lizjohnson:

Hangover. Somewhere, there in the back, a bit more to the right. Yes, there. Liz had a hangover. Yet, it wasn’t really visible she had. She was skipping through the house, collecting stuff from the party the night before, dumping all of it on Elijah’s bed before she made her way downstairs. It wasn’t only her usual craziness that made for her to barely feel her hangover, although it was the biggest part. The joint she had smoked only ten minutes ago definitely helped. With doing drungs came also munchies, something she had terribly right now. So five pizzas were ordered. They both could eat their body weight in food if it was necessary, so she had no doubts the pizzas would all be eaten at some point.

She flopped on the couch, stretching her legs before draping them over the arm rest. “Elijah!” she yelled, propping herself up on her elbows to look around the living room. No Elijah. She would’ve spotted the douchebag right away anyway. “Are you still making your motherfucking popcorn? It’s taking long and I want- no, scratch that, I need Homer in my life right about now.” She played with the remote control, changing the channel and messing around with the volume, waiting for either Elijah to join her so she could bully him, or for the pizzas to arrive so she could eat. Turned out, the pizza delivery guy was faster than Elijah. She practically snatched the boxes out of his hands and paid him before dancing into the living room and opening the first box, getting out her first slice before she was even settled back on the couch, again on her back with her legs swaying over the arm rest, munching slowly on her pizza.

Eli was really damn lucky to feel perfectly fine. Well, of course he hadn’t been drinking as much as he normally did, so he’d expected to feel fine, but he was still somewhat surprised. He entered the kitchen, looking for the popcorn and turning the microwave on. What was a Simpson marathon without popcorn, after all? Well, and pizza, of course. Popcorn and pizza, yes. Preferably a popcorn pizza. Just the thought of the food combined made him sigh and smile like mad.

He was still in the kitchen, fucking about with the popcorn, trying not to let the microwave explode and looked up as he heard his name. “Yes, I’m still making my motherfucking popcorn. Have a little patience, I’m almost fucking done, ‘mkay?” He knew Liz was messing around with the volume, because he could hear it, and sighed, “Calm down with the remote, you, I swear, almost done. Give me a minute!” He opened the microwave as soon as the minute of… microwaving… was up, grabbing the bag of popcorn and totally forgetting the heat would probably burn his hands. It did. He shrieked, dropping the bag to the floor. Tears burnt in his eyes as he bit his lip and looked down at his red hands. “Liz… just… gimme another minute. Man down. I can’t- it hurts. I need to…” He cursed under his breath, trying to ignore the pain as he held his hands under the faucet and poured water all over his hands. Little did he know that the ice cold water made it sting even more.