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Matt has never been the fondest of big parties, but when you're an influencer in L.A., attending at least one becomes a bit mandatory. This one seemed like a sketchy crowd and the triplets weren't entirely familiar with the host, but a few friends were supposed to go and Nick and Chris's argument was basically “don't knock it till you try it.”
As it turns out, there's way more people present than Matt expected, and the brothers lost track of their friends and even each other fairly fast. Matt is standing in the house's huge living room with his red solo cup of A&W (yes there's alcohol available, but as the only triplet with a license, he's also the indefinite designated driver) when a pretty and quite obviously drunk girl wobbles up to him and strikes up a conversation. Matt's a bit overwhelmed already, but he indulges her if for no other reason than that he has nobody else to talk to in this room.
“Sooooo,,, who're you here with?” she asks, giggling.
“Ah, I'm here with my brothers,” Matt responds.
“So like… You got a girl? Or no.”
Matt pauses for a moment, then smiles at her. “No, no I don't.”
“Hah, you're cute. I like you. What's your name?” She steps closer to Matt, going for his free hand with hers. The rim of her cup presses against his chest. Her breath smells of liquor.
“I'm Matt,” he says, sliding his arm around her waist.
“Leah,” she introduces herself.
Matt hears someone call his name and looks up. Chris is on the other side of the room looking for him. The two lock eyes, then Chris's gaze falls on Leah. He smirks and nods at Matt. Matt winks back and takes a long sip of his root beer while Chris makes his way back out of the room.
“Mmmmatt,” Leah trills, giggling. “Do you think I'm pretty, Matt?”
Matt fixes Leah's bangs for her. “You're very pretty, Leah.”
Leah smiles wide, pleased. Matt isn't exactly looking to date this girl, but having a cute chick to have at his side for the night isn't the most horrendous idea. She chugs her drink and gestures to Matt's cup. “Finish that, let's dance.”
Matt tosses back the rest of his soda and steps aside to put the empty cup down on the coffee table. When he turns back, Leah has her arms up in the air, snapping her fingers and rolling her hips.
Matt starts bopping his head along to music he can hardly hear, trying to find the beat. Once he finds it, he's dancing along to the song with Leah. His imperfect moves are a little bit awkward in the crowded room, but Leah's drunken jig isn't much better, and that gives him at least a sliver of confidence.
At the beat drop, he turns abruptly to his right and is hit with a sudden wave of lightheadedness. Matt freezes and gently shakes his head from side to side, assuming that the quick movement will snap his brain back into place. It has quite the opposite effect, however, and the world tilts further and starts to feel like it's spinning.
Matt realizes something is very wrong here. He mumbles something to Leah and stumbles over to the nearby couch to take a rest. He leans his head back and tries to take deep breaths, but the spinning is beginning to become nauseating, now accompanied by a foreign brain fog.
Someone touches his face. He opens his eyes for a moment to see that it's Leah, mumbling something to him. He tries to turn away and free his head from her gentle cradle, but she quickly corrects it. He feels her run her slender fingers through his hair as everything goes black.
Nick pushes his way through the crowded kitchen, standing on his tip-toes every few steps to look over the sea of people. “Chris?” he calls. “Matt.”
This party was fun at first (emphasis on the “at first”), but as the night goes on, he gets less and less comfortable. The drunk are just getting drunker, and Nick has already witnessed one minor fist fight. He doesn't want to see his brother in another one. It's time they leave.
Nick spots Chris down the hall, leaning against the wall with a cup in his hand. “Hey, Chris!”
Just as Chris looks in his direction, someone comes crashing into Nick's side.
“Heyyy hot stuff, where you been? Been lookin' for you all night,” a girl Nick has never seen before says flirtatiously, looping her arms around his bicep and leaning her weight into him.
“Oh, uh, I think you have the wrong person," Nick says, trying to gently and kindly push her off.
She laughs. “No... How could I forget that pretty face?” She blows him a kiss.
“No, really, you've got the wrong guy, You're probably looking for one of my brothers.”
