Work Text:
Sunday. The clock wasn't even 8 AM. Bojan was lying on his side, staring at Jan who was sound asleep in the other bed. They always made fun of him for sleeping late but now Bojan was jealous of his abilities to tune out the outside world completely once he dozed off. What he would give to be able to do that now.
A loud noise from the kitchen sent a wave of pain through Bojan's head for the fifth time in the past ten minutes, making him squint and frown.
That's fucking it.
He took a deep breath and slowly sat up, careful not to upset his hungover brain with sudden movements lest he wanted to mop the floors first thing in the morning. Bojan shuffled to the door and could barely stand the hallway light even with his eyes barely two horizontal lines once he stepped out. He made it to the kitchen, stopped in the doorway, and just stared at Kris' back as he once again opened the cutlery drawer with way too much force. At that moment a couple of years in the prison for manslaughter didn't seem so bad to Bojan.
"Kris," he barked, though it came out barely as a hoarse whisper, before Kris could slam the drawer closed. "I swear to fucking God."
"Oh." Kris turned to look at him over his shoulder. And smiled, that bastard. "Did I wake you?"
"Take a guess."
"...sorry."
Bojan rubbed his face. Kris held up the sandwich he had been making.
"Want one?"
"No," Bojan grumbled and turned on his heels.
He got back in bed, Jan still sleeping in his completely unaware of anything, and pulled the blanket right up to his ears. To his delight it did actually get quiet, and Bojan started to doze back off into sweet unconsciousness. Until.
The door opened, the hallway light stabbing Bojan right into the optic nerves even through his eyelids.
"Hey, Bojan, where's our –"
"I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS"