Yawning and stretching, Sebastian padded into the living room. Jim sat on the sofa, half concealed by the piles of cushions built up around him. He was staring intensely into space.

"I take it you didn't sleep at all, then." Sebastian sighed, sitting down.

"Of course not." Jim scoffed, "Sleep is for normal people."

"God forbid you ever seem normal."

Jim dug Seb in his ribs with an elbow and shuffled to the other end of the sofa.

"I'm making toast. Do you want some?" Sebastian offered, getting up.

"I don't need to eat. I'm a machine, Sebastian. How can you be such a doofus?" Jim rolled his eyes and ducked under his cushion fort.

Sebastian shrugged and went into the kitchen. They had a bright red fridge. Sebastian hated the bloody thing, but Jim had spotted it and whined incessantly until Sebastian, swearing all the while, caved in and payed a small fortune for the hideous thing. Sebastian didn't have any feng-shui issues, but the eye-watering crimson didn't fit in with the silvers and greys. It made his headache more full-on when he came downstairs, reeling from a hangover. It destroyed any feeling of tiredness when he went downstairs for a glass of water in the middle of the night. All in all, Sebastian strongly despised the thing.

He slotted two slices of bread in the toaster and sat on the breakfast bar to wait for it to crisp up.

"Two slices. Jam is in the fridge." Jim called.

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian put in two more slices of bread and retrieved the jam.

That evening, the couple were watching a documentary on the gruesome deaths of American teenagers. Well, neither of them were watching; Sebastian was enjoying a cigarette and Jim had in head in Sebastian's lap and was tapping away on his phone.

"Stop moving!" Jim moaned.

"Well, sorry for trying not to cover you in ash." Sebastian bit back.

"Just put it out. I hate it when you smoke."

"Too bad. I need some kind of drugs to get through this relationship with you."

Even so, Sebastian stubbed out the cigarette and relaxed into the sofa.

"Sebastian! Stop moving. I can and I will call a taxidermist. I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable stuffed."

Sebastian rolled his eyes and pushed Jim's head off his lap.

"I'm going to bed. You've used up my quota of energy today." He yawned, getting up.

"Please. I'm not tired." Jim pouted.

"I am. Sorry for being human, Jim."

In the morning, Sebastian came downstairs to see Jim sprawled out over the sofa cushions, sleeping.

"Machine my arse." Sebastian said, rolling his eyes.