She didn't really remember drinking, maybe blazing up a blunt or two, but Tatum definitely felt hung over. Opening her eyes felt like a monumental task, and she was content to just lay with her head half squished against the pillow, facing the wall and wishing that the headache building behind her eyes would back off. She was awake for almost fifteen minutes before she actually bothered to function, slowly opening her eyes and peering blearily around. Mack's arms were draped too heavily over her, she felt like she was sort of suffocating as the other girl clung to her from behind. There was something unpleasantly digging into the small of her back too, but it didn't feel like a knee or anything. "Baby, screw off," she murmured, trying to shrug the embrace that was held around her. And freezing as she actually took a look at the arms she was pushing away from herself.

Eyes wide, Tatum jolted up right, looking into the bed beside her and realizing for the first time that she definitely wasn't in Mack's bed. Or even her room. Dear God, that was Julian. Where the fuck were his clothes?! Letting out a squeaky little scream, she covered her face with one hand as she quickly grabbed the sheet and covered him up with it, though it really didn't hide much. Did that happen to all guys in the morning? That was sick. "Oh gross gross gross," she chanted, on the verge of hyperventilating as she began trying to get out of the bed.

Her face felt like it was on fire. That.. thing explained what was digging in her back, but it didn't explain how she got here. There was no way she was that drunk. Grabbing a blanket from the end of the bed, she hastily wrapped it around herself. Her mouth opened to tell Jules to get up, but her eyes went wide instead as she saw that horrible lacy dress she had worn to the dance, hanging half way off of his desk. Oh yeah, the lap dance in his desk chair.. Bits and pieces were coming back now, and she pretty much wanted to die.

"Julian, get up!" she hissed finally, grabbing up the nearest text book she could find and chucking it at him. One of the nice thick ones he was probably supposed to be studying for his midterms. "W-What the fuck just-- w-we didn't.. really, I mean.. did we?!"

She was on the verge of freaking out again, holding onto the side of the desk and holding the blanket around herself tightly too. "I think I-I'm gonna be sick," she decided.

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Julian had been having a very odd dream where Tatum's butch girlfriend was chasing him with a knife when the wind was suddenly knocked out of him and he woke up coughing. "Ow! Fuck! What?" He looked around blearily, someone had chucked a text book that had landed right in his gut. When he finally focused he gave a yell as he saw who was in his room.

"You! What are you doing here?" He looked around, panicked by Tatum's demeanor but unsure why. Something awful had happened. He gasped and grabbed the dress from his desk, horror on his face. "We had sex!" he choked out, flying out of bed and scrambling for some underwear and dammit, why wouldn't it go down he thought as he not very discreetly settled for tucking it into the waistband of his boxers.

"I didn't slip you anything! I swear to heaven I did not!"

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"M-Me! You brought me h-here, you-- this h-had to be your idea!" Tatum gasped back, feeling her face becoming incredibly flushed as Julian grabbed up the dress. Crossing back over to him in record time, she snatched it out of his hand, eyes wide. Turning her head away quickly as he began to dress and try to deal with his junk, she pressed a free hand over her face again, fighting the urge to be sick.

"This is-- w-what did.. of course you didn't, w-why you, I'm your-- ... well, you know! It w-would just be weird," she murmured quickly, assured that there had to be something more to whatever had happened. He might not have slipped her anything, but something weird had happened to them last night. It was more and more embarrassing the more she thought of it, and more bits and pieces she began to remember. If she had ever thought she was going to sleep with a Prideaux, it wasn't going to be him. She had figured her chances of that had died long ago now. Somehow, she was pretty sure Frankie would have been better, but she wasn't about to say so. Things were awkward enough.

"M-Mack is gonna kill me."

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