Maxwell felt like death incarnate when he woke up the next morning. His head was pounding, his body felt sore and wobbly in a way he'd never experienced before, and he just wanted to turn into the warmth he was already clinging to and go back to sleep. If he slept more, he'd probably sleep off this terrible, annoying pain.
A soft chuckle, that normally would have been something Maxwell would normally enjoy, sounded above Maxwell's ear. Maxwell flinched, and the chuckle grew louder.
"It seems my sweet sleeping beauty is finally awake." Andrew's voice was deep, a rumble under Maxwell's ear. Maxwell shivered, leaning back and wincing as every action made his body ache. He felt like a truck had run over him. His whole body felt like a damn bruise, a creaking door that needed oil.
He was sure that Andrew could hear him as he moved.
"I don't want to be." Maxwell muttered, his mouth feeling like he'd shoved cotton balls inside of it the night before. Andrew chuckled again.
