Braig
It was the last week of July, and the weather had been obnoxiously bright and warm. It was early in the morning, but already the dew had burned away in the sunshine, and Yanni would have preferred to sleep in a little later and enjoy the day before it got unbearably hot. Unfortunately, Frank had to leave for work, and after a short breakfast, he did.
Then he came back.
“Forgot something?” Yanni asked, noting the perplexed, bemused expression on Frank's face.
“Braig's asleep in the shrubbery.”
Yanni frowned, and calmly put down his coffee before following Frank outside. Out there, Braig was indeed asleep, face down and snoring loudly. He reeked of old beer, and looked as though he'd fallen over, and then fallen asleep where he landed.
“Do you think he's all right?” Frank asked, but Yanni could hear the difference between genuine concern and mild interest in Frank's voice. Frank wasn't fazed by much, especially since he'd moved in with Yanni. Cohabiting with a wizard would do that to someone, and he'd met Braig before.
“He's going to wish he wasn't when he wakes up,” Yanni answered. “You should go to work; you don't want to be late. I can deal with Braig.”
“You're sure about that?” Frank asked, and Yanni nodded, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch in slight amusement. “I'll see you tonight, then.”
Yanni waited until Frank was gone before he headed back inside and filled a glass with cold water, picking up his coffee and taking them both outside with him where he calmly drank his coffee while throwing the cold water over Braig.
Braig jolted awake, and in the five seconds of sober clarity before his hangover hit he said, “What did you do that for?” Then he groaned as his body's recovery from mild alcohol poisoning ticked off the list of symptoms it was going to suffer today; headache, nausea, dehydration, tiredness, photosensitivity, dizziness, and aching muscles. “Can't a guy catch forty winks in a buddy's garden without being disturbed now?”
“You're making the place look untidy,” Yanni said, without a note of sympathy.
“I can't help it if the flowerbeds are comfortable,” Braig replied, defiantly, while forcing himself into a slightly unsteady sitting position on the floor.
“How long have you been there?” Yanni asked, and drank some more of his coffee.
Braig's eye rolled into the back of his head as he tried to remember the answer, before he gave up, shrugged, and asked, “How long's a piece of string? You gonna invite a guy in, or do you wanna keep talking out here on the lawn where all the neighbours can see?”
Yanni thought about it for a moment. “It's seven am, on a saturday,” he paused, checked his watch, and corrected himself, “ten past, actually. No one is going to be out here for at least another twenty minutes yet.”
Braig eyed Yanni. “You'd leave a mate to suffer?”
“You squashed the abelias,” Yanni replied, as if it was an answer.
Braig looked over at his impromptu bed for the night, and then looked back at Yanni. “You actually know what kind of plants are in your garden?”
“You actually consider me a 'mate'?”
Braig mulled that one over before he said, “Touché.”
Yanni drained the last of his coffee before he finally said, “Get your ass inside, Braig.” Without waiting, he turned and headed indoors himself, pouring Braig a cup of coffee ready for when the man staggered in. “Don't sit on the soft furnishings,” he said, “you're covered in dirt.”
Braig tromped gratefully over to the small dining table, and collapsed into one of the chairs. Yanni pushed the coffee in front of him. “Drink that, then take a shower, then you can sleep in the spare bed for a few hours, but I want you gone before Frank gets home.”
Braig narrowed his one eye at Yanni and asked, “What the hell did you take to make you come down with a case of nice?”
“Nothing,” Yanni replied, “I'm just glad you fell asleep in the bushes rather than making it to the door and disturbing me and Frank.” His tone was a little pointed; Braig didn't miss it.
“Yeah, he's at work today, huh? Sorry.” It was the hangover talking, because Braig actually looked contrite about the issue.
“Early start, actually,” Yanni said, “he's the one who found you,” he paused just long enough to increase the impact before he said, “but I said both of us, not just him.”
Braig looked at Yanni, and then physically cringed as realisation crept in and played havoc with his nausea. “That is not a nice thing to say to a hungover dude.”