She laughs at him again. “Trust me, I wouldn't mistake someone as pretty as you for their brother.”
“Heyy Nick,” Chris says, finally arriving. “Oh, hey, Ashe.”
Mystery girl, apparently named Ashe, looks slowly between the brothers, her eyes hazed over. “Did I have one too many, or are there two of you?”
“Uh, yeah, Ashe, this is my triplet, Nick,” Chris introduces her. Nick immediately hears the slight twinge of slurring in his words; he knows Chris is tipsy when his Boston accent gets thicker.
“Triplets! Holy shit, did I just get Parent-Trapped?”
Chris cackles loudly, a noticeable contrast from Nick's forced, awkward chuckle.
“What'd you need, Nick?” Chris asks once his laughter permits him to speak again.
“Have you seen Matt? I think we should go.”
“Go? Noooo… Chrissy…” Ashe complains, leaning this time into Chris's arm.
“No, I haven't seen him. You want me to help look?” Chris replies, placing one hand on Ashe's.
“Please do, we need to leave.”
“Okayyyy… Bye Chrissy!” Ashe says as she's swept away by another girl, likely her friend.
“Bye!” Chris waves enthusiastically and then cuts through a few people to get closer to Nick.
“I'll stay here, just bring him here when you find him.”
“Gotcha. Hold my drink?” Chris offers up his cup, which Nick takes, placing his hand over the top of it defensively. Chris disappears into the crowd.
Nick brings the cup up to his face and sniffs it, which immediately makes him recoil. The smell of alcohol attacks his nostrils. He weaves his way to the sink and pours it out, filling the cup with water instead. He returns to where he had previously been standing.
21 and without a license, Nick doesn't need to be sober tonight. He chose to be simply because he doesn't particularly enjoy drinking, and he wouldn't trust this crowd with himself intoxicated and vulnerable. Chris, on the other hand, obviously seems quite comfortable.
A surprisingly short amount of time later, Chris comes slithering back to their meeting spot, alone.
“Did you find him?” Nick asks, handing Chris his cup back, now full of water.
“Yeah, he's hitting up some girl in the living room. Wouldn't want to bother him, he seems to be having fun.”
Nick sighs impatiently. “Chris, I want to leave.”
“I know, I know,” Chris acknowledges dismissively. He thinks for a moment, staring blankly into his cup. “Can we at least stay until I finish my drink?”
Nick probably would have said ‘absolutely not’ if he hadn't switched the beverage, and for his own sake right now he's glad he did. “Sure, Chris, sure,” he says with fake annoyance. “After that, I'm getting Matt. And we're leaving.”
Chris's dull-looking eyes light up. “Thanks, Nick!” He scampers away joyfully and takes a big sip of his drink, oblivious.
Nick spends the following minutes leaning against a wall and checking his phone. After an uncomfortable and boring amount of waiting, Chris returns.
“Done with your drink, Tipsy?”
“What'd you call me?”
“Chrissy.”
“Oh. Okay. Yes, I'm done.”
“Okay, I'm getting Matt. Don't move.”
“Okayyyy…”
Nick makes his way into the dim living room, poking his head out above the crowd and calling for Matt. He spots that familiarly-tattooed forearm slung over the back of the couch, the back of his brunet head hanging down slightly.
Nick comes up to the back of the couch to find a woman kneeling in front of it with her hands around Matt's face, kissing him passionately. Matt’s brows are furrowed and his eyes are creased in a way that makes it jarringly obvious he does not want to be kissing her.
“Excuse me?!” Nick says accusingly. He less than gracefully vaults the couch and firmly shoves her away. He doesn't know this girl either. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“Relax, dude,” she tries to reason.
Nick turns to look at Matt, and fuck , he looks out of it. He can't seem to look at anything in particular, his gaze darting around, his eyelashes fluttering. Something about his eyes rub Nick the wrong way.
“Matt?”
Matt only grunts in response. Nick leans closer and lifts one of his brother's half-shut eyelids. Matt's pupils are normal, but they look lost and tired; dizzy even.
