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The morning didn’t begin with birds singing outside the window, like Snow White’s mornings probably do, but with a pig snoring right next to his ear. Bigby was convinced Colin did it on purpose. All because Gren had stayed over last night. And really, what was he supposed to do? Make him, drunk as he was, walk all the way back to his own apartment? Bigby wouldn’t have been able to drive him, and he was absolutely sure he wouldn’t have managed a trip there and back.
His head didn’t hurt, but his throat felt dry and scratchy, and he badly wanted a drink and a cigarette. Buying a mattress and putting it on the floor had turned out to be a pretty good idea after all. Sure, the place had gotten even more cramped, but at least he didn’t have to wreck his neck and back sleeping in that damn chair anymore. And now a long-time guest could sleep with him, instead of Bigby having to travel halfway across the city to Gren’s place all the time.
Not wanting to wake anyone — despite a powerful urge to kick the annoying pig — Bigby carefully slipped out of the prison of long arms and got up from the mattress, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the nightstand.
Scratching his ass through his boxers, Bigby shuffled into the kitchen, immediately opening the window and leaning out slightly. He lit a cigarette, setting the pack and lighter on the windowsill, and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the street. He was used to getting up this early — with a job like his, you got used to worse — even if he didn’t need to now. He was on vacation. Paid vacation.
He’d seen Snow not that long ago, and she’d looked awful. Which was understandable — doing the work of two people wasn’t exactly easy — but she’d insisted Bigby had to take this vacation.
He was just about to stub out the cigarette and close the window when Gren pressed up against him from behind, wrapping his arms around Bigby’s waist. That kind of affection was rare from him.
“Your mini-pig is already pissing me the fuck off,” Gren mumbled into the back of Bigby’s head, burying his face between his shoulder and neck.
“And good morning to you too, Gren,” Bigby smiled, finally putting out the cigarette and tossing it out the window.
“Maybe I should say a few kind words to him?” Gren asked — probably rhetorically — running his fingers over Bigby’s hairy stomach and sliding them lower, toward his slightly sagging boxers.
“Not now…” Bigby replied, though not really to the question, covering Gren’s hand with his own and guiding it back up to his waist.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” an irritated voice snapped behind them, and Gren jumped away from Bigby, turning toward the uninvited guest. “Are you completely fucking insane?! Don’t do that gay shit here, for fuck’s sake!”
Gren growled and frowned, looking at Bigby like he was waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.
“Shut your snout, Colin! No one asked you,” Gren snapped, grabbing the cigarette pack from the windowsill and pulling one out with his lips, lighting it immediately.
“I live here too, you know!”
“Only as long as Bigby wants you to! So don’t get cocky, huh? You could’ve just walked past,” Gren shot back, followed by a barely audible “asshole,” as he nudged Bigby aside and leaned against the windowsill, blowing smoke out through his mouth.
“Bigby!” Colin whined.
“What?” the Wolf asked, surprised, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gren’s right. I’m not kicking you out, obviously, but this is my apartment…”
“Why the hell are you taking his side?!”
“Because, Naf-Naf, you’re nothing more than a house pig. The Farm’s been missing you for a long time,” Gren nearly hissed, not even looking in Colin’s direction.
Colin’s real name was taboo in this apartment, and honestly, among Fables in general. Just another reminder of the Homelands, and another reason why he lived with this Wolf at all.
“Fuck you both! Assholes…” Colin stormed out of the kitchen and seemed to lock himself in the bathroom.
“Gren…”
“Too much? Let him choke on his tears,” Gren said, crushing the cigarette against the windowsill and leaving it there. “Last time he talked shit about Beowulf and my mom, you just barked at him. But when I, the evil troll, remind him of his brainless brothers, suddenly I’m the villain? Is that how it works?”
“I didn’t say—” Bigby sighed, covering his face with his hand. “You two need to stop snapping at each other.”
“Ironic.”
“I’m serious, Gren. I’m sick of your constant bickering. I’m this close to throwing both of you out the window.”
“Say that to your pet, not me. I’m just returning the favor.”
Bigby sighed again and rested his head on Gren’s shoulder.
“Nerissa invited me to some café the Hatter and Dormouse just opened.”
“Inviting me on a date?”
“If the Little Mermaid’s presence doesn’t bother you—then yeah. I am.”
Gren smirked, watching the pedestrians outside.
“I’ll think about it.”
“But you still need to apologize to Colin…” Bigby said quietly, brushing his lips against Gren’s temple.
Gren let out an annoyed groan but didn’t argue.