Y is for Yasley
Like the X fiction, this hasn't been reread or edited. It may suck too.
Y is for Yasley
Yasley woke up to a full bladder, empty stomach and a headache. A quick glance at his phone told him it was just after seven. Yasley groaned but pulled himself out of bed. A trip to the bathroom was followed by a stop in the kitchen. Yasley swallowed a couple painkillers with a glass of juice. Hopefully the juice would quiet his stomach enough he'd be able to get another hour or so of sleep.
Yasley had just gotten comfortable under his covers when his phone rang. Yasley grumbled but reached out a hand to snag his phone.
“You better be dying.” Yasley muttered instead of saying a hello.
Laughter met his words. “I'm not dying, though I'm sure you'd be happy to fix that.”
“Fuck you.”
“I would love, but I'm not one for phone sex,” was the cheerful reply, “Though I will hold you to that later.”
“Whatever.” Yasley grumbled, “Why are you calling me at seven in the morning?”
“Just wanted to make sure you remembered you promised to help your sister move this morning.”
“Fuck.” Yasley pushed the blankets off him and sat up. “You better be bringing food when you come pick me up.”
“Since when am I picking you up?”
“Since you ruined my sleep in. And bring something with caffeine. I have a headache, I'm going to need something to keep me running all day.”
“Will do. I'll be there in fifteen.”
“I hate you.” Yasley told the man on the other end of the line.
“No you don't, you love me. You told me so.”
“Ugh.” Yasley sneered, “Fuck you.”
“Later. I promise.”
Yasley didn't reply, just hung up the phone. He pulled himself out of bed for the second time and got ready. His boyfriend had better bring caffeine and food or he was so breaking up with him. That thought cheered Yasley up, especially since he knew he'd only get laughed at if he were to voice the thought out loud to his boyfriend.
Y is for Yasley
Yasley woke up to a full bladder, empty stomach and a headache. A quick glance at his phone told him it was just after seven. Yasley groaned but pulled himself out of bed. A trip to the bathroom was followed by a stop in the kitchen. Yasley swallowed a couple painkillers with a glass of juice. Hopefully the juice would quiet his stomach enough he'd be able to get another hour or so of sleep.
Yasley had just gotten comfortable under his covers when his phone rang. Yasley grumbled but reached out a hand to snag his phone.
“You better be dying.” Yasley muttered instead of saying a hello.
Laughter met his words. “I'm not dying, though I'm sure you'd be happy to fix that.”
“Fuck you.”
“I would love, but I'm not one for phone sex,” was the cheerful reply, “Though I will hold you to that later.”
“Whatever.” Yasley grumbled, “Why are you calling me at seven in the morning?”
“Just wanted to make sure you remembered you promised to help your sister move this morning.”
“Fuck.” Yasley pushed the blankets off him and sat up. “You better be bringing food when you come pick me up.”
“Since when am I picking you up?”
“Since you ruined my sleep in. And bring something with caffeine. I have a headache, I'm going to need something to keep me running all day.”
“Will do. I'll be there in fifteen.”
“I hate you.” Yasley told the man on the other end of the line.
“No you don't, you love me. You told me so.”
“Ugh.” Yasley sneered, “Fuck you.”
“Later. I promise.”
Yasley didn't reply, just hung up the phone. He pulled himself out of bed for the second time and got ready. His boyfriend had better bring caffeine and food or he was so breaking up with him. That thought cheered Yasley up, especially since he knew he'd only get laughed at if he were to voice the thought out loud to his boyfriend.