Jul 27, 2013
+ demifloros
“Christ."
That was Steve’s first word the next morning when he woke up in the S.H.I.E.L.D. guest quarters with a splitting headache. All he remembered from the previous night was alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.
He’d hoped that after washing up he’d feel a bit better, but if anything, the lights just made his eyes hurt. Once he’d made it out into the corridor, it was already bustling with people, and he blinked several times, fighting a wave of nausea.
He stumbled into someone, causing a red-hot liquid to spill onto both of their shirts. Coffee? "Oh, sorry ‘bout that," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes again.
