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"Fuck!-", Dave yelled abruptly, covering his mouth with a hand. He stumbled over to the balcony of the motel room him and Jack had been staying in, and grabbed onto the railings. He was currently so nauseous from the amount of alcohol he's had in the past few hours. He hated being nauseous.
His stomache was in knots, and his mouth went from suddenly dry to filled with saliva. Dave could feel the vomit creeping up his throat and covered his mouth again, still holding onto the railing with the other hand. Jack was with him the entire time, rubbing his back. "This whole thing'll go by faster if you just, I don't know, let it happen?", Jack stated.
"You aren't–grk–helpin', old sport!", Dave replied, muffled by his own hand. A faint taste of the bile appearing in his mouth. It was all so overwhelming. But it hit him, wretching over the railing and onto the level below them. He stayed still for a second, processing what had happened. He sighed, resting his head on the railing.
"Feel better?", Jack asked, still rubbing his back.
"I guess. I can still taste it in m' mouth. Disgusting!"
Dave straightened himself and sighed again. He looked back at Jack and rubbed a bit of vomit that was hanging there off of his lip. "No more drinks tonight, yeah, sportsy?" Jack nodded, now resting his hand on Dave's shoulder and leading them both inside. He grabbed a cup of water for Dave so he could wash that taste out of his mouth. After he had handed the cup to Dave he immediately walked over to the bed. A mess, he thought. Pinching his nose and sighing, he started collecting the cans of beer off of the bed so he could use the bed for what it's supposed to be used for. Sleeping.
When all the cans were finally picked up he slid himself into the covers of the dirty bed.
Dirty, as in, mysterious substances snd dirt engraved into the blankets. "Aw, sportsy, yer not gonna invite me to come cuddle?", Dave snickered, chugging the last bit of water out of his cup and slamming it onto the counter.
Dave made his way over to the bed, looming over Jack and crossing his arms. "You know I use you as a blanket. Get up, old sport.", he said playfully. Jack groaned, whipping the covers off of himself and standing up. Dave then layed onto the bed, motioning Jack to get ontop of him with his head. Jack obeyed, flopping onto Dave, he grunted. It always felt like Jack was crushing him due to how much bigger he was compared to Dave. And since they were corpses, Jack couldn't really warm him up anyway. He simply liked the feeling of a heavy pressure on his body.
"Ok, ok. I'm still cold. But stay... stay. Can you grab the covers?", Dave exhorted.
Jack groaned again but louder. He grabbed the top of the covers with his toes, bringing up his foot so his hand could grab them. He could barely reach, but got it anyway, and slid the covers over them. "Anything else, dickhead?", Jack concurred, his eyes now closed. Even if there was something else, he wouldn't do it; and Dave wouldn't be able.
"Hmm, no. No I don't think so."
"Good."