A/N: Thank yoou to ImmaWriteOuttaHere for the awesome banner! its looks so tenchnoological i love it!

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Holy mother of crap, the pain.

I groan loudly as I roll over on the bed, clutching my head as my eyes begin to open awakening me from my slumber.

Slumber sounds like such a peaceful word considering I’ve woken up feeling rougher than Bobby Brown after a heavy night. My whole body was in pain. As I went to move, I felt a stinging pain on my lower back. Well, I say lower back, what I meant was the top of my ass.

My eyes slowly pry apart, my head pounding so much I genuinely hope I would just pass out again to avoid the pain. As the light flooded my vision, I realised I had no freaking clue where I was. I looked around the strange room, managing to process the fact I was in a motel room.

What a shit hole…

There were empty bottles and cans of beer everywhere, glasses scattered about everywhere, some half full, the majority empty. On the floor by the bed there was a deck of cards scattered about everywhere. I also managed to spot a traffic cone in the corner of the room along with a set of crutches.

Oh dear god, what the hell happened last night?!

I was still in my dress from the wedding, but I had no clue where my shoes were. I looked at the mirror by the wall and groaned again as I saw my reflection. I looked like a zombie. A well-dressed zombie with eye liner surrounding her eyes like Marylyn Manson. My hair was no longer the perfect beehive Lacey spent so long manufacturing, it was now hanging loose around my face, giving the ‘just got out of bed’ look a new definition.

I didn’t even bother getting the makeup off my face, and instead of trying to tame my hair I just ran a hand through it and got it out of my face.

I suddenly realised I had to find out where the hell we were and what the hell happened last night.

Oh, and I had to figure out where the hell Drake was.

The motel room was basic; it was a bed in the middle, which made me shiver as I thought about this show I once watched where they scan one of those CSI things that shows bodily fluids in public grotty motel rooms just like this one. That bed probably had so much semen in it I'm surprised if I’m not pregnant.

There was a dresser on one side of the room, currently covered in empty cups. As I walked closer towards it I furrowed my brows as I spotted the amount of tissue that was on the dresser. As I picked a bit of the tissue up, my eyes widened as I saw there was blood on it.

I suddenly began to panic as I saw the blood, needing to find Drake now more than ever. The images of him getting stabbed while wearing that stupid sombrero flashed my head, or maybe him falling off a truck and landing on a pile of knives. The panic inside of me right now was not causing me to think rationally I can tell you that.

After we both popped those freaking Mexican death pills, the night becomes fuzzy. I remember the majority of it before that. The whole Magic Mike re-enactment was clear in my head, the making out in front of about 100 cheering women was also clear. It was the events that took place after that that were a little hazy.

I stared at the tissue a little harder, noticing blood was not the only thing on it. I scrunched my face in confusion as I studied the black marks on it too. Was that…ink?

What the hell did he do, get stabbed with a fountain pen?

I threw the tissue down on the dresser and turned to make my way into the bathroom. As I flung open the door, I didn’t even need to switch on the light to see the lifeless figure sprawled out on the floor, his head lying right by the toilet. He was in his clothes from the night before too, his suit trousers half undone revealing his boxers from where he clearly went to the toilet and buttoning them back up was too much of a challenge. His shirt was undone, revealing his oh so hot body. Even with that little bit of drool by the corner of his mouth, the boy was still do able.

I rolled my eyes and tried to suppress a laugh.

Drake O’Connell ladies and gentlemen, in all his glory.

Actually, that brings me onto my next topic. I realised with the amount of making out we did last night in the bits I can remember, I needed to figure out if we did anything…further in the bits I cant.

I walked over to him and without a hesitation, I kicked his leg.

“Wake up.” I demanded, giving him another swift kick when the first one did nothing. He let out a moan, throwing his arm in the air trying to tell me to go away. His eyes were still closed however.

I turned to the sink and picked up one of the empty cups by it. I tipped out the beer that was in it, resisting the urge to throw up as the smell hit me and filled the cup up with water, before turning and proceeding to tip the whole cup on his face.

He shot up instantly, water spluttering out of his mouth as he let out a scream.

After a few second he calmed himself down.

