-4-

"Relax, Chucky. They don't need me today."

The doll visible shrank down as the anger released out of him, slowly, sort of like the helium coming out of a balloon. "They'd fucking better not," he grumbled, sinking down again against the soft mattress. He pulled the covers above his head and tugged Andy down towards him. "Be lazy with me. I don't wanna feel lousier than usual, with you always making me feel like I need to do some damn thing."

Andy chuckled softly. He shook his head, but there wasn't any protest from him. "What, we'll just lay here all day, then?" he asked, curling protectively around the doll. He buried his face into the side of a pillow to shield off a coughing spasm that Chucky could feel.

"Stop…it," he croaked, feeling his own throat beginning to itch. "You're making me sick."

"I thought you were sick already," said Andy, rather simply. "Wasn't it you who made me sick?"

Chucky punched his arm hastily. Andy reacted with a small playful shove. Of course, the doll retaliated with another shove, a bit more forceful this time, and this became a bit of a tussle. If you were there in the room, you could hear a bit of breathless laughter and perhaps a less than savory word or two from Chucky's mouth. The pair gradually had moved from the middle of the bed to dangerously near the edge, and even as Andy shouted out, it was much too late, and they fell from the bed onto the floor with a loud crash.

Andy poked his head out from the tangle of sheets. "I think we broke the lamp," he breathed, looking at where said lamp had tumbled off the bedside table and was laying on its side, looking quite defeated.

"Well isn't that fucking peachy- now the neighbors will think we have filthy sex," replied the doll.

Andy smacked him for that one.

"Help me clean this up," he began, picking up the larger pieces of the lamp in his hand. He handed some over to the doll. "I don't want either of us stepping on this."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," Chucky gave in weak sarcasm as he held out his hands to hold the shards that the young man handed to him. He slowly spread out his legs to try and untangle himself from the sheets. Not much use- seeing as he was still trying to keep a safe hold on the fragments of the broken lamp. He shook his head. "Don't you think we should get out of this mess first?"

Andy looked about him, the idea slowly dawning on his still fever-ridden mind. "Oh," he mumbled, very much upset over the prospect that he would either have to slowly untangle himself while holding onto the pieces he already clutched, or that he would have to simply put them down and pick them up all over again after he'd gotten out from the bed sheets. He sighed and lay the pieces down and started to pull the sheets away from where they held about his legs and waist.

As if it had been jinxed, Andy gripped one of the shards much too tight and cut himself. The blood pooled out into his palm and he groaned.

Chucky merely grimaced and continued to pry himself away whilst holding onto the shards of porcelain. Andy tried to remedy himself, but clearly he was getting nowhere. "No, no, stop it, you dumbass," Chucky began. "Just- just hold on, okay? Don't move a damn muscle. Not even one. You got it?"

It took a bit of time, but at last they'd cleaned up the broken lamp and managed to pile the sheets and comforter back onto the bed. Andy had stumbled into the bathroom and, with the doll's help, had bandaged up his hand. "So much for sleeping in," Chucky complained, kicking at the floor crossly.

Andy shrugged. "We'd have to get up eventually," he reasoned. He coughed silently, and it made the doll flinch. He looked up at the young man and tried to hide his curiosity. "Why are you so much worse off than I am, anyways? What are you, a pussy?"

Andy tried to laugh, but the coughing was stopping him from doing any such thing.

"Alright, alright, don't fucking choke on it," Chucky jested tersely to try and ease the worry that was growing.

It was unnecessary, really, that he should feel this upset over Andy, but sometimes- and especially as of late- he really couldn't quite help it much anymore. It seemed to be the more time the two of them spent together; the more it seemed that his fondness for Andy grew. As annoying as he claimed it to be, he couldn't quite get rid of it, and it had come to a point where he had started to decide there wasn't much reason to pretend it wasn't there anymore.

However, it didn't mean he continued to show this affection in his usual prickly manner.

"Don't overwork yourself- as ugly as you are, you're not actually a pack mule," he told him. Andy grinned at him as the coughs gradually subsided. "Thanks, buddy," he started, elbowing open the kitchen door. "Though I gotta say; if I'm as ugly as a pack mule, then what on earth are you supposed to look like?"

Chucky could only gawk at him.

Andy opened the cabinet and found himself staring for a moment or two before realizing he needed to be taking out bowls to eat breakfast. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. Because he'd just broken a lamp and cut his hand, he decided perhaps it was best that he just very carefully take out the bowls and everything else needed.

In fact, he took everything so slowly that it wasn't until Chucky had come into the kitchen that a problem became quite apparent. The doll had sat up on the chair to find poor Andy still gone somewhere else in his mind, milk still pouring in an empty bowl that had no cereal. It was starting to overflow onto the floor when Chucky shouted, "Andy! What the hell are you doing?"

Andy jumped, startled, and found himself staring at two wide blue eyes staring at him in a mixture of amusement and some other mysterious emotion he couldn't quite place. He assumed it was frustration. He looked down to see the mess he'd made and hid his face in his injured hand.

"Just- just take this," he said, putting down the milk and rubbing at his eyes. "I just don't understand what's wrong with me today…"

He turned from the table to fetch the towel that hung on the stove handle, and Chucky tried to warn him; but it was all in vain, and it seemed that the world was out to get Andy today. He slipped on the milk he'd spilled on the floor and came crashing down, bringing the bowls and chair to the floor with him.

Chucky heard Andy mutter something under his breath, and to this day, he'll tell you he hasn't the slightest clue if Andy had finally let a bad one slip in that moment of time. He hopped down from the chair to find Andy sitting, half-cross legged, hands in his lap, and showing perhaps the most pitiful expression that the doll had ever seen cross the young man's face.

Before he allowed his heart to break- give him a bit of credit, dears, he's at least admitting he has one of those- he folded his arms up over his chest in disapproval and leaned down to look at Andy.

"You know what? Don't you do another damn thing, alright?" said he. "How about I get some stuff done around here, and you bet the lazy shit today, ya' hear?"

Andy just nodded quietly. Four accidents for today were enough for him to take the hint.