Ugh, hangovers sucked.

Satoru groaned as he peeled his eyes open, he felt like absolute shit.

Last night had been a movie, some might say. It wasn't often that all the teachers were able to get together, and Shoko wasn't about to let the opportunity fly.

Shit, just how many drinking games had they played, and why the hell did he participate?

Satoru raised a hand to rub his eyes, trying to remember just what the hell happened last night.

He could vaguely remember taking a lot of shots, but everything else was a blur.

How had he even gotten home?

A quick look around confirmed to him that this was indeed his bedroom, meaning someone had probably taken him home.

Perhaps Nanami, what a gentleman.

Satoru groaned again, rolling onto his side in a half-hearted attempt to escape the splitting headache pounding against his skull.

With a deep sigh, he shifted onto his other side, burying his face into the pillow, only to freeze when he felt something solid.

No, not solid.

Warm.

And breathing.

His brain, sluggish and still swimming in last night's haze, took a second to process it.

But when it did, his eyes snapped open, his headache momentarily forgotten.

Oh.

There was someone in his bed.

Someone who was very much not him.

Satoru blinked once, twice, then lifted his head slightly to get a better look.

A tangled mess of hair, the steady rise and fall of a chest, and oh, yeah, that was definitely a bare shoulder peeking out from beneath the sheets.

Well, shit.

He swallowed, trying to will his brain into functioning.

Had they?

He had no memory of it, but then again, he barely remembered getting home.

He wasn't exactly opposed to the idea, he had good taste, after all, but waking up next to someone with absolutely no recollection of how it happened?

That was new.

And... uh oh, was that you?

"Uh oh."