“I thought I was drowning.” He breathed heavily, and I rolled my eyes. He screwed his face up as the pain of the hangover quickly caught up with him, and his hand nursed his head “Holy fuck, did I get run over last night?”

“That may well be a possibility. Get up I need to check you over.” I demanded realising I had to check what cut from his body the blood was coming from.

He took his head out of his hands and looked up at me with curiosity “Being run over would explain the headache.”

“No, the empty bottles of beer, Jack Daniels and Vodka would explain the headache.” I cleared up for him, and he nods his head telling me I have a point. With a lot of effort, he begins to get to his feet “Don’t worry, my head isn’t that much better. It feels like cavemen are hitting the inside of my skull with a wooden hammer.”

“Not a strong enough way to describe this…” he says in a pained voice as he stands up, turning so he is facing me. He looked a mess. There were beer stains on his white shirt, his hair was messy and he could barely open his eyes fully.

“Lift your arms up; I need to look you over.” I order him, and he furrows his brows again in confusion.

“Mia, normally I wouldn’t mind a bit of morning sex, but right now I don’t think I have it in me.” He explains with a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

I roll my eyes “Even hungover you think with your penis.”

He nods “Yeah pretty much.”

I glare at him, and he sighs before following my previous demand and lifting his arm up slightly allowing me to check him over. I move his shirt out of the way and look on his chest for any cuts.

He giggles and squirms slightly. I stare up at him like he is a freak.

“Your hands are cold.” He admits.

“Are you still drunk?” I ask in amazement.

“That is a possibility.” He confesses, and I shake my head at the moron.

“Does anything hurt?” I ask him, the confusion getting deeper and deeper as I see no cuts on him that would produce any amount of blood.

He shakes his head a little too forcefully, like a confused child.

“Is this actually going somewhere or do you just want to touch me up?” he asks with a smirk, and I don’t hesitate in slapping his bare chest at the comment.

I walk out of the bathroom, and just as I wanted he follows me out. I walk over to the dresser and pick up the bloody tissue, turning to him.

“I was trying to find where this came from.” I explain to him, and he scrunches his brows and walks closer, taking the tissue off of me and studying it.

“You sure it’s not you?” he asks.

I shake my head “I don’t feel any other pain apart from the standard hangover pain.”

“What’s the black stuff from?” he asks curiously.

I shake my head “I have no idea.”

He suddenly looks around the motel room, taking in his surroundings.

“Holy shit...” he drifts off as he takes in just how much of a dump this place is “…Why is there a traffic cone and a set of crutches in the room?”

I shake my head again “I have no freaking clue!” I suddenly become frustrated, annoyed at how I don’t remember anything I begin to pace the room “There is blood on a tissue, a disabled persons tools and a freaking item of the public streets in our possession. And to top it all off I look like I should be in the ‘Thriller’ video!”

I stop pacing and slump down onto the edge of the bed, flinching slightly as I feel a slight sting on my ass again. I hate hangover body pains.

Drake looks at the tissue in his hands, thinking hard. Suddenly his eyes widen as he looks at me.

“Oh my god, I know what happened.” He declares, and I look at him expectantly to fill me in “Well just look at the clues. Blood, crutches and a traffic cone. We clearly killed a disabled guy on a motorway.”

I have no words as I hear this explanation. I stare at him with no expression on my face, trying hard not to fly across the room and beat him with one of the crutches.

“And what about the black ink?” I ask, keeping my voice even.

He thinks for a minute before shrugging “The disabled guy was a pen sales man?”

I nod slowly, trying to find something, anything, to say to him right now with a calm tone.

“Drake, if you don’t want me to beat the shit out of you with a traffic cone, stop talking.” I tell him calmly. He nods too, probably realising his ‘suggestions’ of the nights events were not helping anything.

I run my hand through my hair, sighing heavily “Do you not remember anything from last night?”

“Bits and pieces. Most of it is a little sketchy.” He replies.

I let out a growl of frustration “I am in no mood to be acting out ‘The Hangover’ right now!”

“That’s it!” Drake suddenly exclaims, making me jump a little “Check your phone and see if you any texts that can tell us what happened last night.”

