Chapter Text
Phil could have slept forever if it weren’t for the pesky rays of morning sun poking through the curtains onto his face. Phil tried to ignore the light for as long as possible. It was a Sunday morning after all, he finally got a break from work, and he deserved to sleep in. Plus, his head was throbbing. He’d never had a headache this bad. Phil rolled onto his other side in hopes that the sunlight would no longer beat down on him. Phil sighed and tried to fall back asleep.
That is when Phil froze. He could feel some sort of heat against his face, almost as if someone was breathing on him. Phil opened his eyes and held back a shout. Barely an inch from Phil’s face laid Dave Miller, his employee. Dave was fast asleep and buried under a pile of blankets. Letting out a quiet breath, his body was slowly rising and falling as he slept. Phil couldn’t lie, Dave looked extremely endearing in his sleep. Dave’s bleached-blonde mullet fell messily across his face, and his long lashes looked absolutely gorgeous when his eyes were closed. Phil also couldn’t help but notice that Dave was wearing one of his shirts.
Phil blushed and quickly shoved his thoughts of Dave’s appearance out of his mind. There were more important things to be thinking about. How pretty Dave looked in his sleep should certainly not be a priority. The main question Phil needed to focus on was what the hell was Dave doing in his bed in the first place? Phil tried to remember the events of the night prior, but nothing came to him. He just kept staring at Dave. God, this was going to be a distraction. Phil gently lifted the bed’s blankets off of himself and crept out of his bedroom. He needed a better place to process the situation. Phil entered his kitchen and turned the lights on.
“Shit!” he muttered as the bright lights blinded his eyes. He must be hungover, bright light usually never bothered him that much. After all, a hangover would explain the pounding in his head and his absent memory of last night. Phil turned the lights back off and decided it would be best to rely on the natural morning shine coming from his apartment windows. As Phil took some painkillers and set up his coffee maker, he tried to make a timeline out of the little facts he had on last night:
1. He had been working at Freddy’s yesterday, and he went home alone like he always did.
2. … Phil had no idea what happened next, but he must have been somewhere with alcohol!
3. He woke up with Dave in his bed and a nasty hangover.
Phil groaned and rubbed his temple, tapping his foot impatiently as his coffee maker slowly warmed up. There was a massive time gap in Phil’s memory, and that terrified him. Phil was clearly drunk the night before, and Dave was sleeping in the same bed as him, so naturally, Phil’s mind wandered to one question…
No, no, Phil was just overthinking things. Both of them were fully dressed while asleep, and apart from his alcohol induced headache, Phil didn’t feel any physical fatigue. That was certainly reassuring. Phil may have slept with his employee, but it's not like he SLEPT with his employee! Phil’s face instantly turned red, god, why was he even thinking about this. It’s so unprofessional of him and-
Beep, beep!
Phil nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his coffee maker finishing, but he was grateful the sound brought him back to reality. He needed to get out of his head. He grabbed his fresh cup of coffee, sat down on his couch next to Ketchup and took a long sip of his coffee. Phil gave ketchup a little pat on his head. Phil was already feeling better about the “Oh shit, Dave Miller and I shared a bed, and I can’t remember how this even happened” situation. Phil decided that once Dave wakes up, the two could see if Dave remembered anything from last night and try to piece everything together. Phil laughed uncomfortably into his coffee before taking another sip. This was going to be an awkward conversation.
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Dave woke up around an hour after Phil. Much like Phil, Dave would have stayed asleep for much longer, but it was the bitter smell of Phil’s coffee wafting into the bedroom that snapped him awake. Dave yawned and let out a cat-like stretch. He scratched the side of his face and looked around the room. Where the hell was he again? Oh yeah, Phil’s room.
“Aw fuck,” Dave looked down to see that he was wearing one of Phil’s shirts. It was some cheaply made graphic-T sold at a fishing tournament Phil must have been a part of. Dave could remember why he was in Phil’s apartment, but he had zero relocation of putting on one of Phil’s shirts. Now that Dave thought about it, he didn’t even remember going to sleep in Phil’s bed. He could have sworn he slept on the couch. Oh well, it wasn’t important anyway. Dave was never affected by hangovers too badly, so the tiny lapses in his memory will probably come back to him. He hopped out of Phil’s bed and looked around the room for his clothes.
Shit, where were his clothes? Dave knew he had worn his usual outfit yesterday when the events of last night took place, and he couldn't recall ever changing out of them. Maybe Phil would remember what happened?
“Damn it,” Dave grumbled to himself. He really didn’t want to leave the bedroom to find Phil. Dave had admitted too much last night, and he wasn’t ready to discuss all of that with Phil, but he was going to have to suck it up and be a man. Dave opened the door connecting Phil’s bedroom to the main room of the apartment and leaned against the doorpost.
“Hey, Philerp, do ya’ know where my clothes went,” He asked snarky, “I ain’t too keen on wearing nothin’ but yer shirt and my briefs fer the rest ‘er the day…”
“Good morning to you, too, Mr. Miller,” Phil replied sarcastically, not even looking up from whatever show was playing on his TV.
“We're still doin’ the ‘Mr. Miller’ thing even after last night?” Dave cackled in an attempt to embarrass Phil. He walked over and swatted Ketchup away from the couch to make room to sit. Ketchup hissed at him, and Dave fought everything in his body to not hiss back. Man, he hated that cat. “I thought we’d finally moved on to first names Mr. Manager, but oh well.”
“Well Jokes on you Mr. Miller, I don’t remember a single thing that happened last night,” Phil scoffed.
“Wait, wait, you don’t?” Dave asked in an alarmily relieved tone. Phil noticed that Dave was sweating. He was nervous about something. He was hiding something.
“No, Dave, I don’t,” Phil sighed, “Care to remind me?”
“Look, Philerp, I got business to attend to today, I just need my clothes back and I’ll be outta yer hair,” Dave threw his hands into the air and avoided making eye contact with Phil.
“Miller, I already told you, I have literally no idea what happened last night. You CLEARLY have some knowledge on it. Maybe if you shared that with me, it would jog my memory, and we could find wherever your stuff went.” Phil tried to compromise. Dave didn’t want Phil to remember some of the stuff he had admitted last night, but he also desperately wanted to go home, and he couldn’t exactly do that without his clothes.
“Ugh, fine,” Dave groaned and leaned his head against the back of Phil’s couch, “Where does yer memory leave off?”
“I remember coming home from work, feeding Ketchup…..and I think that's about it.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Phil, are ya’ seriously gonna make me retell all of last night fer ya?!” Dave grumbled, “Yer certain that’s all ya’ can remember?”
“Yes, I’m telling you, I have no memory, that’s all I know!”
“So, ya’ don’t remember goin’ to Texas Roadhouse?”
“Texas Roadhouse? The restaurant? How the hell does that-” Phil froze and his expression went blank. “Oh my god…”
“Oh my god indeed, Philerp,” Dave’s face went red. The two men just stared at each other uncomfortably as Phil’s memory started to come back to him.