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Ah, the great Friday night parties. You know them, you love them. For a small occasion, usually, but celebrated better than the New Year of 2000. Beer, girls, cigarettes, loud music, flashing lights, you name it. Just what you need after months of non-stop, crazy futuristic work.
However, no good party goes unpunished.
SATURDAY, 9:14 AM
Fry pulled his eyelids open and groaned, rubbing his face slowly. The floor was blurry. He didn’t remember a single thing from yesterday night except for the fact that it was fantastic. Alas, now he had to face the consequences. Headache dripped to his brain like blood going to your head when you’re upside down. Hangover. The redhead crouched and, at last, shakily stood up, holding onto the red couch for support. A muddy, brown stain of beer was spilled on the carpet. Or maybe it was something else… he didn’t really want to think about it, if he had to be completely honest. The man sat down onto the sofa and sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back.
It got slightly better. A minute passed. Then another did. He didn’t want to get up.
…
"…Ya gonna get up?" a familiar voice called out just to his left.
Fry’s eyes darted open and he turned to Bender, who was very curiously observing his roommate’s state. The redhead immediately regretted the harsh movement, his hand rising to his forehead once more.
"Ya got sick or somethin’?" the robot raised an eyebrow, getting more comfortable in his seat.
"…Hangover." the man just mumbled in response, resting his elbows on his kneecaps, head in his right palm.
"Hangover? Over what are ya hangin’?" Bender took a sip out of his unfinished beer, probably the first one that he found on the floor.
Fry looked up at his friend for a moment with furrowed eyebrows and a rather confused expression.
"…Oh. Right. Robots don’t really have it, do they?…" he muttered, closing his eyes back. "It’s, uh… humans get it after having a ton of alcohol. Headache, nausea, all that…"
"Wow." the robot hummed. "Sucks to be you!" he laughed, finishing the bottle and throwing it behind his back. "Welp, I’m gonna go get some more. Ya wanna?" he stood up, stretching.
"No, thanks… Though, can you get some water?…" the redhead asked quietly.
"Woah, okay. Probably serious then." the non-suffering party backed off, heading into the kitchen.
The man decided that floor looked rather comfortable to lie back onto. He spent the entire half a minute of his friend gone just lying next to the beer stain and groaning into the itchy carpet. Bender walked in with two bottles of beer and water, then rolled Fry over and looked down at him with his casual expression. The redhead was clearly not too happy.
"Thanks." he muttered, taking the bottle from his friend’s three-fingered hand.
He quickly downed half of it, then regretting it just as quickly as he took himself by the stomach and head, sweat bubbling up everywhere on his skin.
"The hell did I do that for…" he whispered to himself, ginger hair sticking to his wet forehead.
"…Ya need help walkin’?" the robot knelt down to his friend, feeling actually concerned for once in a long while.
"I’m… I’ll be fine…" the man reassured his friend, forcing out a weak smile.
"That wasn’t a question, meat sack. Come on." Bender deadpanned, getting his friend up by the soaking armpit.
Fry, however hard he might’ve not tried to resist himself before, gladly accepted the offer and leaned on the metal body fully, head resting on the creaky shoulder and face buried in the place that was supposedly a neck. But since it was something between a head and a collarbone and he was feeling like a crumpled soda can, no one thought of that as too weird.
"Oh man, I’m gonna get all of that out…" the redhead groaned, wrapping his arm around his friend.
"Not on me you won’t!" the robot immediately protested, starting to basically carry the dying swan into the bathroom.
The man’s feet almost didn’t move as the heavy metal legs took the lead, just pulling the first along. Surprisingly quickly, Bender walked Fry over to the toilet bowl, the second momentarily crouching down next to it and resting his forearms on it, breathing heavily.
"Geez, ya humans were cursed to be so sensitive." the robot frowned, patting his friend’s back comfortingly.
"Ah shit… I’m-" the redhead wasn’t quick enough to finish his sentence as he gagged, feeling the previous alcohol rise to his throat and nip at his tongue.
"Come on, don’t hold anything back." the robot lazily encouraged, trying not to look at the gross scene, but still occasionally glancing in mild worry.
Everything eventually came out, the beer burning the man’s throat like fire and disgusting him even more as it came out and landed into the water beneath his face. Bender kept rubbing the piping hot back, a bit sad to see his friend like this. Weak. Fry panted over the alcohol, flushing it before even getting himself up from it. He chugged down the rest of the water bottle and sighed, slowly calming down.
Bender felt something slump into his lap. He looked down at the redhead, just trying to catch his breath, snuggling closer to the cold metal to clash with his steaming hot forehead. The robot was a bit at a loss for words, snarky comments or actions at the gesture, looking around the room awkwardly before glancing back at his friend, left hand rising to scratch the back of his neck-head-whatever-it-is.
…He then set the beer bottle aside and stroked the messy, slightly knotted ginger hair, gazing down at the calm, closed eyes, the water drops hanging from the mouth, the slightly parted lips. Bender found himself rather lost in the sight. He didn’t really ever think that someone’s focused, even breathing can be that nice to hear, to see, to feel on your legs.
He prayed that no one except for them would see this. No one did.
Fry got slightly better. A minute passed. Then another did. Bender didn’t want him to get up.
…
The redhead then grunted, resting his weight on his elbows and getting up from the robot’s lap, breathing out.
"Man, sorry ‘bout that. It’s just that, y’know, cold is good for you after this stuff." the man lit a small smile, looking away and brushing off the last drops of sweat from his forehead with ease. He felt much better, in fact.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever suits ya." Bender took the beer bottle and downed a quarter of it. "Just don’t tell anyone, or they’ll think that I’m your nana now." his friend just laughed at that.
The next week, on Friday, Bender suggested Fry go out into the bar and have a night off. After the evening, they came home and he watched his friend fall asleep on the floor again.
He hoped that he’d get a hangover in the morning.