The hangover hit Dexter like a freight train, turning his head into a throbbing mess. Yet, the thought of trudging through a 20-minute walk just for some painkillers felt like an expedition he wasn't ready to embark on. Instead, he opted for the simpler remedy: coffee, spiked with a generous amount of sugar. Dragging himself out of bed, he pulled on the scattered pajamas strewn across the floor, a testament to the chaotic aftermath of the night before. As he shuffled his way to the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of his partner, who seemed to be navigating the morning haze just like him. "Morning," he managed to croak out, his voice a symphony of exhaustion and regret, as he reached for the sanctuary of the fridge.