Max's Room At The Arms | Saturday Morning

It was a really good thing that teen!Max had shamelessly been wearing clothes multiple sizes too big for him all week, because that way, at least, when Max woke up on the couch this morning, all of the discomfort he was experiencing came from his hangover and his spectacular embarrassment over what had happened, and not from being squeezed into tiny!him's clothes or something. That would've been the icing on the cake.

What followed after waking up was a lot of moaning and huddling under the blanket Jane had bought him on the condition that he promise to never, ever throw up on it. He was wondering if he'd have to burn this thing later, because somehow he knew that if he or anyone else on planet Earth tarnished an olive green cashmere throw from Williams-Sonoma, Jane would know.

So if anyone else was still here, hopefully they didn't mind Max's whining as he clutched the blanket around him like a cape and slowly, slooowly headed to see if there was anything in the mini-fridge that would help him feel better. Please let there be something in the mini-fridge.

[[open for calls/texts or if anyone wants to have spent the night!]]