12

"Grayson," I say as I shake his shoulders. He groans in his sleep before letting out another snore. "Grayson wake up. I made food." That didn't wake him up either so I went to the kitchen and grabbed a pot and a wooden spoon. I went right next to the couch and banged them together. He jumped up, his eyes wide and alert, while his hand went to his head.  

"I'm hammered," he mutters as he sits back down.  

"I'm hungover too, but I'm still going on with my day," I tell him, "I made breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and hash browns." Grayson smiles and heads right to the dining room.  

I roll my eyes before I head to the kitchen to put the pot and spoon away. I go to the dining room to see Grayson already devouring the food. My foot taps as I raise an eyebrow at him, he just offers me a sheepish grin. "It's really good."  

"I like to cook," I smile as I sit across from him, "see you didn't notice the Advil I left out for you."  

"Oh