8:30am is a pretty perfect wakeup for the morning after a Kegster; his body's used to waking up at six and if he has a really bad hangover he might roll over and sleep until ten, so this is splitting the difference pretty perfectly. And Bitty doesn't have a hangover, actually, so much as a mild pain in his head and a couple unfamiliar aches, and sunlight is hitting the wall over his computer desk, and the world feels friendly and warm right now.
He gets up, drinks down his half-full water bottle, wads together a change of clothes, and goes to shower in the bathroom. The house is still incredibly quiet, as though everyone's out at class, but if he listens in the silence he can hear small noises of movement from Chowder's room, someone snoring further off. There's a shopping cart on the lawn, the window shows him as he comes downstairs, and Kent Parson is asleep on the couch. He's pulled a corner of the polyurethane sheet off the old green monstrosity and burrowed underneath it like a blanket; his hat has fallen to the floor.
Bitty isn't sure whether he wants to scold Kent for circumventing his vomit stain prevention maneuvers and tell him how much worse off he is for doing it, or let him sleep on the thing uninterrupted because he deserves what he gets for it. He's probably enough of a hockey bro that he won't realize how disgusting it is unless Bitty tells him, though.
In the kitchen Bitty starts a pot of coffee, takes the full garbage out of the bin and leaves it in a corner to start a fresh bin liner, pulls a blue bag out from under the sink, and begins bagging all the cans and bottles littering his kitchen. When he has enough space to work with he starts butter in a skillet, and in between his cleaning chores he pulls a pre-prepared Tupperware of chopped vegetables out of the fridge and sets them to saute.
The house wakes up around him. The pipes bang and wheeze as someone starts a shower. Kent wanders into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, and watches Bitty scrubbing the kitchen table with bleach as he pours himself coffee.
"...Can I help?" he asks after he's had a couple sips.
"Toss the vegetables," Bitty says, sturdily refusing to speculate on just what the crusty stain that appeared last night is, and pauses in his scrubbing enough to take a bowl from the storage under the table, "and whisk four eggs and a cup of cream into that."
"'Kay," Kent says, sleepily acceding to the kitchen's dictator, and sets to work.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-04-17 08:04 pm (UTC)He gets up, drinks down his half-full water bottle, wads together a change of clothes, and goes to shower in the bathroom. The house is still incredibly quiet, as though everyone's out at class, but if he listens in the silence he can hear small noises of movement from Chowder's room, someone snoring further off. There's a shopping cart on the lawn, the window shows him as he comes downstairs, and Kent Parson is asleep on the couch. He's pulled a corner of the polyurethane sheet off the old green monstrosity and burrowed underneath it like a blanket; his hat has fallen to the floor.
Bitty isn't sure whether he wants to scold Kent for circumventing his vomit stain prevention maneuvers and tell him how much worse off he is for doing it, or let him sleep on the thing uninterrupted because he deserves what he gets for it. He's probably enough of a hockey bro that he won't realize how disgusting it is unless Bitty tells him, though.
In the kitchen Bitty starts a pot of coffee, takes the full garbage out of the bin and leaves it in a corner to start a fresh bin liner, pulls a blue bag out from under the sink, and begins bagging all the cans and bottles littering his kitchen. When he has enough space to work with he starts butter in a skillet, and in between his cleaning chores he pulls a pre-prepared Tupperware of chopped vegetables out of the fridge and sets them to saute.
The house wakes up around him. The pipes bang and wheeze as someone starts a shower. Kent wanders into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, and watches Bitty scrubbing the kitchen table with bleach as he pours himself coffee.
"...Can I help?" he asks after he's had a couple sips.
"Toss the vegetables," Bitty says, sturdily refusing to speculate on just what the crusty stain that appeared last night is, and pauses in his scrubbing enough to take a bowl from the storage under the table, "and whisk four eggs and a cup of cream into that."
"'Kay," Kent says, sleepily acceding to the kitchen's dictator, and sets to work.