Dorian woke up with a groan. His head felt as if it might split in two and the sunlight that was falling directly onto his face made little, colorful spots dance on the inside of his eyelids. There was something fluffy and warm entangled with his legs and something—or someone—was lying on his hair.
Dorian opened his eyes and immediately regretted it, because everything was spinning.
“Ugh.”
“Are you alive?”, Opal’s voice asked from somewhere to his left and Dorian turned his head to look at her. Opal was snuggled into Fearne’s arms, the black crown on her head a sight that Dorian was almost used to by now. As he turned his head a little more he saw that Fearne’s hairy legs were entangled with his own and that Orym’s head was bedded on Fearne’s stomach.
Which meant that the person lying on Dorian’s hair had to be Dariax. Dorian tried to pull his hair free with little success and he heard a grumbling from right beside his ear.
“Dariax. Can I have my hair back?”, Dorian asked, his voice sounding rough and dry. The inside of his mouth tasted as if something small had crawled in there and died during the night and it took Dorian a little while to remember that they had drunk way too much of that blueberry wine that Orym’s people had offered them.
“No, ‘s my hair now”, Dariax mumbled still half asleep, “I look like a princess.”
Opal snorted.
“I think I got stuck in Fearne’s ribbons”, she said as Fearne let out a quiet snorting sound before shuffling closer to Opal.
“I really need to pee”, Dorian hissed and tried to move his head again. It seemed as though they all fell asleep in one big pile after getting piss drunk—yet again.
“Boohoo. At least you’re not being strangled by some pastel pink fashion crime”, Opal hissed back.
“Your cause of death would match your outfit”, Dorian said and Opal snorted.
“Love that for me. She died as she lived. Fashionable til the end.”
Dorian tilted his head upwards and was greeted with Dariax’ face immediately. His mouth was wide open and a thin line of drool ran down into his beard and most likely directly onto Dorian’s hair.
Dorian raised his hands and pushed at Dariax until he jolted awake, sitting upright with his eyes still closed.
“Not my favorite panties!”, he slurred.
“You can keep your underpants, I just wanted my hair back”, Dorian answered and quickly sat up as well, untangling his legs from Fearne’s and standing up with a slight wobble.
“Why are you wearing my skirt?”, Opal asked.
Dorian looked down.
A pink, very short skirt covered barely anything of his long, blue legs. Dorian could feel the heat rise into his cheeks as he coughed full of embarrassment.
“I—uh. Don’t remember. Sorry—I—”
“Looks good on you”, Dariax mumbled.
“I mean, yeah. No argument from me there. Bit short, maybe”, Opal agreed. Dorian covered his face in his hands and took a deep breath.
“Then were are my pants?”, Dorian hissed.
“I think I’m wearing them”, Opal mused and pointed down at her own legs.
“You know what? I don’t even wanna know. I really need to pee, guys.”
Dorian ignored Opal’s and Dariax' whistling as he stepped outside. He was still drunk enough to not care about last night’s fashion choices and maybe, later, when he felt a little more awake and a little less drunk, he might revisit the fact that he actually really liked the feeling of wearing Opal’s skirt.