[fandomhigh] Room 238, early morning

[cameronmitchell.livejournal.com]

When John wakes up in his room, he's got a slight headache. He moans softly, rubs his eyes and stares up at the ceiling. It feels familiar and yet, not really. His new care bear pillows are soft, but not nearly as nice as Cam's pillows who smell like Archie, who reminds him with Lee but only with curls. He dreamt of lots of girls slapping his ass and groping him which he kinda liked especially that Weir girl but Aeryn will kill him if she finds out and then being brought to the basement. He didn't like the basement and the squid there. The crazy girl gave him a headache.

He sits up in the bed, picks up the telephone and calls Aeryn's voice mail. Afterwards he goes into the bathroom and notices he's less pudgy than he remembers. Deciding it must be all the basketball he's been playing, he heads out of the room 15 minutes laters and wonders down to the gym.

Comments

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

*is more confused then ever*

I'm John, dork head. Did you fall on your head last night?

[cameronmitchell.livejournal.com]

I do have a headache...

*laughs* Very funny. I'm John.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

You are not John. Stop playing with me, Cam.

It's been a long damn night!

[cameronmitchell.livejournal.com]

I'm not playing, man. Stop playing with me!

And it... *blinks and realises he can't remember what the hell happened after the quiz in Jackson's class* Geez, how much did we drink?

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

You're deluded Cameron Leslie Mitchell with a one legged mother. That is you, not me!

We must've had a whole damn keg to drink.

[cameronmitchell.livejournal.com]

Dude, stop messing around. I don't even know your middle name and I have serious daddy issues which you so do not have.

Maybe Aeryn knows what happened.

[mparkerceo.livejournal.com]

Crichton.

*Evil Death Glare of Doom* I think your girlfriend's looking for you.

*notices John Cam, and grins*

Your middle name is Leslie? Nice.

*glares*

But I'll get you for trashing my room, Mitchell. And your little Rocket, too.

*goes off snickering to nurse migraine of room-thrashedness*

[cameronmitchell.livejournal.com]

*looks around* Where is she?