"Griff!"

Griffin was asleep. He had right to be asleep. He'd been left in power lines in the middle of a war zone by the bastard who was currently shouting his name as though his mere presence upset his chakras. So, he was going to continue to be asleep even if it killed him.

"Griffin!"

Griff put the pillow over his head.

"Griffin! For fucks sake!"

Now the duvet joined it, but his feet were getting kinda cold and even for a geordie the winters in Canada were a little much. Kinda helped the burns though. He heard David stop outside of his door.

"If you don't answer me I'll just come in anyway."

Griffin rolled his eyes, pulled on some shorts (only because if he didn't, she'd whine) and jumped to the kitchen. David's girlfriend was sitting at the table and nearly upended the entire fucking thing with the mini-heart attack she always had when one of them didn't use a door.

"You ever gonna get used to that, darling?" Griffin asked, as he headed over to the fridge. He could sense Millie's eyes narrowing even if he couldn't see them do so. He didn't think she liked him very much.

"David's looking for you."
"Aye, I know. Why d'ya think I'm down here?"

Millie tutted, Griff rolled his eyes. He pulled some bread out of the fridge and frowned at it.

"Why's the bread in the fridge?"
"Bread goes in the fridge."
"Nah. Bread goes cold and soggy in the fridge. It should be on the bench."
"No."
"Breadbins! Why would breadbins exist if bread lived in the fridge? What the fuck is up with you yanks?"

David popped into existence and Millie shrieked.

"David! How many times!? We have doors!"

Even David rolled his eyes, and the fact that he didn't cringe away at the look Millie gave him was enough to earn him points in Griffin's eyes.

"Just… Get used to it, Millie. You've lived with it long enough now."
"Er, no, you've lived with it all your life. Not me. Now I'm on the run, stuck in some freezing backwater hell-hole with someone arguing with me about where you keep bread!"
"It was in the fridge, David."

David glanced blankly for a second.

"Why was it in the fridge?"
"See!"

Millie's facial expression was becoming worrying.

"What the fuck, anyway, Griff? I swear those burns are getting worse."
"Aye coz leaving me in the middle of a pylon is never gonna leave me with bad burns, like, is it?"
"I said sorry. How many times do I need to repeat it?"
"Sorry doesn't fucking mean owt, man."
"I can't understand what you're saying."
"David, you fucker, you kna exactly what I'm saying. Shut the fuck up."

David smirked and Griffin turned back to the fridge.

"Why've we got no fucking food, anyway?"
"Have we not?"

Millie glanced back up from the book on the table.

"Nope."
"Argh, Mill, go to the shops."

She looked horrified.

"I'd have to walk! You two can just vanish!"
"Aye, not in public thar."
"Oh, right. Sure. No. It's cold."
"Go on, Millie. You won't get recognised."

David did a cute face that almost made Griffin retch.

"Dave, divint do that, man. It's creepy."
"It doesn't work, either."
"If it was really cold, Griffin would be wearing clothes."

Griff pulled a face.

"You haven't been to my neck of the woods, have you mate? I'll take you out there one night. Loadsa lasses wearing barely owt. Weather doesn't matter."
"Er, no."
"Argh, stop being such a boring twat, Millie. You can come n'all."
"I don't want to."
"You'd get loadsa attention from blokes. They'd know you were from somewhere else."
"How would they know that?"
"One, you're not orange. Two, you divint put make-up on with a trowel. Three, your hairs not huge. Four, you'd be wearing a coat."

Mille rolled her eyes and turned back to the book she was reading.

"Where are you even from?" David asked, and Griffin glared.
"How can you not tell?"
"Your accent kinda… jumps."
"Nar, it fucking doesn't."
"Yes, it fucking does."
"Anyone in England would know exactly-"
"We're not in England."
"Fucking tell me about it."

"Can we stop all of the swearing, please?"
"Another reason why you'd be an outsider in Newcastle, there pet."

"I have no idea where that is," David stated, blankly.
"Aye, coz you all think that London is the only place in the UK."
"Do you think we should go and see my sister?"

