For Brian and Dean -- Domesticity at it's finest

[one__song]

The building crew had left almost two weeks ago, and Roger had himself a full-on hut. It was exactly what he'd wanted: a bedroom larger than the closet he'd squeezed himself into at home and attached to Dean and Angua's section. It was like an apartment without a kitchen, and Roger found he spent the most time on that couch, shooting the shit

Comments

[weary_head]

"What?" Dean asked, raising an absent hand to snatch the water from the air. "Just now?"

He poured some of the water down his throat and then over his head, eyes looking around for the delivery unit before reason penetrated the haze of too much work in too much sun.

"You finally got your present, you poor forgotten bastard?"

[one__song]

"Fuck off," Roger huffed as he reached the top of the ladder. He punched Dean's arm half-heartedly (but hard, since they had appearances to uphold) before taking a long pull from the bottle. "Big-ass bed and a shitload of sheets. The threadcount is higher than I can count, so I think the island thinks I'm a yuppie. I'd rather have a new guitar." He nodded to some of the roofing. "Hand me that, will ya?"

[weary_head]

"Pearly Gates not enough for you, huh?" Dean grunted, not rubbing his arm in an equally manly fashion. He reached over and grabbed up some roofing, but he didn't hand it over just yet. Roger needed to drink more of that water, first. They both did.

"Has it got a canopy?"

[one__song]

"Watch your mouth," Roger warned, wishing he could climb down the ladder and cover Pearly's precious ears, "she can hear you." He moved from his knees to his ass, plopping down carefully before taking another long drink. He took a moment to catch his breath and to wipe sweat from his brow with his arm, rather then the hem of the shirt he wasn't wearing.

"Why the fuck would it have a canopy? And if it did, why would I keep it there? That's like... putting wood paneling on your Impala." He gave Dean a stern look. Really, he should know better.