sixwordstories | (no subject)

Champagne is good. Very good.

Amy groaned, feeling like she was about to be sick. "No it's not."

Aw. you poor thing. How many times have I told you not to cross your drinking limit!

"You're worse than my mum."

That's 'cause you never listen!

Amy put her pillow over her head. "Stop yelling."

Dinner will be served downstairs in 10. Don't be late, young woman.

Amy inhaled shakily at the mention of food. "I'm not eating."

Don't argue with me. We need to get the alcohol out of your system!

Amy peeked out from under her pillow to glare at him. "I'll deal with it on my own, thanks."

Fine. Have it your way. You know where to find me if you need me.

"And where's that exactly?"

You're a smart girl. Figure it out!

Amy curled up on her side, "I am not going to eat dinner." She told him again, getting the feeling he was going to pester her about it.

walks out of the room hoping she'd come to her senses and join him for dinner.

Only she didn't, in fact she had somehow fallen back to sleep for a while. Getting up, Amy didn't look at the clock as she dragged herself out of bed and headed downstairs to see where he had gone. Or if he was even still awake.

He was lying on the couch watching TV and waiting to pass out any minute now. He left her dinner in the oven in case she got hungry. He had made her her favourite dish.

"Oi. Don't fall asleep on there." Amy said when she caught sight of him on the sofa.

Where else was he supposed to sleep? Your sullen mood had no place for me in bed.