Randy||bxb||Roadtrip Oneshots

Dreams and detergent

Relationship status: they make all their friends want to gag

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Andy and Rye had been living together for three years, making them one of the most domestic couples on the planet. If their friends(or anyone really) were around to hear any of their conversations about how they were running out of milk, or how the electric bills still needed to be paid, or some shit like that, the unfortunate victims would undoubtedly want to run into a brick wall. Multiple times. Many could argue that hospital was preferred over watching them bicker over what type of fabric softener was better(it really was though). Many of these conversations were never heard by anyone else, though. Merely muttered at the crack of dawn.

Together the couple had three different types of mornings; one that was just bearable, one that was pleasant enough not to complain about, and the golden Saturday(or Sunday or any other day where the world wasn't punishing them with an alarm) morning.

The first was the most common, and it was a nuisance to the world. The day started by either Andy or Rye having to get up before the other by a fucking hour or two. One of the two would have to leave the warm bed and move into the cold air. Andy swore it was never that cold before you went to bed, mornings were just made to be painful.

This morning also meant no shared breakfast, no carpooling to work, and no proper time together. The person leaving(most commonly Rye, who actually didn't mind mornings as much as other people) would say a deep good morning to the lucky soul(usually andy who thanked the gods for letting him stay in bed) who was still in bed. The extent of their interaction was a kiss on the forehead before the first person left. The second would only stir before diving back into their dreams. Far away from this miserable world.

For people who loved to spend an unhealthy amount of time together, this type of morning was not preferred.

The second type was just a bit better. Talking over tea as the sun still hadn't become annoying yet was rather pleasant. There was always this sleepy sheet over hem in a sense. Super tired more often than not. They spoke very softly with each other, not because they were careful of what slipped out, no, on the contrary, some of the funniest shit either of them had ever said was during a morning like this. No, but, a quiet morning even though they lived alone in the flat allowed the brain to continue sleeping even if you had to get up and talk about that damn detergent or whatever had been so important.

The alarm made people want to commit suicide at half-past six. By ten-to tea was done, sweetener and all. Andy would leave the house after Rye at half-past seven, complaining the same way as always, that no amount of money was worth this pain.

When Saturday came not only were the children in Sweden cheering but so was Andy. He didn't give a fuck about how old he was; he wasn't leaving his bed besides for an emergency before eleven. Which was pushing it, noon is preferred. For literally everyone who likes their head attached to their body, if you are going to wake Andy Fowler on a Saturday, you must have a fucking good reason. Life-threatening. Because anything can be shrugged off by the blond if it meant staying in bed cuddling with Rye.

Rye had adapted quickly to this lifestyle. He had always been the first person up for a jog on Sundays, no more. The brunet caved once Andy played with his hair. Or just lay on top of him. Really Rye didn't need a lot of convincing.

Sometimes they would chat most times they didn't. Other times they watch shows from their bed, mostly they just lay there. Rolling in the great sense of joy at not having to move a muscle if not to move a stray piece of hair from the other's forehead. Simply letting your eyelids fall shut again after realising that you don't have to leave the bed. This was Andy's favourite part, he could fall asleep three times over, and Rye would still be there to hold him(cue their friends making gagging noises).

Rye found that his favourite part was the kisses they shared(that's the sound of a person hitting a wall with a surprising amount of force). They were nothing special, really, which made them like little pieces of heaven. They were soft and not going for anything more — just them.

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Writer's block is killing me! Hope you like it.

Compliment someone today; it's fine if it is to yourself. Have a good one.

Jo xx