Drake’s suggestion knocks me back a little, amazed that he has actually come up with a pretty genius idea. Very un-O’Connell of him.

I find my clutch and pull out my phone and begin to look through it, but the only thing I had on it was 4 missed calls from Nate, 2 from Lacey and a text message from Nate asking me where the hell I was. I also had a voicemail from Lacey which said nothing but ‘Your brother is an asshole! Call me when you can.’

I suddenly remembered the whole Lacey and Nate disaster I may or may not have created with Nate and his date last night. I pushed that to the back of my head and realised I was going to have to deal with that when I got home. One crisis at a time.

I looked up at Drake who was looking at his phone “Anything?” I ask hopefully.

“My phone is switching on, this piece of crap passed out before I did probably.” He explains and I sigh. I decide to ring Nate back before the boy went full on parental and put a missing persons report out on me.

“Mia where the fuck are you?!” Nate’s voice yells through the phone after less than 2 rings. I hold the phone away from my ear slightly to avoid the yelling.

“Chill out I’m alive. Hungover like a bitch, but still breathing.” I explain to him, and I hear him sigh slightly in relief.

“Where the hell are you?” he demands “I waited up for you all freaking night, I even went to where I knew the wedding was, saw my car but you and Drake were nowhere in sight.”

“Yeah, we took full advantage of the free wedding bar.” I told him as if that should explain everything “Did you get the car?”

“Yeah I took it back this morning, Lacey doesn’t know where you are and even she is freaking out. Surprisingly, I’ve had to stop her from sending your picture off to the milk carton companies.”

I let out a laugh “We are fine, Drake is here-“

“Tell him I’m going to kick his sorry ass as soon as I see him!”

I raise my brows “Why?”

“Because he has been AWOL all night with my 16 year old sister!” he yelled through the phone like it was obvious.

“You have nothing to worry about, we just had a little fun-“

“That is exactly why I’m worried.” Nate’s voice is cold, and I suddenly feel a pang of guilt as I realise I was about to lie to my big brother.

“Get your head out of your ass Nate, nothing happened. We got drunk, stole a sombrero and passed out. What the hell do you take me for?” I lie fluently, pinching the bridge of my nose as I actually feel guilty for saying this.

I see Drake’s curious gaze on me as he has clearly figured out what my brother is suggesting.

There is a slight silence on the phone telling me he is not convinced. I suddenly realised I was going to have to up the stakes to make him believe me.

“Drake’s your best friend, do you think he’d do that to you?” I ask him, gritting my teeth slightly as I realise just how much I hate lying to Nate.

I see Drake’s jaw clench as he hears my words and the flash of guilt crosses his face, the realisation of what we had been doing hitting home hard. We were lying to someone we loved.

Nate sighs in defeat “Yeah you’re right. Look I'm sorry Mia, I’ve been going out of my freaking mind all night thinking you were both dead or something!”

“We’re fine Nate I promise. But I do need you to come and pick us up.”

“Okay sure, where are you?” he asks, and I can already hear him moving, no doubt heading out to his car right now.

“That is a good question…” I drift off as I remember I still have no clue where we are. I turn to Drake “Where are we?”

Drake shrugs, giving me the ‘how the hell do I know’ look. I sigh and turn back to the phone.

“Nate let me text you over where we are as soon as we figure it out okay?” I tell him.

“Fine, but hurry the hell up Mia. Just because I know you two haven’t been doing anything like that doesn’t mean I don’t owe both of you a beating for making me worry like a soccer mum.” And with that, he hung up.

I laugh slightly at my brother. I did love that boy at times, which is why I tried to ignore the guilty feeling that was spreading all over my body.

Drake looked at me, clearly reading my mind “He think’s we’ve been making babies does he?”

I breathe a laugh “Not anymore thank god.” There was a small silence before I realised I was going to have to ask the question that was weighing on me since I woke up this morning. “Drake, did we make babies last night?”

The laughter that came out of his mouth was so instant it made me jump a little.

After he had calmed down a bit, wiping tears from his eyes he finally replied.

“Oh fuck, that was priceless.” He breathed through the last of his laughter before looking at me with a slight grin “No Mia. I don’t think either of us were in any state to do the humpty hump. That I do remember.”

