[Joe almost used the word 'execrable'. Correctly, too. But oh, boy, that man's got a temper. Things have gotten about as bad as they can reasonably get, so since this isn't a tragedy that must mean it's all up-hill from here!]

Chris woke up with a headache so bad he wondered if he might be dead. Probably not, he decided after a few agonizing minutes. If he were dead it wouldn't hurt so bad.

He felt like crap. Besides the pain in his head, he was pretty sure something had crawled into his mouth and died. There was a faint, lingering smell of mustard and vomit, and he felt grubby.

His first attempt to get out of bed was a failure and left him lying on the ground in a pool of sunlight. That hurt almost as much as the light, and the twittering birds outside his window.

The second attempt was better. He managed to get to his feet, though the floor was still less stable than he'd like.

Staggering to the hall, he was hit with twin revelations: he was still a little drunk, and there was someone besides Toby in Toby's bed. The first scared him a little. He knew he'd had far too much to drink the day before. He didn't actually remember anything past about noon, and what he did remember was really fuzzy.

The second scared him in an entirely different way. There was someone else in the house. In Toby's room. And he'd been so drunk he hadn't noticed.

Chris shuffled into the room as quietly as he could. He was tempted to go back to his room and get his gun, but he didn't want to take the chance of waking whoever it was in the bed. He wasn't sure he could use it right either.

Blinking to try and clear his eyes, he moved closer to the bed. He was only a few feet away before his addled brain finally figured out who it was.

Joe.

Chris wasn't sure whether to be happy it wasn't some sick burglar, or mad that Joe was in bed with his son, when he couldn't. Toby made a contented little sound in his sleep and snuggled into Joe. That made the decision.

Angry won.

Chris reached over and poked Joe in the shoulder. He would've hauled Joe out if Toby hadn't been wrapped around him. He almost did anyway.

The poke was enough to wake Joe. It was still early, but the sun had been up for a while and there was some light coming through the bedroom windows. Toby was still sound asleep, dead to the world. So was Joe, more or less. The first few minutes after he woke were always fuzzy for him, as his brain tried to get used to reality again.

He looked over to see who had poked him. Looming over him was a very hung over Chris.

"Get out of his bed," Chris hissed. His breath was foul, and Joe winced.

With Chris glowering at him, Joe carefully extricated himself from around Toby. It wasn't easy. Toby kept trying to hold on, but the boy was asleep and Joe was mostly awake. It took him a minute, but he got free.

As soon as he got out of bed Chris grabbed his arm and hauled him out into the hall. Chris was leaning on him as much as dragging. It was clear he was still a little drunk.

When they got to the hall, Chris turned on Joe.

"What the f**K do you think you were doing?"

Joe glared at Chris. He reached over and closed Toby's door. He was going to start shouting, he knew it, but he didn't want to wake Toby if he could help it.

"You're still drunk." Joe said flatly.

"What does that have to do