Love Language

"Come on, Breagha. Rise and shine."

               Andy makes every contrary noise he can muster, clings tightly to the bedsheets he's pulled over his head, and burrows down deeper into the mattress. "No." Short and to the point. "Can't make me."

               "I can," Virgil chuckles, which is true, but he's in no real rush to prove it. Just tugs at the covers, trying to find a mess of ginger hair in all the cotton. He's unsuccessful. "Robbo," he chastises playfully, "it's our off day. Get up. Let's enjoy it."

               "Not an off day if the gaffer still says what time we have to be up," Andy counters from beneath the safety of the blankets, eyes scrunched closed against the sunlight he knows Virgil has let into the room by opening the curtains.

               "If you don't get out of bed, you're going to miss the bus," Virgil tries another tactic, voice low and leading. "No bus, no beach."

               Full of fake annoyance, Andy throws the covers back with a huff of breath. "Have you seen me, Virg? Do you think I like sitting on a beach fully clothed, so I don't go tomato red? No thank you. I'm going back to sleep."

               Virgil can't hold in a surprised laugh as Andy burrows away once more. "What'll you tell the boys, then?" he asks, amused and showing it, poking at the lump of human in the middle of the bed. "Nunez will be so disappointed."

               "Don't start," Andy snaps immediately, scrambling to be seen, face sour with dislike. He gets nothing but more deep laughter for his trouble and he knows he's been tricked. Can't seem to wrestle the blanket from Virgil's grip to hide from light of day again so he simply sits there defiantly, looking unimpressed. "It's not funny."

               "It is," Virgil insists. "And now you are up!" He grins and winks and stands, taking Andy's precious covers with him, dragging them down and off the bed. "Let's go. The day awaits!"

               Andy flops on his back, spread eagle, and stares. "The only thing that awaits me is this bed. 'M not going."

               Arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised, Virgil shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll see you tonight." He makes it less than three steps before Andy is out of bed and on him, jumping on his back, arms and legs wrapped tightly around his chest and waist.

               "Viiiiiirg," it's a put-on whine meant to bring more laughter and it works. "You have to stay with me."

               "Oh, I do?" Virgil hooks his hands under Andy's knees to support him better and turns his head to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Says who? I am not so afraid of the sun as you. I want to go."

               "No," Andy corrects. "You want to stay. Here. In bed. With me." He gives Virgil his best puppy dog eyes and a bright smile. "You do. You know you do."

               "Spent all night in bed with you," he teases in return. A knock at the door breaks their banter but Virgil doesn't put Andy down, just walks towards the noise, checks the keyhole to see who's standing in the hallway, and snickers. "Milly." A nickname whispered for Andy's benefit before opening the door without fanfare.

               "Fucks sake, lads." The response is immediate and accompanied by a massive eyeroll. "Bus is set to leave in ten minutes. Are you coming, then?"

               "James," Andy says gravely, "I regret to inform you I'm ill and will be unable to join the festivities today."

               James looks Virgil square in the eye and deadpans, "has he started drinking already?"