I shake my head with amusement at the name he and my brother had been using for sex since they were about 12. I felt relieved to hear that we didn’t cross that line. My vagina however was crying with disappointment.

“Making out is one thing, but once we cross that line…” Drake’s voice was suddenly serious, and I found myself agreeing with him. Sex could not happen between us. Sure, I have no doubt it would be mind-blowing, but it wasn’t an option. I just heard first-hand the heart attack Nate just had on the phone thinking that we had been bumping uglys. I could not put him through that. Drake couldn’t put him through that, it was his best friend. It was some sort of bro code that you do not mess with from what I gather from the male species.

“Yeah you’re right.” I agree.

I see the frustration in his face “I know I’m right. Fucking morals…” he mutters under his breath, making me bite back a smile as I hear the disappointment in his voice. At least I know that he does want to. Even if we never will, at least it’s a boost to the old self esteem.

“Right the phone is on.” He informs me, snapping us back to the detective hangover mission we were currently on. I see him scroll through his phone, stopping every now and again to read a few things “Well my wallpaper is a picture of you and some random old dude having a duel with the crutches, so we can cross that off the list…”

I let out a laugh as I spring to my feet; cursing slightly as the stinging at the bottom of my back hits me again but thinking nothing of it as I lean over to admire the picture.

I laugh a little louder “You gotta’ tag me in that!”

Drake shakes his head, trying to pull down the corner of his mouth as he continues to look through his phone. His brows furrow, a puzzled look on his face “I have a text from Luke.”

My expression of confusion matches his “What? About last night? How would Luke help?”

He is silent for a minute as he reads the text, then very slowly his face drops and his eyes widen in a panic.

I feel my heart beat faster at his sudden change of expression “What is it?”

He is still unblinking, staring at his phone with his mouth hanging open as if waiting for whatever he was reading to make sense.

“Drake, what the hell is it?” I demand now, the panic rising in my voice as I see just how serious his face is.

He looks up at me, his lips pulled into his mouth as he nervously prepares to break the news to me.

“I know where the bloods from. And the traffic cone. And the black ink marks.” He informs me, and I wait patiently as I expect him to carry on. Instead, he walks over to side table by the bed.

I watch him as he picks something up off of it. I look at the object in his hand with confusion as I didn’t notice that when I rolled out of bed earlier. In all fairness, I felt like I had gone 12 round with Mike Tyson so I barely notice any of my surroundings.

“What the hell is that?” I ask as I stare at the object a little more intently. It was a silver, thick thing. It looked like a big, thick metal pen.

“This is Luke’s brothers.” Drake informs me, the doom in his voice making me feel like that should explain the gravity of the situation.

“Tyler’s?” I ask, unsure why we would be in possession of any of Tyler’s things.

“Apparently last night we paid a visit to Luke’s house, armed with a traffic cone. We walked into his house and went to look for Tyler and made him an offer to give him a top of the range traffic cone if he lent us one of his needles for a while. When he refused, apparently we took the needle and ran out. We never did give him the traffic cone as you can see but I did throw my sombrero at him and scream ‘Aribaa’ as we made our great escape.” Drake explained, but that pretty much raised more questions than it answered.

“That’s one of Tyler’s needles? Why the hell did we want to steal, or trade even, one of his need-“ I stopped suddenly as everything made sense.

Tyler owned his own shop. What Drake was currently holding was a tattooing needle.

“By the horrified expression on your face I see you’ve put the pieces together.” Drake assumed, before looking at me sympathetically “Do any parts of your body hurt this morning by any chance Mia?”

I barely find words to utter as the realisation dawns on me that Drake and I, whilst being wasted out of our minds, were in possession of a Tattooing needle.

The tissue with blood and ink on it suddenly made perfect sense, and the dread in my body became heavier as I took in Drake’s question and an exasperated expression took over my face.

“Oh Christ…” I almost cried as on cue, I felt the stinging on my ass again.

Drake looks at me wearingly, as if waiting for me to have a break down. My body suddenly makes a bolt for the nearest mirror, which was the full length one by the