Demonic Influence (I hate my co-workers)

Writer's Block Surprise

I know this isn't a funny chapter but I just had to get these words out. Spot the paragraph where I gave up.

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Eddy woke with the sun, eyes snapping open almost against his will. Hissing out a quiet curse, he rolled out of the bed. Then he paused. He didn't remember going to sleep in a bed last night. In fact he distinctly remembered Brett carrying out all of those warm blankets and pillows onto his little pull out couch.

Brett...

The former angel was in the bed, limbs splayed out and only half under the covers. His t-shirt was pulled up, exposing a little bit of his stomach, and he was snoring ever so softly. Eddy smiled as last night's events came flooding back to him. Apparently staying meant awkwardly sleeping on top of the covers of Brett's overly ornate bed. Eddy cracked his neck absentmindedly.

Brett sniffed a little bit in his sleep, and Eddy smiled at him before turning away. Everything that made Brett himself made Eddy's heart flutter. As long as he kept all of their most recent squabble pushed to the back of his mind, that is.

Eddy walked down the stairs slowly, gripping the well worn banister in a loose grip. He rolled his eyes at the wall patterning, which looked like something out of a 70's sitcom, before continuing into Brett's kitchen.

Rooting around for something to eat absentmindedly, Eddy yawned and stretched, still shaking sleep out of his eyes. His limbs were heavy, and eventually that exhaustion won out over his want for cooking Brett something to wake up to. He would just wait here until he saw Brett's smiling face.

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"Everything sucks and I'm so bored and there's nothing to do," Eddy groaned conclusively from his spot on the couch. He had waited. He had seen Brett's smiling face. He had mooched breakfast off of Brett's plate until his face had stopped smiling. There was nothing left to do.

"You know your head is supposed to be above your legs when you sit on that, right?" Brett said from his chair from across the room, mirth in his eyes as he looked up from the book he was flipping through.

"I don't care," Eddy muttered from his awkward position, flip flopped almost completely so that his torso and head hung off the edge of the couch and rested on the floor with his legs almost straight up and resting on the "headboard" of the couch.

"You could... read a book?" Brett offered.

"All of your books are on lame things like cheesecake and the Spanish Influenza," Eddy mumbled, letting his hair brush the carpet.

Brett stifled a chuckle. "Okay. You could always practice. Those caprices aren't going to play themselves, you know."

"My violin is at my house, the second mostly undefined location that no one has really heard about but everyone assumes that have," Eddy said, wrinkling his nose.

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"Alright then. You could always go out and kill some sinners or the like. You know, a little birdie told me that you might get a promotion if you just kill a little overtime," Brett offered.

"Okay Brett let's be completely fair, I've done my job all of about once and since then I've either lied about not being able to do it, pawned it off on others, or just pretended that it didn't exist," Eddy said, smiling a little at that statement.

"Fair enough. What about a nice book?"

"You already recommended that!" Eddy groaned. "Fine. I'll read about cheesecake, but I refuse to read about the Spanish Influenza. It was bad enough having to live through it the first time..." He melted off of the couch and slogged over to the bookshelf, picking up the first book he saw before returning to his previous couch spot, rightside up.

About a half hour later, Brett walked over very quietly (so as not to startle Eddy) and draped himself over the back of the couch. "Hey dude?" He asked him quietly.

"Mmh?" Eddy asked, biting his lip and turning another page in the cheesecake book.

"You want to make me a cheesecake?" Brett asked hopefully, holding his breath as he waited for Eddy to respond.

"Was this your devious plan all along?" Eddy deadpanned, brow furrowing slightly at what he just read before commenting, "Wow, you think that it's gonna be an original book on cheesecake, but after a while the jokes get old and every chapter starts to look the same..."

"Umm yep. Sure. Definitely." Brett nodded. "Please?"

"I mean sure, if you really want me to," Eddy said, turning another page, thoroughly engrossed in the book. "Just a side question: how much do you value your kitchen? Also; how good are your smoke detectors?"

"Point taken," Brett nodded. Then he paused. "You've never baked?"

"I can make tea," Eddy said, "and pre-packaged biscuits."

"I remember those," Brett nodded. "They were a bit burnt."

"Thank you," Eddy replied. "And thanks for the stellar book recommendation, Brett. It really makes time fly."

"I'm here to help," Brett replied cheerfully, picking his own book back up and sitting down next to Eddy and snuggling into his side. "But right now I'm here to cuddle."

"Sounds good to me dude," Eddy nodded, leaning into Brett slightly. 

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sorry