The room is heavy around you as you wake, in more ways than one. There’s an arm across your shoulders, and a body leaning against your back. Whomever that body belongs to is snoring like a damn freight train, and occasionally shifting around like he can’t get comfortable in bed, but is refusing to let you go. The air in the room is heavy too, but that might just be the hangover settling in over you. It's making everything feel groggy and slow.

There’s also a new, unusual feeling on your left ring finger. It’s tight and sparkly. Your eyes narrow and open momentarily, glaring at the big, shiny engagement ring that’s currently occupying that finger. Well, that certainly wasn’t there the night before. Nor do you remember exactly how you acquired such a guady wedding band.

“Go back to sleep, cher.” Your bedmate – who’s now easily identifiable as the one and only Remy LeBeau – grumbles at you and pulls you further under the covers, then promptly goes back to snoring. There are a few more murmurings in French, but nothing that’s possible to make out as an actual sentence.

You and Remy had originally gone to Vegas on official X-Men business. Of course, when that business was resolved quicker than initially thought, he’d convinced you to go gambling with him. Then he’d convinced you to go drinking with him. And then… well it's all a blur after however many shots. But a few educated guesses can be made based on the diamond the size of Texas sitting on your finger.