Would You Rather

50 - WYR: Biggus Dickus or Incontinentia Buttocks

this reference is actually, i'm realizing, only going to make sense to people with funny parents and/or said funny parents. 

FIDAN

 We decide after twenty unsuccessful minutes of finding a two-person card game that we're going to be better off watching a movie. The choice is obvious, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, of course, but the second I set my head back on the pillow of my couch-turned-bed, I'm out cold.

It's... easily the deepest I've slept in months. Maybe years. Her fingertips are swirling over the skin on my forearm, my hand twined in hers, my head on her shoulder after a moment, and I'm dead to the world.

I don't dream at all, just subconsciously sort of come to the awareness that I've been less hot, but I suppose it's a side-effect of being in the same bed as someone else. I didn't even get halfway through my lonkero. I hit the sheets, got one good lungful of Finley's concoction of smells, sandalwood deodorant, probably, detergent, day-old-perfume, the spices from my mom's soup recipe made the way that Finley cooks, and I'm fucking gone.

I drift back in probably an hour and a half, maybe three hours later, my head on her chest now, arm looped around her stomach, the foggy, half-gone feeling of an intense nap, and the howling of wind outside the apartment.

"Hey sleeping beauty." Her voice is a bit scratchy when it's quiet and I probably die and ascend to heaven when her fingertips brush back my hair, getting it out of my eyes. "You missed all of Holy Grail and half of Life of Brian."

I groan, sort of understanding what she's saying, sort of not thinking hard enough to understand English, and I press my face against her chest, needing a minute to reset my mental gyroscope after that.

"That's..." I blink, really trying hard to stay awake, fighting with it. "Two... hours?"

"Two and a half."

I nod, eyes still mostly shut, "is that wind?"

"Yeah. The storm is just picking up."

I need to stretch, a good, full-body, shivering stretch. The urge forces me off of her, rolling outward, disrupting Dino from his sleeping spot and everything.

I look back at her, sitting up now. "Do I need to do anything about it?"

"The storm?"

A nod.

"Not really. You don't have a deck, right?"

I shake my head. Yes and no are sort of not working in my brain just yet. My brain is really only focused on staring at her, wearing an old tattered hoodie, necklaces peeking out of it, her short hair catching in the hood, body stretched under the sheets and four or five blankets she must've taken from my linen closet last night. One says JOKEREIT on it in the corner, real small.

"Any open windows?"

"No."

"Badly sealed windows?"

"Shouldn't be. This place is newish."

"Any..." she bites her lip. "Turkish men afraid of high windspeeds?"

"Just the one." I let myself smile at that, still drowsy.

"Then that's the best we can do." She sits with me. "Now we get cozy and wait it out."

"And you're okay?" I know it sort of doesn't make sense to randomly say, right? "Like, your stomach?"

She nods. "Probably gonna be fine. Glad you woke up, though, because I need to pee and change my pad. So. Hang out for a second and then I'll let you keep sleeping."