowen finally fell asleep in Sage's arms, still exceedingly hung over. Sage decided against shifting position and blithely ignored the pins and needles sensation building in his left arm.
It's my parents' fault, and for once I can truly blame them for something. ^_^. But before we get to that, Ronin Warriors and Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters don't belong to me. Frankly, I don't think I'd want a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. And they go along with Ford Prefect, who is the one making fun of dear old Einstein in this fic. *cheers* Go Ford! Ford rocks! Anyway, they belong, repectively, to Sunrise and Douglas Adams.
Back to my parents being at fault . . . a while back they sent me this postcard from New York City, with the city all wishy-washy and wavy, like rain had gotten over the camera lens in an interesting pattern. They said that maybe it wouldn't be a good setting for a Sci-fi story, but perhaps a "fanfic." At the time, I had this odd desire to see Rowen hung-over and curled next to Sage (oh, like it hasn't happened before!) and I was on my "Let's reread the whole Hitchhiker's Guide series again" kick. Of course, I don't have the last book, so it's pointless, but I digress. Anyway, this twisted brainchild is what became of the merge of the three. I'm rather fond of it. *sniffle*
Also, you'll notice that for the most part, my nii-chans are referred to as friends. This is up to interpretation. I mean, they could have just started falling in love or something and neither knows how the other feels! Or not. I mean, I cuddle with my friends all the time! Except Ami-chan, 'cos she'd bean me. *growl* Or maybe I should just avoid all my friends altogether, hey?
As always, the talkative Shala-chan must © this fic Shala-chan 2000. How sad.