UK; farm, too damn early.
It seemed to be part of the arriving at Norton Wood Farm vibe that one should arrive at dawn or midnight. This occasion, Andy and Erik were staying at Leysters and so had turned up there in the grey morning and had been shown to their rooms by Bella who came down in her robe.
"You might as well have a rest before you go to see Deacon and Charlie," she said. "It was their stag party last night. I don't imagine they will be up too early."
"Oh dear," Erik said, letting the ladies go in before him and then following them. "Did they make it home under their own power or were they carried?"
"I believe Deacon out drank everyone and walked home but I very much doubt that Charlie did," Bella said, as she led them upstairs. "Seth certainly didn't. Nick and Andras had to help him. It was most amusing listening to them creeping in and shushing each other and trying not to giggle. Here's your room, bathroom's through there, and I put a tea tray and kettle in there as well. Now if you don't mind," she smiled sleepily at them, "I'm going to go back to bed for a while. Nia was awake earlier so, as you can imagine, I had to be awake too."
"Thank you, Bella, you've been most kind," Erik said, returning her smile. "Sleep well."
When she'd gone and he'd shut the door and they were alone Erik turned to Andy. "Shall we take bets on who has the worst hangover?"
"Charlie," Andy said with a grin. "And it's - ooh gone eight. What say we freshen up, change, have tea and go and wake them up around nine?" She had slept on the plane and the drive from Heathrow had woken her up properly so she wanted to be out and doing.
"They'll be very annoyed with us," Erik said then smirked - yes smirked! "Yes, let's."
So after some tea, a very pleasant shower - the plumbing at Leysters must have been refurbished, it was almost as good as at home - Andy and Erik walked the mile over the fields to the farm and arrived at about nine fifteen.
"I wonder if anyone's home?" Andy said, quite loudly, looking up at an open bedroom window. "Shall we try the door?"
Erik chuckled and knocked - loudly - on the door. "Charlie," he called, his deep voice easily reaching the window, "come now, don't keep us waiting."
In the bedroom Deacon groaned and covered his head with his pillow. "Gonna kill 'em," he murmured then groaned again as even that tiny bit of noise made his head pound.
From bed to ground wasn't far and the groan had carried. Andy bit back a giggle and tried the door. It opened. "Let's go in and wait," she said. "Hmm, I could fry up some eggs and hashbrowns. Some nice fat bacon. Maybe some oatmeal?"
Charlie, who was still in the position he had been left in, with a bucket and a towel close to hand, cracked an eye open and whimpered as he closed it again.
"You are evil," Erik said with approval as he followed her into the kitchen. "I'll get the tea and coffee going. Coffee is for them of course. Nice and strong."
Upstairs Deacon groaned again. Every step they made, every cabinet they opened and closed and every pan they moved sounded like they were made by elephants. He finally cracked open an eye, swore as the light coming through the window felt like ice picks in his eyes, and then looked for Charlie.
"You alive, Mouse?" he croaked.
"No," came the woebegone reply. "How - much - did - I - drink - last - night?" every word was an effort.
"Um..." Deacon tried to think but that hurt too. Fuck his hair hurt. "I dunno. But I'm never touchin' that shit Hugh made again. Ever."
There was another bang from downstairs and Deacon groaned.
"Fuckin' bitch," he said, but lovingly.
"Andy's here?" Charlie asked, identifying the tone even while still half asleep, and still one third drunk. "I better get ..." He began to sit up then groaned and grabbed for the bucket. "Oh God, he muttered and flung himself out of bed and lurched out of the bedroom bucket in hand.
At the bottom of the stairs, Andy, who had been about to all up to ask how they wanted their eggs, had a good view of him - tee shirt, boxers, bed hair, just one sock - as he disappeared into the bathroom.
"I haz a bukkit," she said cheerfully and turned back to see if there was any aspirin.
Deacon appeared a bit later, coming very slowly down the stairs. He'd pulled on his jeans and a very wrinkled tshirt and his hair was a mess. The usually trimmed stubble on his face was scraggly and his eyes were squinted mostly closed.
"I hate you," he said, softly, to Andy when he saw her. "Where's the coffee."
Erik chuckled and handed him a cup.
"I hate you too," Deacon told him then sank into a chair with a groan and sipped the strong dark liquid.
Now he was up Andy moderated the noise level and crept around the kitchen with exaggerated care. However she did get the frying pan out and began to crisp bacon in it.
"What gorgeous looking eggs," she said, inspecting a bowl full. "Omelette, scrambled or fried?" Upstairs the lavatory flushed and she looked up. "Or lightly poached?"
Deacon groaned but not because the thought of food made him ill. That was one nice thing about his hangovers - he was still hungry in the mornings. "Omelette," he said. "For me anyway. I'm not sure Charlie can keep anythin' down yet."
Erik made a thoughtful humming noise and began gathering odds and ends together. The nice thing about working with herbs - one knew how to make soothing teas for many reasons.
With breakfast almost ready, Andy went to the stairs, drew breath to shout then thought better of it and went up to the landing. The bedroom door was ajar and she peeped through the crack and grinned.
Charlie was sitting on the end of the bed with his jeans in one hand and his sock in the other and was a lovely and delicate shade of eau de nil.
"Oh my God," Andy sighed. "Chas - go back to bed. I'll bring you up a drink and some pills."
"Cyanide would be nice," Charlie whispered.
"Oh shush," she said and went to the edge of the bed to pull back the covers. She frowned as something under the bed shifted and she stooped to lift the edge of the valance.
"Okay," she said, "Why's there a road sign under the bed? One that says 'No Entry?"
"No entry?" Charlie said then his eyes opened. "Oh shit, it's all coming back to me."
Deacon appeared a minute later with a tray - Erik's tea, some asprin, and toast. "You look like shit, Mouse," he said but smiled and bent to kiss the top of Charlie's hair before putting the tray down.
Andy giggled as Charlie winced and held up the road sign, baler twine trailing from it. "Remember this?" she asked.
"D," Charlie said, leaning against him. "Did I really walk back from the Dog with that tied to my ass. I have this memory of clanking as I fell off the stile."
Deacon frowned at the sign for a moment then started to laugh but it turned into another groan. "Yes. Yes you did. And as I recall - we proved the sign wrong once we got back here."
"Did we? Damn - I missed it," Charlie sighed and Andy giggled and headed downstairs with the road sign.
"Guess we'd better find where they stole this from and put it back," she said to Erik, displaying the sign. "I think Charlie'll live now. God, I wonder what they drank?"
"I'm afraid to find out," Erik said, eyeing the sign and shaking his head. "I don't even want to know the story behind that do I? Ah well boys will be boys I suppose."
"Yeah, bless their little cotton socks," Andy cooed and kissed Erik on top of the head as she went to dish up their breakfast.