“What did you do?” he shouts, turning back to the woman. “Are you trying to roofie my brother?”
“Chill, I didn't roofie anyone,” she denies, having the audacity to be just as angry as Nick is. “Your dumb brother just had one too many.”
Nick looks at her like she's stupid. “Listen, bitch, I know he wasn't drinking tonight. He's not drunk, you put something in his drink, didn't you?”
“I told you, I didn't do shit!”
“Get the fuck out of here before I call the police.”
She rolls her eyes and picks up her cup, standing up and disappearing without a moment's notice. Nick quickly turns his attention to Matt, sprawled out on the couch.
“Matt? Can you hear me, are you okay?”
“N…Nick– I w’nna go h’me,” Matt slurs.
“Shit, I know, bubba, we're going. C’mon, I'll carry you.”
Nick lifts Matt by his underarms to his feet, then slings him halfway over this shoulder like a limp sack of potatoes. Nick hauls Matt back to Chris, the middle triplet whining and groaning with discomfort the whole way there.
“Chris, let's go,” Nick orders, not bothering to stop to address his brother.
“Woah, what's going on here?” Chris asks almost jokingly, speeding up his pace for a moment to catch up.
“Someone drugged him,” Nick responds seriously.
“What.” The statement sobers Chris up almost instantly.
“You heard me.” Nick pushes the front door open.
“How'll we get home?” Chris asks, concerned, tailing close behind the oldest triplet. The question pisses Nick off. How can he be thinking about his ride home with his brother in this condition?
“I'll drive.”
Chris looks shocked. “You?”
“Well, you're not driving.”
Chris pauses, then nods concededly. “That's fair.” He bounds ahead of Nick and gets the car door for him.
Nick gently puts Matt down in the passenger seat of their parked car. Matt whines and covers his eyes with his forearm, blindly fumbling for the seatbelt with his other hand.
“Shh, shh, sweetheart, I got it,” Nick hushes, fastening Matt’s seatbelt for him.
“Niiiiick…” Matt groans quietly, his voice hardly over a murmur.
“I know, I know, we're going home,” Nick coos, gently brushing Matt's hair back and out of his face. Matt's eyes are still half-lidded, looking even more dizzy and lost than before. Nick's heart breaks a little as he takes in his brother, sitting limply in the car seat like his arms and legs have stopped working.
Chris clocks that his regular seat has been taken, and opts for the backseat instead. Nick shuts the passenger side door and gets into the driver seat at the same time as Chris situates himself in the back.
Nick holds the brake and pushes the button to start the car, and, miraculously, the engine growls to life. Matt must have the keys on him somewhere, thankfully.
“No, no, where're we going?” Matt mumbles anxiously, still trying to get a sense of where he is.
Nick reaches over into Matt's lap, taking his brother's hand in his. “It's okay, Matty, it's okay. We're in the car, we're going home.”
Matt gives no response. Instead, his head slowly drops to his chest, his upper body nearly keeling over forward when his neck goes fully limp.
Nick's hand reflexively shoots to Matt's chest, preventing him from flopping forward and resituating him upright in the chair. “Matt? Matt!?”
“Matty?” Chris asks from the backseat, his voice small.
Matt's eyelashes flutter. He groans as he rolls his head to the side and flops into the door like it's a pillow.
Nick slowly pulls his hand back from the place where it's hovering near Matt. “Okay, okay. We're going home. We're going home now.” Nick puts his seat belt on and shifts the car into drive. “Chris can you… Chris what the fuck.”
Nick looks into the rear-view mirror to see the face of the youngest—upside-down. His brother has somehow managed to invert himself in the back of the car.
“Chris sit up normally or we're not going home.”
Chris giggles. “You look weird upside-down.”
“You look weird all the time. Sit up.”
Chris's smile vanishes and he turns himself over. “That was mean…”
“Okay,” Nick says dismissively, and he starts driving.
