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The blankets flew off of their own accord in the frigid chill. Again. Billy sighed, groped for a corner and burrowed back under.
“Dammit, Billy, budge over,” Dom complained.
“You fucking budge over, I’m on the edge here.” Billy bit right back, “M’fucking freezing.”
“You are not, you’re like a hot water bottle, and I’m on fire, so budge over.”
“Well, I guess it's safe to assume I caught your arsing plague, then, isn’t it?” Billy grumbled. “And I can’t go any farther over. Not my fault the sofa bed is two hundred years old and full of sprung springs. If you’re hot, you go sleep on that piece of shite.”
“Oi, you offered me the bed when we got here.” Dom’s voice turned phlegmy mid-sentence and he went into a violent coughing spasm.
“Because you were getting sick.” Billy sighed and rolled to face him. “Turn over, you big ponce.”
Dom hacked and rattled, turning desperately to his stomach, and Billy pressed his hand firmly between his arching, convulsing shoulder blades until the spasm passed.
Dom moaned pitifully. “You know you’re in for this part later,” he muttered into his pillow.
“I count the days,” Billy flopped back down, leaving his hand on Dom’s back. Dom’s skin was soft and warm, and Billy wanted really badly to wrap his feverishly freezing self around him like some kind of octopus. His head was going woozy and his skin clammy and there was a yucky tickle beginning in his throat. This was not good at all. “We’ll call someone in the morning, tell to put us up in a hotel or… somewhere else for the week.”
“I can’t find my phone.”
“What?”
Dom lifted his face from the pillow, “I said, I can’t find my phone. It went missing when we got here.”
Billy head was pounding and sweat broke out over his forehead, trying to put two and two together. “Fucking Christ, Dom, how the hell are we supposed to know when to go to set then?”
“Well I was hoping that whenever somebody called, I’d find the phone, wasn’t I?” Dom said sardonically, “S’not my fucking fault somebody left his back in Wellington.”
Billy threw the blankets off and groaned. Stuck in on the South Island for a week, on-call with no phone, and now both of them had to share the single twin bed in this musty old cabin with no bloody tea, and to put a cherry on it, they were both sick as dogs. And sleeping with Dom was hotter than hell. Not in a fun way at all. “I hate you a lot right now.”
“Fine, whatever,” Dom rolled over and wrapped himself around Billy tightly, “It’s fucking freezing in here.”