The sounds of his blaring alarm was a familiar rude awakening that had Arthur slapping at the clock on his bedside table, fingers searching for the right button. At last, he managed to click it off, and blessed silence fell in his dark bedroom. He lay there for a few moments, eyes still closed, taking the risk that he might drift off again, but not actually worried about it. That's what second alarms were for.

It was so nice to drift in the space between awake and asleep. Still, he only allowed himself to stay in bed for another minute or so before he sat up and swung his feet over the side to the floor.

"Mm." He stretched, his back popping faintly, then rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms to force the sleepiness out of them. Habitually, he slipped his feet into his house shoes and wiggled his toes into the soft warmth before he stood and shuffled towards the kitchen.

His kettle was filled with water then went onto a burner as he switched it on, then a frypan, bread, eggs, and shredded cheese populated the counter. Arthur ran on autopilot, cutting out the middle of two slices of bread, buttering both sides, and dropping them neatly into the frying pan before setting it on its own burner. An egg was cracked and dropped into each slice, the burner was turned to medium heat, and then he left it to wander back towards his bathroom to wash his face.

The splash of cold water woke up him up enough that he finally opened his eyes all the way, blinking away the water and at the brightness of the bathroom lights. He patted his face dry with a hand towel then went back to the kitchen to check on his breakfast. The toast was sizzling quietly, and he had to dig a spatula out of its draw to check how they were coming; just slightly golden brown, the bottom of the egg firm. Arthur flipped both pieces of toast to begin cooking the other side. The kettle wasn't quite to the point of whistling, but he still shut off its burner and poured the water into a mug, then left it to cool just slightly while he packed some loose-leaf black tea into his tea ball, just enough to make a single cup to go with breakfast. By the time he dropped the infuser into the mug, his toast was ready to be flipped one last time, and then Arthur set himself a spot at his table.

While the toast finished, he went back to the bedroom again, this time to retrieve his phone from where he'd left it by his alarm clock the night before to charge. There was only one notification waiting for him, a text message that Alfred had sent rather late last night. Arthur clicked it open as he headed towards the kitchen, only to freeze in the hallway when the photo he'd received finished loading.

It was Alfred, a selfie, which wasn't the least bit surprising. What made Arthur stop mid-step was the fact that the American appeared to be naked, or shirtless at the very least, and was wearing a collar. The lighting was odd, so he must have taken it at whatever club the Vargas brothers had wanted to visit. It was, he had to admit, a very nice picture. His appreciation, however, was entirely overridden by his confusion at Alfred's lack of clothing. It took him several long seconds to get over the shock, and then he sent a text back asking what exactly Alfred had gotten up to last night. He doubted the blue-eyed blond was awake this early, but he still had to ask. Al would respond whenever he woke up, and until then, Arthur would enjoy his breakfast and get to work.

X

It was uncomfortably hot and sticky.

Trapped beneath blankets and two bodies, Alfred could feel himself sweating, only adding to the slick stickiness of the situation. And holy fuck, he was thirsty. Clearly, he'd fallen asleep without brushing his teeth. The gross, thick, fuzzy feel and sour taste were enough proof of that.

"Ugh…Fe…let me up…"

"Mm."

"Feliks." He nudged at the bodies that were half sprawled on top of him.

"Mmmnstop it." Feliks turned over, not moving off of Alfred at all.

"Fe, I swear, I'll never do another surprise photo shoot again if you don't let me up," the larger blond threatened, and Feliks giggled sleepily.

"Yeah, you will," came the groggy, sing-song response, and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Nope. Never again."

"Then I'll fire you.'

"Uh-huh, and then you'll have to find a new incubus to make your designs look good."

A face nuzzled into Alfred's shoulder. "My designs always look good."

"I'm still your favorite Ken doll."

"Mmm…true." With that, Feliks rolled all the way over Alfred's back, wrapping himself around a still mostly asleep Toris and pulling the brunet with him to the other side of the bed.

Free at last and already feeling far less overheated without two extra bodies, Alfred sat up and ran a hand through his hair—ugh, definitely needed a shower.

"I'm going to make coffee." There was only a soft hum as a response, the pair already close to sleep again. Alfred stood, found a pair of boxers to put on, then left quietly, letting them have their time alone together.

The living room beyond was a complete disaster.

Mildly surprised by the mess, Alfred surveyed the remnants of what must have been a very interesting night. The pillows and cushions had been removed from the couches and strewn about the floor. Various articles of clothing were everywhere, discarded in careless haste.

Alfred rubbed his hands over his face, decided it was a mess that could wait, and picked his way across the destruction to the kitchen to start up the automatic coffee maker. The smell of it brewing after a minute or so was enough to summon Toris and Feliks, both bleary eyed and bedraggled and not bothered in the least to be naked.

Looking more like a zombie than a nymph, Feliks shuffled into the kitchen and began hunting for a mug; Alfred took pity and handed him one, since Feliks apparently had yet to actually open his eyes.

"Thanks."

"Hungover?"

Feliks groaned and leaned against the counter while Toris began looking in the fridge for breakfast. "I was fine until I stood up. Human booze is so weak compared to what mythicals brew."