Yanni gave Braig a sharp look and reminded him, “Just be glad you look as shitty as you feel, or I wouldn't be half this nice.”
Then he came back.
“Forgot something?” Yanni asked, noting the perplexed, bemused expression on Frank's face.
“Braig's asleep in the shrubbery.”
Yanni frowned, and calmly put down his coffee before following Frank outside. Out there, Braig was indeed asleep, face down and snoring loudly. He reeked of old beer, and looked as though he'd fallen over, and then fallen asleep where he landed.
“Do you think he's all right?” Frank asked, but Yanni could hear the difference between genuine concern and mild interest in Frank's voice. Frank wasn't fazed by much, especially since he'd moved in with Yanni. Cohabiting with a wizard would do that to someone, and he'd met Braig before.
“He's going to wish he wasn't when he wakes up,” Yanni answered. “You should go to work; you don't want to be late. I can deal with Braig.”
“You're sure about that?” Frank asked, and Yanni nodded, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch in slight amusement. “I'll see you tonight, then.”
Yanni waited until Frank was gone before he headed back inside and filled a glass with cold water, picking up his coffee and taking them both outside with him where he calmly drank his coffee while throwing the cold water over Braig.
Braig jolted awake, and in the five seconds of sober clarity before his hangover hit he said, “What did you do that for?” Then he groaned as his body's recovery from mild alcohol poisoning ticked off the list of symptoms it was going to suffer today; headache, nausea, dehydration, tiredness, photosensitivity, dizziness, and aching muscles. “Can't a guy catch forty winks in a buddy's garden without being disturbed now?”
“You're making the place look untidy,” Yanni said, without a note of sympathy.
“I can't help it if the flowerbeds are comfortable,” Braig replied, defiantly, while forcing himself into a slightly unsteady sitting position on the floor.
“How long have you been there?” Yanni asked, and drank some more of his coffee.
Braig's eye rolled into the back of his head as he tried to remember the answer, before he gave up, shrugged, and asked, “How long's a piece of string? You gonna invite a guy in, or do you wanna keep talking out here on the lawn where all the neighbours can see?”
Yanni thought about it for a moment. “It's seven am, on a saturday,” he paused, checked his watch, and corrected himself, “ten past, actually. No one is going to be out here for at least another twenty minutes yet.”
Braig eyed Yanni. “You'd leave a mate to suffer?”
“You squashed the abelias,” Yanni replied, as if it was an answer.
Braig looked over at his impromptu bed for the night, and then looked back at Yanni. “You actually know what kind of plants are in your garden?”
“You actually consider me a 'mate'?”
Braig mulled that one over before he said, “Touché.”
Yanni drained the last of his coffee before he finally said, “Get your ass inside, Braig.” Without waiting, he turned and headed indoors himself, pouring Braig a cup of coffee ready for when the man staggered in. “Don't sit on the soft furnishings,” he said, “you're covered in dirt.”
Braig tromped gratefully over to the small dining table, and collapsed into one of the chairs. Yanni pushed the coffee in front of him. “Drink that, then take a shower, then you can sleep in the spare bed for a few hours, but I want you gone before Frank gets home.”
Braig narrowed his one eye at Yanni and asked, “What the hell did you take to make you come down with a case of nice?”
“Nothing,” Yanni replied, “I'm just glad you fell asleep in the bushes rather than making it to the door and disturbing me and Frank.” His tone was a little pointed; Braig didn't miss it.
“Yeah, he's at work today, huh? Sorry.” It was the hangover talking, because Braig actually looked contrite about the issue.
“Early start, actually,” Yanni said, “he's the one who found you,” he paused just long enough to increase the impact before he said, “but I said both of us, not just him.”
Braig looked at Yanni, and then physically cringed as realisation crept in and played havoc with his nausea. “That is not a nice thing to say to a hungover dude.”
Yanni gave Braig a sharp look and reminded him, “Just be glad you look as shitty as you feel, or I wouldn't be half this nice.”