Nick manages to drive them safely all the way home. He isn't too worried about it; he may not have a license, but he does have enough knowledge of driving to not kill anyone on a 20 minute trip. Chris dozes off about 17 seconds into the drive, which leaves Nick in an eerie silence he isn't at all used to experiencing in a car.
The car pulling into the driveway and the engine shutting off seem to activate Chris, who stirs in his seat as Nick exits the vehicle. Nick makes his way to the passenger side door and unbuckles Matt's seatbelt. Meanwhile, Chris leans his weight into the car door sluggishly and comes nearly tumbling out, observing the scene before him.
Nick hoists Matt's limp and loopy body out of the seat. He carries Matt bridal-style, though there's nothing ceremonious about the situation.
“Can I help?” Chris queries.
“Are you physically capable of carrying Matt?” Nick asks in response.
“Uhh… I don't think so.”
“Then no. Get the door for me?” Nick requests.
Chris swiftly makes his way to the front door and holds it open for Nick. “For the record, this is a way I can help.”
“Fuck off,” Nick throws back unseriously as he slips past Chris into their home.
At first, he was intending to bring Matt all the way upstairs to Nick's bedroom, but after realizing how much work it is to haul an entire human up one flight of stairs, he opts to stick to Matt's room on the second floor.
He lays Matt down on the bed and briefly checks his temperature with the back of his hand. He relaxes slightly when he finds it to be normal.
“Okay, Matt, how do you feel?”
Almost before Nick can finish getting his question out, Matt is drifting into another bout of unconsciousness. Nick makes sure Matt's neck doesn't fall at an awkward angle before nervously turning his head to look at Chris.
Chris looks like he's just about fallen asleep standing up. He's standing just inside the threshold of Matt's room, his whole body weight leaning against the open door as his head hangs low, his eyes closed.
“Chris, go to bed.”
Chris's body jerks to life again when he hears his name. He immediately asks, “Is Matt okay?” blinking off his drowsiness and leaning away from the door inconspicuously.
“I'll wake you up when I figure that out,” Nick quips.
“But I wanna help you help Matt,” Chris argues.
“The way you can help me help Matt right now is to fuck off to bed. Go on.”
Chris shifts around uncomfortably and glances about, as if expecting someone to back him up. No one does.
“Mmmmph, okay, fine,” Chris surrenders, and he dramatically turns and steps into the hall.
“Actually, Chris, one thing,” Nick stops him.
Chris turns around, attentive to the opportunity to maybe be of use.
“How many drinks did you have?”
Chris deflates. “Three.”
Nick tilts his head suspiciously.
“Plus the one I had you hold.”
“So four?”
Chris calculates in his head for unusually long. “Yeah, four, I guess.”
Alright, three and a half. Nick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Great. Gonna love dealing with you hungover,” he mutters.
“I’m not gonna be hungover!” Chris denies.
“Oh, don't lie to yourself, Christopher, you have the alcohol tolerance of a mosquito.”
Chris pouts, but doesn't argue. Nick has him there.
“Okay, now go to bed.”
Chris huffs and meanders down the hall, leaving the remaining two triplets alone. Nick turns back to Matt and tries to get him more comfortable, taking off some of the jewelry he chose to wear as well as placing his favorite plushie, Mr. Wrinkleton, on his chest for him.
Matt stirs from his brief unconsciousness momentarily, then pauses. “Nick..?”
“Right here, Matty.”
“I need to throw up…”
“Oh! Ew, okay,” Nick exclaims, quickly sitting Matt up and grabbing the small trash can in the room, which he places gently under Matt's chin as he guides his brother to the bathroom. Matt vomits once into the trash can before he makes it to the toilet, where he drops to his knees and proceeds to further empty the contents of his stomach.
Nick gently takes the trash can from Matt's side. He sits on the floor against Matt's sink, a full arm's length away from Matt, his nose and mouth tucked into the hem of his shirt as he uncomfortably rubs circles into Matt's back.
“That's good. No, that's good. Better to get it out of your system,” Nick mutters, reassuring the both of them.