Alfred and Toris nodded in agreement to that. They were all so used to going to human bars and barely being affected by regular alcohol that last night had been…well, Toris had been sober so he could drive them back, but Alfred and Feliks might be better off not remembering exactly what took place.

Humming, Toris left the fridge and wandered into the pantry, returning a moment later with a sack of russet potatoes under one arm, an onion in hand, and an armful of other ingredients, all of which he deposited on the counter. Feliks watched him absently, not seeming to notice when Alfred poured coffee into the mug in his hand.

"Are you making blynai?" the shorter blond asked, and Toris nodded. "Need any help?"

"No." There was a laugh in Toris' dark blue eyes, his smile fond. "You should probably recover before you mess with knives or hot surfaces."

Feliks gasped with exaggerated indignation. "You don't trust my cooking skills?"

"I don't trust your hangover."

"Yeah, me, either," Alfred agreed between sips of his own coffee.

Scowling, Feliks looked between Toris and Alfred then huffed and stalked off back towards the bedroom, taking his coffee with him. "Don't know why I put up with this. Rude."

"Love you, too, Liks," Toris called after the nymph, and Feliks raised one hand in response, his fingers curled into a fist with his thumb poking between his index and middle fingers in a familiarly obscene gesture that only made Toris laugh. "He hasn't had to deal with a hangover in a while."

"Sure is cranky."

"He's always cranky."

"Maybe you should get him a kitten."

"I'm afraid he'd love it more than he loves me."

"Naw, that's not possible."

"Easy for you to say, Mister Popular. You broke more hearts last night than I've ever even tried to woo."

Alfred shrugged and swirled his coffee. "Typical night out. Do you need any help?" He downed the last of his mug and set it in the sink to wash.

Toris shook his head and set to peeling the potatoes he'd chosen from the sack. "If you want to go shower, I'll be done by the time you are."

"You sure?"

The potato peeler was waved dismissively. "Go on."

"I'll handle cleanup, then," Alfred promised as he stepped away.

"Sure, sure."

Since his assistance was clearly not needed, Alfred did as Toris had suggested and went to his own room to shower, and brush his teeth, and just generally rid himself of the unpleasant remnants of last night. He spotted his jeans as he was crossing the living room, haphazardly tossed and partially inside out from how hastily they'd been discarded. Alfred had to roll his eyes at himself—really, he can't have been that drunk—as he picked them up and fished around in the pockets for his phone. It had died sometime during the night, so he plugged it in beside his bed and left it to charge while he got cleaned up.

His room and bathroom, at least, had not been caught up in last night's drunken haze, and were exactly as he'd left them. Thankfully, he could shower in peace, and Alfred took full advantage of that, not emerging for nearly half an hour, and feeling about a thousand times better. He dried off and dressed, finally brushed his teeth, and checked how his phone was doing. It wasn't fully charged yet, but it was far enough that he could turn it on and take it out to the kitchen while he ate breakfast. Buzzing as it came to life, it immediately let him know that he had an unopened text from Arthur; Arthur paused to open it.

Did you lose your shirt?

Ah, right, the selfie.

Alfred read the text a few times before he settled on a response.

The Vargases picked a weird place for drinks.

He didn't wait for a text back, knowing that Arthur was at work and probably busy, and slipped the phone into his back pocket as he went back out into the living room.

Toris turned when Alfred reappeared, a plate full of bacon and sausage in hand. "You look like you're feeling better." At some point, he'd found and put on a pair of jeans that looked like they might be Feliks'.

"Oh, yeah. Much." Al took a seat at the table, claiming one of the three places that Toris had set out. "Fe's not out yet?"

"He's taking a bath."

"Ah. So, we'll see him in a few hours."

"I heard that!" Feliks' muffled, indignant voice shouted, and Alfred grinned.

"Am I wrong?"

There was silence as Alfred and Toris waited for a response, and both laughed quietly when none came.

"He knows I'm right, he just doesn't wanna admit it."

"I won't argue with you." Toris set the plate on the table and sat opposite of Alfred before beginning to serve himself.

"It looks delicious," Alfred complimented, snagging a few of the blynai for himself."

Toris gave the other a sly look. "I'm surprised you're hungry, after how much you fed last night."

Not letting himself feel flustered by that, Alfred shrugged and picked a few sausage. "Alcohol makes it worse." Toris hummed noncommittally as if he didn't quite believe that, but Alfred didn't bother trying to convince him. They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before the sounds of music began to drift out of Toris and Feliks' room. They paused in their meal, listening, heads cocked as they tried to place the familiar melody.

"…Paderewski?" Toris guessed, and Alfred nodded slowly.

"I think so."

"He always was fond of his piano concertos."

"It's the best music for relaxing," Feliks interrupted, venturing out into the kitchen in a silk robe, and probably nothing else. "It smells amazing out here." He kissed Toris' cheek before he sat and loaded up his own plate with the brunet's cooking.

Having a late brunch with his best friends, accompanied by the sounds of Paderewski, was probably one of the better mornings Alfred had ever had.

