♡: Accidentally falling asleep together
So maybe she drank a little too much. Henrietta curls up, making herself look even smaller on the sofa, and she rests her head on its arm. Nope, she’s not feeling nauseous. Not at all. Not right now, in a room full of people that, while far gone themselves, are in definitely better shape than she is. At least they can stand up on their own.
(Although Freddie might be giving the wall way too much credit when it comes to supporting his weight. Not that she’s going to say anything about it in her condition.)
She groans miserably, not even bothering to look up, and that’s saying something considering the most adorable boy in this side of the Pecos has just plopped down beside her. Not that she knows where the Pecos even is, but, hey, it sounded cool when Yosemite Sam said it and who is she to question his impressive moustache?
Yep, she’s definitely had way too much to drink. Why did nobody stop her, again?
Ashton laughs quietly and it’s a nice sound, she thinks, because she hasn't heard it in a while, not since he and Giaan broke up, and she’d like to hear it more. Also, Ashton and Giaan broke up.
“‘S not funny,” she mumbles.
”It’s definitely not,” and now she can practically hear the laughter in his voice alone and she should be annoyed and a little worried because she’s going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow (it’s okay, she’ll nurse it with Freddie like they always do), but she can’t bring herself to feel any of that because Ashton is definitely single and laughing.
”Why are you still sober?”, she complains, like it’s his fault that she’s there with her stomach churning and head swimming and, you know what, it kind of is. Like, how dare he just come up to her, all sober and single and not-in-pain, and rub it in her face how not in a relationship he is?
Wait, okay, she should've probably rejected the last couple of shots because she wouldn't be having those kind of bitter, cranky thoughts if she were completely conscious and not all woozy.
”Am not.” To prove his point, Ashton chugs what’s left of his drinking and, goddess, she feels even worse than before. He had to do that on purpose, but at least he seems to take some pity on her because the next thing he says is: “C’mere.”
And then he pulls her closer into a nice little cuddle and c'mon, he’s very single and she loves cuddles, especially when she’s feeling so exceptionally miserable, so who is she to complain? Not that she’s going to giggle like a delighted thirteen year old she feels on the inside, because he hasn't been single for that long either and taking advantage of this might be tacky so yeah, she’s just gonna take what she can get for now without pushing her luck in the process.
Or at least that’s what she intends to do.
But then he starts rubbing her shoulder, which he may intend as a comforting gesture but all it does is make the butterflies start a rave in her stomach and that’s not going to help with the nausea at all, so she can’t help but melt in his frustratingly oblivious arms.
”Are you okay?”, she asks quietly.
Ashton pauses and Henrietta swears she’s going to whimper in protest, but that’s too pathetic even for her drunken, not-at-all-there self. After an uncomfortable silence, he resumes the movement with a heavy sigh.
The breakup is clearly weighing on him and Henrietta’s tried her best not to take sides or get her hopes up, but sometimes, when her guard is down (like now), she rejoices quietly and thinks that maybe she could have a shot and maybe she’s not going to miss her chance a second time.
But then he sighs like he just did or he lowers his eyes like he’s doing now, and she feels bad for privately celebrating something that has clearly devastated him. (Not that Giaan has been faring so well either. Evidence A: she’s not at this party and she’s probably baking comfort cupcakes with Eileen).
”Getting over people is hard,” is all Ashton says and now he’s nuzzling her and her no, bad stomach, no backflips when your friend is feeling bad emotionally and you’re feeling bad physically.
”Tell me about it,” is all she offers because, in her state, she fears what might leave her mouth.
She once asked Freddie whether she should tell Ashton what she felt, a little after two weeks of The Breakup. Freddie had never been a fan of her crush and still wasn't, but he knew how to put his objections aside and give advice when he saw she really needed it. “So, um, now that he’s single… What do I have to lose, right?”, she’d tried laughing but Freddie only frowned at her, giving her his trademark ‘you’re-not-being-serious-but-I-am-and-this-is-a-serious-situation-also-I'm-a-buzzkill’ look.
”And what are you going to say, hm?” Freddie had gone back to his homework, sounding a little weary like he knew he’d have to talk her out of this at some point. “‘Hey, Ashton, so I know you've seen me as your friend for a long time now and I've made absolutely no moves on you, and you think of me as completely non-sexual and probably a safe space in spite of me being your ex’s best friend, but I kind of been dreaming about your dazzling eyes ever since we met, so go out with me maybe?’ That’d be smooth; you should try it.”
The jerk hadn't even looked at her. And now that she thinks about it, he didn't even change his tone once.
So yeah, now that she’s drunk and cuddling with Ashton (who is also drunk and still very single), Freddie’s voice is the only thing that’s stopping her from gripping Ashton’s shirt and kissing him senseless. “Why couldn't it have been you?”
And, okay, great, her heart stopped. “What?”
”It should've been you,” Ashton slurs. “You’re, like, my best friend and you get me, right? Dating you would’ve rocked and I wouldn’t be feeling like shit right now.”
He’s drunk. He wouldn’t be saying that if he wasn’t.
But, most importantly, Ashton is very, very drunk and so is Henrietta so when she thinks of something sensible to say, she has to think about it for a long time. “You don’t mean that.”
”Shhhh,” - Ashton clumsily pats her head - “just go with the flow. I’ll feel better.”
How can she argue with that? That was almost as convincing as Yosemite Sam’s moustache. “You’d break up with me,” she teases, but she knows the only reasons he’s not picking up how much the thought kills her are that his mind’s too hazy and her tongue’s too heavy to convey any kind of hurt.
”I’d put up with the plants.”
”I’m serious! I’d plant you a garden.”
”… I’d probably have to learn how to plant a garden first, but yes.”
She hums and closes her eyes, resting her head on his chest and trying her best to remind herself that he’s joking and really, he doesn’t mean it, he’s just saying it to forget how much he loves Giaan for a little while.
”I’m so drunk,” Ashton laughs and he continues laughing for a while, more to himself than anything, and she’s glad, really, because it means he’s feeling a little better. But she’d rather he wouldn’t be suffering in the first place.
His laughter dies down eventually, gradually, and then his breathing starts slowing down so when a long time passes and he hasn’t said anything else, Henrietta opens her eyes and looks up at him.
Ashton has fallen asleep and he looks quite peaceful, all things considered, and she doesn’t feel as nauseous as before, so Henrietta has no problem in settling back down and closing her eyes too. Not that she would’ve had she been sober, but, thankfully, she’s not and it’s up to her future, hangover self to deal with the aftermath.