Chapter Text
Consciousness does not return as a friend.
Good God, how did they get back to the hotel last night? Sniper honestly can’t remember, but here they are in their room in Vienna. Miraculous.
He’s in the bathtub. He doesn’t remember how they made it there, let alone how he ended up in the tub, fully clothed.
A quick glance at the toilet gives him his answer. Apparently he spent some time praying to the porcelain gods and never made it to bed.
Jesus fuck, the pounding in his head was threatening him with a repeat performance. Why did he drink that much? Vodka is not his friend, and he was not 20 goddamn years old anymore.
He doesn’t want to leave the tub. He wants to fill it with water and just soak. Clothes be damned. He can get new clothes. Ones that don’t reek.
"René," he croaks, embarrassed at exactly how trashed and pathetic his voice sounds. He doesn’t actually know if Spy will answer; if the man is in any sort of similar condition he could very well still be unconscious.
To his shock, Spy actually pokes his head in. The man has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and dark sunglasses on his face. He looks fucking miserable.
“Quoi?” He spits, and Sniper can tell he’s pissed. French means pissed.
"Th’ hell did we do last night?" He grumbles, not bothering to sit up. His legs are sprawled up on the tub edges and he knows he looks ridiculous.
"Nous avons consommé 6 litres de vodka. Ne me parlez pas. C’est de votre faute." He jabs a finger at Sniper and moves to sit on the floor, leaning his head against the cool tile of the bathroom.
"What are you mad at me for?"
Spy grumbles and makes a dismissive gesture. ”You were there, you were involved. This is somehow your fault. But my head is cracked open and I vomited my kidneys up this morning, so I can’t decide exactly how.”
"Be a love and get me a cool towel." Sniper whines, beginning to see the humor in two men in their 40’s nursing hangovers like teenagers.
"Be a love and fuck yourself." Spy pulls a cigarette out and lights it.
"Oy, get that out of here, you’ll make me chunder again." The smell hits his nose and he realizes it’s not tobacco. "Give it here." He holds a hand out blindly and Spy hands it to him after two lazy pulls.
It helps, but only a little.
"Hell of a way to start our honeymoon." Sniper murmurs.