X

Arthur couldn't believe his day had devolved to this. He'd had such a lovely morning, good breakfast, plenty of sleep, a nice walk to work before the rain set in. Absolutely lovely. And now his neck was burning, and he had his eyes glued to the papers on his desk in a desperate attempt to block Gilbert out.

"Vell? You vent out last night, didn't you? Did anyzhing happen?" With both hands flat against Arthur's desk, Gilbert leaned forward earnestly. "Come on, tell me ve didn't do all zhat shopping for nozhing."

"It wasn't for nothing," Arthur sighed, giving in to the Prussian's pestering. "I just haven't…had the chance."

"Vhy not? You two have great chemistry."

"I don't want to wear something like that and not do anything. It would be wasteful."

"But if you don't vear zhem, you'll never use zhem."

Arthur groaned and put his head down on his desk. "I know. And I want to—obviously, he's bloody gorgeous and charming and perfect—but we just never seem to get that far."

Straightening, Gilbert shrugged and put his hands on his hips. "Ask him, zhen."

It took a few seconds for those words to process, then Arthur looked up at Gilbert with a suspicious sort of confusion. "What?"

"Ask him vhy you haven't had sex yet."

"No!"

"Vhy not? Vhat if he's got a reason? Vouldn't you vant to know?"

"You don't just ask someone why you haven't shagged yet."

Gilbert rolled his eyes so hard Arthur thought he might strain something. "Zhis coming from zhe famed former punk? Sexual deviant extraordinaire?"

He let his head fall back onto the desk. "That was a long time ago."

"Mm-hm. Ask him."

Arthur groaned but didn't otherwise move. Silent, Gilbert picked up the blond's phone and placed it in front of him.

"You're really going to make me ask him, aren't you."

"Vhat else are friends for?"

The noise Arthur made was somewhere between a groan and a wail, though he kept his voice down. "Fine. Git."

The insult was met with a dismissive wave. "Ja, ja. It's lunch time, anyvay. Just call him and ask."

With a resigned sign, Arthur logged out of his computer for his lunch break and picked up his phone, clicking it on to find that Alfred had responded to his text.

"A weird place," no kidding.

He gave Gilbert one last sour look—the albino only grinned at him—before tapping the phone icon in the corner of the screen and putting it to his ear as it rang.

"Hello?" Alfred's voice sounded just when Arthur thought it was going to go to voicemail.

"Uh," Arthur glanced at Gilbert, slightly panicked, "er, hello, Alfred."

"Hey, Artie, what's up?"

"Loosen up," Gilbert hissed, and Arthur swiped at him with a frantic glare.

"I was wondering if you had a moment to talk."

"Yeah, I—" his voice suddenly grew distant, "shut up, Fe, I swear to—" the rest was too garbled for Arthur to make out, but he thought it was safe to assume that Feliks was teasing Alfred about him. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm not busy."

"He's abandoning his friends!"

"Shut up, Feliks!"

Arthur couldn't keep the laugh out of his voice. "What's he talking about?"

"He's making me'n Toris learn yoga with him like some sort of demonic personal trainer," the last bit was clearly aimed at Feliks, and Arthur heard the indignant tone of the fashion designer's response even though he couldn't tell what he said.

"Why would you need a personal trainer? You're perfect."

"Well, gee, darlin'. Thanks."

Heat turned Arthur's cheeks red, and he deliberately spun his chair so that Gilbert couldn't see his face. "Anyway," god, he sounded so flustered, "I wanted to talk to you about…us."

"Us?" Alfred repeated with an obvious amount of concern.

"Nothing's wrong," Arthur was quick to clarify, "it's just that, with how intimate we've been, I was wondering if there's any reason we haven't, you know."

"What, had sex?"

"Well. Yes."

"Uh, no, no reason." He was so clearly confused that Arthur had to close his eyes and take a moment to breathe.

He could do this. It wasn't like he was a virgin, blushing about his inexperience and hoping he'd met "the one" to have sex with for the very first time. Gilbert was right. He'd never used to have shame about this, and he shouldn't now.

"Okay. I was just worried there might be something wrong."

"No, you just always seem pretty worn out after the other stuff."

"Right. Well, you're quite the experience, you know."

Alfred laughed. "As long as you're enjoying it."

"Definitely, that's why I wondered."

"I guess I just don't want to overdo it. I'd love to do it, but you get tired, and I'm not gonna push you to do something you're too tired for."

It was so sweet and thoughtful and absolutely in character for Alfred that Arthur found himself smiling. "You're not going to break me, you know. I've done plenty worse."

"Yeah, but I'm not looking to be any sort of bad experience for you."

"I doubt you could, even if you tried."

"Thanks. So, uh, do you…want to meet up when you're off work?"

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "Sure. You can pick me up on that bike of yours."

"Okay. Five?"

"Five. We'll go to my place."

"Right. You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay. I'll see you then."

"Looking forward to it."

The line went dead, and Arthur put the phone down as he spun around to face Gilbert. "Happy?"

Grinning more than a little smugly, Gilbert folded his arms over his chest and nodded. "Very."