Cold showers and late bills

Cast: Crispin
Summary: Crispin wakes up hung over and plots his next move
TW: Language


The dwarves from The Hobbit were in his head. They were marching in his head; stomping their boots and pounding their war hammers against their shields, and they bellowed the songs of their ancestors in unison:

Crispin sat up in bed and immediately clutched his head. "Ooh...Fuck me..." said a hoarse, ragged voice he did not recognize as his own. His body ached and his head felt like it was being squeeze in a metal vice. He rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom, where he turned on the faucet and drank straight from the sink for almost a minute before pulling away and gasping to catch his breath. He braced his palms against the counter to steady his trembling body and slowly focused his eyes on the reflection in the mirror. Dear god! Who was this hollow-eyed, sallow-cheeked, bloody mess staring back at him? He downed a handful of Advil and stumbled back to bed.

He got back up a couple of hours later at 2 p.m., still feeling like shit but at least no longer like death. In the bathroom, he turned on the shower and then walked across the living room and stepped outside to get the mail. Bills mostly, with a notice from the electric company that if he didn't pay his bill they would shut off the power. Crispin's brows pressed together; hadn't he already paid? Probably an accountant error. He'd call them later. Stripping down to his birthday suit, he was alarmed to see bruises and scrapes all over his body. Rose and Violet would not get away with this...

He stepped into the shower but quickly squirmed away once realizing the water was cold. What the hell? He turned the dial even more to the hot side, but it had no effect. "Goddammit...What the hell?!" But he really needed a shower, so he took the plunge. It was a fantastically miserable moment, shivering under that stream of frigid water, badly hung over and hurting all over. For a split second his gaze traveled between his legs to the limp member hanging there, and he frowned, wondering what the hell was wrong with him lately. But he had enough to deal with right now, so he pushed the thought from his mind, soaped his body and shampooed his hair, then stepped out, shivering and toweling himself off.

He ate a piece of toast with almond butter and slices of banana on top while he sat in bed, trying to keep the food down. His stomach was extremely sensitive, no doubt a symptom of whatever Violet had slipped into his tea. You're such an idiot! he thought. Why the hell did he accept a drink from a woman he didn't know who was family to Rose? Was this the end of it? Did they just want a little more fun at his expense, or was this just the beginning? The thought filled him with dread, but also anger. Just who the fuck do they think they are? Sterling or not, he wasn't going to take this lying down. Crispin was resourceful if he was anything, and he could make life very difficult for those he chose to. Grabbing his cell off the night stand, he leaned back in bed and scrolled through his contact list, thinking. Finally he settled on a number and hit dial.

"Yo. Yeah it's me. Listen, I need a favor..."