—
how can you wake up with someone you don't love?
—

Cameron Morgan blinked her eyes open, catching a retina full of bright sunshine and promptly closing them again. Then, she readied herself, opened her eyes again. She was in a hotel room. The hotel room. Well, that was good.

What wasn't good, however, was the state of the hotel room. Almost everything seemed to be out of place. The lamp was on the floor; the paintings had been unscrewed from their places on the wall and were lying on the second (otherwise relatively untouched) bed. Random articles of clothing were on the floor, and quickly, Cammie started panicking as she realized a warm, strong arm was wrapped around her waist.

"SHIT!" she cried out, removing the arm and looking at the second person lying in the bed with her. "Shitshitshit!"

Panicking some more, she fell off the bed, hitting the soft carpet with a thud. The second person stirred, his muscular arm reaching up to rub his eyes. A groggy voice then slurred, "Mmwhattimeisit?" His torso rose to a right angle, sitting up against headboard of the bed. "Cam?"

She still didn't have enough function to say anything besides swear words, so she replied with a small 'mmph' sound as she too rose to a sitting position on the floor. A piece of paper caught her eye and a finger of ice stroked her back as possibilities ran through her mind. With a trembling hand (partially because she was scared of what the paper might be, partially because she was so hung-over the paper seemed to move and double up) she reached out and grasped the thin sheet between her thumb and index finger.

She took one glance at it, jumped so high she stood, and said one word. "Shit."

"Oh, God, that's what I feel like too," Zachary Goode mumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Do you even remember what happened last night? Or was it one of those weird as hell Vegas stories—"

"Shut the fuck up," Cammie ordered Zach. She took in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to connect to the womanly side of herself. Everything felt okay, besides the pounding head, which—thank you Jesus—meant she hadn't had sex with Zach. Which meant... she looked around the hotel room again, to the clothes strewn everywhere.

She spotted two empty suitcases in the corner. Okay. But that didn't explain the white netting... She stepped closer to the white netting and picked it up, then dropped it like it was a dead rat. It was a veil. A wedding veil.

"Shit shit shit," Cammie said again, breathing in and out heavily and looking back at the paper in her hand. "Zach. Zach. Zach."

"Yeah yeah yeah?" He asked mockingly. "God, how much alcohol did I have last night, my head is on fucking fire or something—"

"Zach!" Cammie yelled. Zach winced visibly. He then looked up at Cammie, an unimpressed look on his face. She held up the piece of paper in her hand. "Do you remember what happened last night by any off chance?"

Zach thought about it.

And thought about it.

And thought about it.

Cammie shoved the sheet of paper in his face. "Well, just to refresh your memory, this is what happened last night," Cammie growled. Then, she resumed her swearing, but decided to do so in Farsi.

Zach's gray eyes grew larger and larger until they looked almost comical. "That's really mean, Morgan," he finally said. "I mean, I know you hate my guts and all, but—"

Cammie tossed him a look that told him to shut up, this isn't a joke.

Zach was silent for a few minutes, before licking his lips nervously and clearing his throat. "Uh, well, I guess we're married now."

A/N:
- thoughts on the plot clichéd-ness aside? (you know somebody had to do the vegas thing.) (yeah, that's my excuse for being a creative desert.)
- thanks to my lovely beta, DiVaGiRl13.
- and that weird thing at the beginning is from 'leave before the lights come on' by the arctic monkeys. (of course.)

END QUOTE:

nathan: well, i've got a strange tingling sensation in my anus
misfits