When Matt is finished coughing up the last of his stomach acid, he sluggishly flushes the toilet and tumbles to the side, leaning back against the side of the bathtub and closing his eyes. The two sit on the cold tile in silence for a few moments before Nick talks again.
“Feel any better?” Nick asks, not quite uncovering his face yet.
“Mmno, I feel gross,” Matt murmurs.
“Yeah, I feel you,” Nick grumbles, tying the bag inside the trashcan closed. “Don't move and don't pass out and hit your head on anything. I'll be back.”
Matt just groans in response again. Nick brings the vile bag out of the bathroom and down the hall. As he passes through the living room, he sees Chris fast asleep on the couch. Knowing Chris, he probably chose not to go to his room out of pure spite. Nick takes the bag to the outdoor garbage bin and returns to the bathroom, not bothering to deal with Chris.
Matt wakes up snuggled cozily in the covers of his own bed, surrounded by the familiar scenery of his room. He shifts around under his blankets and groans tiredly, not ready to start his day yet.
“Morning,” a voice grumbles from the corner. Matt jumps, looking over to see Nick rubbing his eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” Matt starts, his own voice just as gravelly as Nick's, if not more. He starts to sit up. “Why were you watching me sleep, dude? That's creepy as fuck.”
“I wasn't. I was sleeping too.”
“In my desk chair?” Matt observes. “Why not the bed?”
“If you threw up again I didn't want it to be on me,” Nick explains.
“Threw up? Fuck, what happened last night?” Matt asks, almost unseriously.
“Some girl tried to roofie you, I think,” Nick says mid-yawn. His hand slams down against Matt's desk as he grabs his phone.
“Roofie me?” Matt repeats, not just his jaw but his entire head dropping in shock. “Well, shit.” He rubs a crick out of his neck. “That's fucking intense.”
“Yeah.” Nick briefly checks the time and his notifications before putting the phone back down. “How do you feel now?”
“Like shit, honestly,” Matt admits, rubbing his eyes and stretching.
Nick grunts. “Yeah, well, at least you're coherent,” he mumbles.
“Hm?”
“Nothing, you hungry?”
“I just woke up… so… no… But I could stand for a drink.”
“Me too, let's grab something.”
Nick stands up from Matt's chair as Matt swings his legs out of bed. Rather than moving towards the door, he instead approaches Matt. He stops in front of his brother as Matt stands, holding his arms out slightly, at the ready. Just in case.
“Wwwwhat are you doing,” Matt asks.
“You good?” Nick asks back.
“Yes? Let's go?”
Nick lets Matt walk ahead of him, his hand hovering just behind Matt's back. Just in case.
When they enter the kitchen, they are joined by the third triplet, trying to sneak a Coors out of the fridge.
“Chris… Water,” Nick reprimands.
Chris rolls his eyes, putting the drink back and stepping away from the fridge to lean against the counter instead. Matt takes his place, perusing the beverage options.
“I'm hungover as shit,” Chris complains, hanging his head and massaging his forehead.
“Told you,” Nick states plainly. “I mean, I'm not typically one to say ‘I told you so’ but, like, I told you so.”
“Okay- well-” Chris stutters. “It doesn't count if I don't remember you telling me that.”
“That's definitely not how it works.”
“Your turn, Nick,” Matt announces, cracking open a lemonade. It's as he turns away from the fridge that he notices the dark circles haunting the eldest's eyes. He narrows his eyes and stops Nick from walking to the fridge. “Hey, did you sleep okay last night?”
“No,” Nick replies honestly.
“Do you want to go back to bed?”
“No, I'll hang out. Don't want you two killing yourselves by accident.”
“A little hangover won't kill us,” Chris pipes up, now sitting on top of the counter.
Nick looks at Chris, then back to Matt, seeming to examine them. “Alright..”
“Yeah, go get your beauty sleep, princess,” Matt jokes, earning a giggle from both brothers. Nick vanishes up the stairs to his room. Matt turns around again, seeing Chris at the fridge again.
“Christopher Owen. What part of ‘water’ do you not understand?”