Disclaimer: **Insert depressing, yet unfortunately necessary reminder that I don't own Jimmy Neutron here. **

A.N. So while working on Undying Hatred I was listening to the radio, and the Katy Perry song 'Waking Up In Vegas' came on. This story kind of blossomed from it. Originally it was intended to be a one shot, but looks to be a short multiple shot. Enjoy!

"Unnn," the blonde groaned, rolling over in bed.

Unaware of her proximity to the edge, she slipped from underneath the warm generic hotel sheets to tumble head over heels to the ground. The thin threadbare carpet of the hotel room floor that greeted her upon landing did nothing to help her raging headache. It took too much effort to climb back into the rented bed, she decided after a few head-throbbing minutes debate. She reached up with a groggy hand to pull the flimsy sheet from the queen-sized bed, hoping to cover her scantily clad lithe frame with something that could possibly keep her warm and at least conceal anything that might be considered risqué, in case her newly engaged best friend made an unannounced visit while she slept off her very first hangover. Tugging with all her one-handed might, she was unsuccessful in loosening the linen from underneath the mattress, or so she thought. Squinting one eye open, she glared up at the offending sheet.

'Why are these lights so bright?' she thought to herself.

Shifting her body slightly, she added her other hand to grapple with the sheet. She pulled, trying to heave it onto the floor with her and to free it from the bonds keeping it from her. Instead, peculiarly, the sheet wrenched itself back out of her fingers. Still hazy from her night of gratuitous alcohol consumption, she failed to question the bedclothes' inexplicable jump from the inanimate state to a sentient one. She reached to yank on the irksome thing a third time. Again it remained steadfastly attached to the bed. This time, as it removed itself completely beyond the perimeter of her reach, it was accompanied by a groan.

A very familiar masculine groan.

Ignoring the reeling nauseated feeling that rolled through her head, she abruptly stood up and peered down at the bed. Her queasiness only increased as she took in the sight of the apparently shirtless auburn 21 year old man, lying sprawled across her hotel room bed, wrapped in the very sheet she had been attempting to bundle herself with. It was possible the blanket thief lacked more clothing than just a shirt, but the blankets thankfully barred her poor hung-over eyes from this view. Smallish splotches of very feminine glitter sparkled on his bare torso and the side of his face not mashed into the pair of pillows that propped up his head. Smudges of lipstick, similar to the color she brought with her on this impromptu vacation, covered his face and neck.

Without warning her legs gave out on her and she sat down with a thump on the bed, shaking it and waking its occupant. Placing her head between her knees to stave off the overwhelming urge to vomit, caused more by the alcohol than anything else, she missed seeing the man lift his head off the pillow to peer sleepily at her.

"Morning sunshine," he muttered sarcastically. "Some night huh?"

Her head snapped up to glare at him, but the intensification of the battering in her skull that accompanied the movement kept her from retorting with anything more than a nonverbal reproach. The man threw her a lopsided grin, that had she been in a better condition, or even been able to remember the night in question, might have made her smile as well. She closed her eyes in frustration and pain.

"What the hell are you doing here, Nerdtron?" she quietly demanded when she felt she could safely form words without spilling the contents of her stomach onto the floor.

"You don't remember?" the shock was apparent in his voice.

"Obviously not. You gotta help me out. It's all a blur, last night."

Jimmy remained silent for a moment and Cindy glanced up at him. His face was twisted into an incredulous scowl. Micro-expressions of disgust and what came across to her as relief skittered across his face, reminding her of the science fair she almost won in the eighth grade. She had come in a close second to his project; her score only two points lower than his and for a minute Jimmy actually worried that he wouldn't win.

"Spare me your freakin' dirty looks. Now don't blame me. You're the one who got me drunk."

"I didn't know you were going to try and drink me under the table, and it's not my fault it only takes you a couple beers to get you tipsy."

"I can hold my liquor, thank you very much," Cindy glowered at him.

"That's what you told me around midnight after your third body shot. I'm pretty sure you were smashed by that time already," Jimmy rolled his eyes.

The fact that she couldn't remember even the first of said body shots fazed her for less than a millisecond before she spat, "Whatever! You're the one who challenged me to the drinking contest… What were your words again? Oh yeah that's right. 'Shut up and put your money where your mouth is.'"

"Famous last words," he muttered under his breath while running a hand through his slightly mousse-stiffened hair, sending a shower of sparkles onto the pillow.

"What?" Cindy asked, straining to hear his reply over the roar of blood pounding in her ears.

"I said, I see you remember that much," he lied, chuckling at her.

"Only cause it's the last thing you said to me while I was sober," Cindy retorted.

"You really don't remember what happened, do you?" he inquired sincerely.

"Oh no, I do. I'm just dying to relive it again. Of course I don't remember last night, you idiot! Just tell me already!" she demanded.

"Ok, but you have to keep in mind I was drunk too…"

Angrily, Cindy pulled her legs on to the bed and crossed them. Elbows on her knees, she propped up her chin on her hands and closed her eyes to listen to his story.

"We picked you girls up around 8. Sheen and Carl had already helped themselves to some of the champagne in the limo's mini-fridge…."