Fenny, eyes closed, could smell something unpleasant. She was still too sleepy to identify the smell, but she knew it was something she’d had the displeasure to smell before. She poked one arm out of the covers and grabbed her glasses, rolling onto her back as she put them on. She turned her head to find the answer to the offending smell.

“Ugh,” Fenny mumbled as she realized she’d been sleeping in a proximity that was, above else, far to close to Brad Sherwood’s armpit. With that in mind she pulled herself up and took in a better look at his sleeping form. Brad was on his stomach, feet hanging out the end of the covers, one arm dangling precariously over the side of the bed, the other stuffed halfway inside a pillowcase. Even in such an unattractive pose, with the worst possible case of bed head, and smells that were reminiscent of rotting flesh, he still looked gorgeous.

Fenny reached over and ran her finger over Brad’s strange “monkey and woman doing some weird Kama Sutra thing” tattoo. She’d been meaning to ask him its origins but realized that it was more than likely the result of heavy drinking and some equally intoxicated friends. She leaned forward and planted a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. Brad’s face instantly sported his trademark wry smile.

“More,” he mumbled sleepily.

Fenny planted a trail of kisses all the way up his spine.

“I could handle being woken this way every morning,” Brad mused, eyes still closed.

“That can be arranged, you know,” Fenny breathed, stroking Brad’s hair and trying to repair some of the damage.

“How? I live and work in LA, and you live and work here,” Brad sighed, rolling onto his back and struggling to open his eyes.

“I could find a new job,” Fenny shrugged.

“Are you serious? You’d move to LA?” Brad gasped as he was jolted into awareness.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, Fenny Grey is willing to take a risk,” Fenny mused.

“I’m a risk?” Brad asked, slightly dejected.

“No, more an investment for the future,” Fenny smiled.

Brad stared at her for a moment. “You realise this means we’re in a relationship.”

Fenny nodded.

“And we’d be living together, so you’ll have to put up with all my faults all the time,” Brad continued.

“If it means I get to roll over every morning and you’ll be there, nothing else really matters,” Fenny said softly.

Brad reached out and pulled Fenny into a long kiss. When they parted, she smiled at him sweetly.

“By the way, you need a shower, badly.”

Brad’s smile dropped.

Gina wandered back into her room towel-drying her hair after a shower. Greg was still sleeping like a baby, although she figured once she turned the hairdryer on, that should end abruptly. Sleeping with Greg (or not sleeping with Greg as it were) was going down in her rather short list of memorable life moments, alongside her first football match, her first footballer and the time she called the Australian Prime Minister an “anally retentive goit,” if somewhat accidentally.

If she was honest, which she wasn’t usually, Gina had felt nothing but the shyness of a sexually inexperienced teenager. Although there had been nothing close to sexual contact between the two of them (unless something had happened when she was asleep), the same fears still plagued her. What if my pajamas drive him into thinking I’m a freak? What if my leg involuntarily jumps and kicks him somewhere unpleasant? What if we do have sex and all I get running through my head is his impersonation of Yoda? Fortunately. none of these questions had become an issue, and after their massive giggling fit, the tension had gone and they’d fallen into a mindless discussion about how evil the Care Bears really were.

Gina plugged in her hairdryer, switched it on and grabbed her comb. Half a second later there was a cry from the bed.

“What the fuck are you doing, you sadistic bitch?”

“Morning,” Gina perked and smiled.

“Couldn’t you have done that somewhere else?” Greg spat.

“I didn’t want to wake Fenny and Brad,” she said blankly.

“Well, aren’t you just the magnanimous humanitarian,” he hissed and pulled the covers over his head.

Gina grinned devilishly, quickly grabbed the edge of the covers and shoved the hairdryer underneath. Greg snarled something unintelligible as his now bright-red face reappeared.

“You could have melted my eyes,” Greg scorned.

“Oh well, they’re pretty useless anyway, aren’t they?” Gina mused as she caught sight of Greg’s bright red, sour looking face in the mirror, with his hair doing something indescribable.

“Stop being horrible to me, it’s too early,” Greg sulked and fell back onto the pillows.

“Aw, look, if you let me do this I’ll hunt you out some coffee,” Gina said kindly.

Greg let out a grunt. “Ok, but be quick.”

“What, with my hair, or are you describing your sex life?” Gina jeered.

Greg said nothing, but would have thrown something if he could have seen well enough.

A short while later, Fenny wandered into the kitchen to find Gina pottering about.

“What are you doing?” Fenny mused.

“Making Greg icky coffee,” Gina replied.

“Better make one for Brad, too,” Fenny announced as she grabbed another mug.

“Oh yes, I noticed he had disappeared into your room,” Gina smiled.

“Hey, we didn’t, you know, or anything,” Fenny chided.

“Course,” Gina perked. “You know, I wish one of us had been shopping.”

“Crap, I hadn’t though of that. Nothing decent for breakfast,” Fenny said, slapping herself in the head, then realizing it wasn’t really her fault as Brad and Greg had turned up uninvited.

“I’ll go for a walk if you like and grab something,” Gina offered.

“You sure, ‘cos that’d be quite helpful,” Fenny chirped.

“Yeah, I’ll take Greg for a walk, he can have some glorious nicotine without stinking up your apartment,” Gina mused as Greg appeared from the bathroom furiously running his fingers through his hair.

“Do you guys have any hair styling products at all?” he asked with obvious annoyance.

“No, water is our friend,” Fenny replied.

“I thought they were like, essentials for women,” Greg huffed.

“Look, just because you’re a poser, you don’t have to take it out on us,” Fenny mused.

“Yeah, ya vain bastard,” Gina quipped.

Greg looked back and forth between the two women, obviously miffed.

“Oh, cheer up, I’m taking you out so you can smoke, then maybe you might cheer up,” Gina perked, winked at Fenny and then escorted Greg out of the door.

As soon as the door closed, Brad appeared, and copped an amused look from Fenny.

“What?” he asked as he run his finger through his hair.

“Nice underpants,” Fenny nodded.

Brad looked down at his purple, tiger-striped undies and turned a rather intriguing shade of red.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

“They’re lovely, really,” Fenny said, fighting hard not to double over laughing,

“No, they’re appalling. Ritza’s idea of sexy,” Brad sighed.

“Ritza’s?” Fenny said, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to mention her name,” Brad cussed.

“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” Fenny sighed, strolling over and running her finger around the waistband of his horrendous underwear. “I feel I may have to remove the offending item.”

“What will you do to them?” Brad gasped.

“Deposit them in a place more worthy of such vulgarity,” Fenny scorned.

“The trash can?” Brad asked.

“No the washing machine,” Fenny smiled.

“Oh,” Brad perked. “Hold on, I’m not going all day without underwear,” he added.

“It’s ok, I’ve still got your red boxers. I thought Ritza was wearing them first day I saw her, then realized she couldn’t be because I never gave them back to you,” Fenny mused.

“You’ve been hoarding my underwear?” Brad gasped.

“Only the good bits,” Fenny grinned. “Now, I have to remove whatever it is you’re wearing,” she added. She was halted by a knock at the door. “If that’s Gina, I’ll kill her.”