Griffin stared at him.

"No."
"Why not?"
"Whey, think about it."
"I hate to say this, but I agree with Griffin."
"Y'kna, love. I get the impression that you don't like me that much."
"What on earth would give you that idea?"

Griffin pretended to think.

"You whinge about my music."
She pulled a face, "British rap."
"You whinge about my drinking."
"You're drunk a lot of the time."
"About the video games."
"It's all you do."
"The mess."
"There's no need for it."
"About the play fights."
"Yeah, that's just stupid."

Griffin turned to David.

"How d'ya put up with that?"

David shrugged.

"Thanks, David. Oh, and what about that time you wanted to let me die?"

David felt as though he needed to interject.

"Hey, Griff, you've managed 10 minutes of conversation without storming off in a temper."

Griffin glared, the inevitable temper flaring.

"Aye, and it'll be over soon if someone doesn't find me some fucking food, like."
"You could go yourself."
"You fucking know I cannit put shirts on over this, you wanker. And it's your fault, so you should fucking deal with it."

David admitted in his head it was a fair point, but wasn't going to out loud.

"What do you want? I'll get take-out."

Griffin's face almost lit up, but Millie nearly jumped out of her seat.

"David! We're on the run! For fucks sake, I'll go to the shops!"
"Thought we weren't allowed to swear."

If looks could kill, Griffin would be dead by now. Millie stormed out, and the front door slammed a few minutes later. David smirked.

"I really need to find some friends without anger management issues."
"Fuck off."
"At least it wasn't you this time."
"Wanna shoot some shit up on the xbox?"
"Yeah."
"Cool."

They moved into the living room, which was slightly warmer, and sat down on the sofa.

"What'd you want me for, anyway?"

David snorted.

"Oh, I was, erm, gonna go to the shops. I just wanted to know if you needed anything."

Griff smirked.

"You sneaky little twat."
"I know, I know."

The game fired up, and David was thinking something he'd thought many times before.

"Hey, Griff."
"Huh?"
"Why aren't you mad at me?"

Griffin frowned.

"Don't get me wrong, I was. But I just can't seem to stay annoyed at ya, you little fuck."

David snorted.

"The cute face does work then."
"Don't ever use that on me, or I'll make sure I'll break through it."

David laughed.

"Nah, mate, I'm serious. Try that one on me and I'll punch you so hard you'll be knocked back into last week."
"I'll bear that in mind."

When Millie walked back through the door, it was to the disconcerting sound of lots of shrieking and two people in fits of laugher. She went into the living room, hands full of bags, to see the two men physically doubled over. She glanced at the screen and saw a dark room, the shrieking of zombies, and a large, fat zombie with a purple ring around it being jumped at by another, confused looking zombie in a hoodie.

"Erm…" she said, and the men laughed even more. David was actually crying. "What?"

David managed to control his laughter for a couple of seconds, but Griff continued.

"Griff just got… he got a Boomer… With some Boomer bile."

David started laughing again.

"And… And then… It just stopped."
"Right…"
"And the Hunter… It's proper confused and it's… It's just jumping around. Oh my God… That's the best thing… Since the Witch turned back around…"

They both descended into laughter again and Millie shook her head, sighing.

"Can someone help me with these bags?"

She was completely ignored, and so stamped into the kitchen to clash drawers. She didn't know why she bothered sometimes.

a/n: Hiya, first story for this particular crew. But I was watching something with Jamie Bell in the other night and it's kinda wormed into my brain. I have a couple of disclaimers. You yanks have no clue where Jamie comes from, but it's County Durham, a place in the north-east of England. So, considering I'm also from the region (I'm claiming Griff as a geordie for the sakes of claiming) I'm allowed to insult geordie lasses. We all know it's true. Don't get upset. Fair play, he's not got an accent, but he's definitely not Irish! He even has a northern face! Haha. Secondly, that last bit was an afterthought. But it's a completely TRUE story of something I managed the other night. And I was so proud of it that I had to put it in here so everyone could know!
Thanks for reading, now I shall go and finish my coursework.
-fs