"Good morning, gorgeous."
Bug just grumbled and flashed Nigel a dirty look as he padded across the hardwood floor with his bare feet, pajama bottoms dragging the floor, and pulling on an old t-shirt as he walked.
"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed," teased Nigel, looking up from his spot on the sofa where he'd been working on his laptop all morning. Bug rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair as he came around to the front of the sofa and sat down at the end by Nigel's feet.
"Maybe if somebody hadn't hogged the bed and pinned me against the wall all night I could have gotten up on the proper side of the bed," Bug growled back, leaning over to grab the remote from the coffee table. "Oof!" He suddenly found himself thrown back against the couch by sock-covered foot. "Get your feet off of me!"
"Foot," Nigel corrected as he lifted his foot up to wag it in the other man's face.
Bug grabbed the foot and pushed it back onto the couch. "Smartass."
Nigel tried his best to look hurt. "Who? Me?"
"Yeah, you," Bug accused, forcing back the smile that was creeping its way out of the corner of his mouth.
"When?" Nigel ran his restless foot back and forth across Bug's thigh.
Bug shot him a look of disbelief as his mind recalled about two dozen recent occasions where Nigel had been a smartass. "Let's see. . . there was yesterday when I asked you to bring me a small glass of water and you brought it to me in a shot glass." Nigel grinned, remembering the look on Bug's face when he set the shot glass in front of him.
"I don't recall any such event." Nigel closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table.
"Mmhmm. And two nights ago when I called and asked you to pick me up at work at 7 and when you arrived you put your arms around my legs, lifted me up, and carried me out of the lab. Do you recall that?" Bug asked, shifting himself on the couch until he was on his knees, facing his favorite smartass.
"No, I can't say that I do. And I don't remember the look of shock on Dr. M's face when I allegedly did it, either." Nigel was shaking his head.
"I see," Bug said, leaning forward and pulling himself up to where his face was hovering above Nigel's. He pressed his chest against his partner's. "And I suppose you also don't recall clapping wildly when I was struggling to get my sofa in through your front doorway and asked you for a hand."
Nigel lifted his head up and gave Bug a small kiss on the lips. "Not at all. Maybe you'll have to jog my memory," he said slyly, wrapping both arms around his accusor.
Bug smiled back against his kisses, "yeah. . . I just. . . might. . . have. . . to do. . . that."
