April glared at Andy, sitting in his lap and refusing to let him get up to do whatever lame thing was interrupting her near-nap. His guitar sat awkwardly onher lap and his while he played, but for some reason – totally not the human furnace of joy she was buried into – it was comfortable.
"But, I mean… I figured you were gonna take a nap," Andy said with an unsure chuckle. "So… I–"
"You're about to screw it up. God," she rolled her eyes, her smirk unmistakeable but definitely not there, and nestled back into him as best she could. "I said keep playing."
She smiled when Andy strummed the first chord, and kept that comfortable smile when his voice broke into a little, wonderful croon about how rad she was and how they were the "champions of marriage." April's eyes dropped low, the delightful weight of his words guiding her into a relaxing sleep with her arms still around Andy.