Room Service

We had only arrived home four hours ago and I was still knackered. It had been such a good party but I was too tired. I’m not a ‘night-bird’, in case you didn’t already know. The alarm hadn’t gone off yet but I could feel him watching me. I opened an eye and there he was, inches from my face. I looked over at the clock and groaned as I saw that he had another hour before he had to leave for work.

I heard the telltale splash from the toilet upstairs, as its contents ricocheted down the pipes above my head. We weren’t the only ones awake then. It wouldn’t be long before dad came down and began loading the dishwasher, cleaning the kitchen in the next room. I stretched and rolled around the bed. Matthew was still watching me, laughing at the noises I was making.

“Bugger off,” I said with my eyes closed. “Let me sleep!”
He kissed me on the forehead and settled beside me.
Dad came down the stairs and the familiar banging began.
“It’s cold,” I mumbled, pulling the duvet across us.

Then there was a faint knock on the door, the creak of the hinge as it swung open. No pause to wait for a ‘bugger off!’ or similar response. I huddled into his side, mentally picturing myself from the doorway, hoping I was concealed. Matthew twitched obviously, his hand moving downwards.
“Cup of tea, coffee?”
“No dad!”
“Bacon sandwich, breakfast, Matthew?”
“No, I’m OK thanks.”
“OK, if you say so.”
The door finally closed. We both exhaled and I whispered,
“Did it look like we were wearing pyjamas at all, do you think?”
“No, probably not.”
"Ah."