Roderich has a routine in the mornings. He wakes and lays there on his bed in peaceful bliss for a few minuets, wrapped in his goose-down comforter. Then, begrudgingly, swings his legs over the edge and gets up. Not bothering with his real clothes quite yet he makes a quick stop to the restroom before slowly gliding down the hallway and then the stairs. Once on the main level he makes his way to the kitchen. On a usual day he would begin making his tea and then search for whatever pastry he had prepared the day before for himself. But, on this particular day, the raspberry tart he had masterfully created was missing. He looked in the fridge, the cupboards, everywhere.'Did I eat it last night?' He asked himself. 'If I did then I don't remember it.' A bit miffed he finished making his tea and continued on with his routine, without his food.
*CRASH!*
As Roderich entered the music room of his home his tea cup found itself plummeting to the dark wood floor, shattering upon impact. Not once, but now twice his fluid morning routine had been broken, just like the tea cup. Scattered across the expanses of the room was sheet after sheet of music that had been painstakingly composed either by the Austrian himself or others. Among the many pieces of paper were bottles of various size and color that had at one time, he assumed, held liquor or beer. And, in the middle of all the debris, slumped over his precious, most prized possession, was a silver-haired man. He had a small bit of drool and remnants of raspberry tart smeared across his pale face
At the sound of a crash Gilbert had stirred a bit and lifted his head off of the large, polished instrument. He stretched, rubbed the sleep out of his ruby-red eyes and then finally turned to face in the direction of the door. His tired gaze was instantly met with the cold, violet glare of a bed-headed aristocrat. Around his feet were the remains of a designer porcelain tea cup. He blinked a few times. "Morning specs." Roderich carefully maneuvered around the shards of glass, bottles and sheets of paper until he was near his ebony piano.
"Gilbert..."
"Yes?"
"...I'm not evengoing to ask, just..." He paused to rake his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Just.. get out."
"What?" The albino asked as if actually surprised. "Why?"
The Austrian's eye visibly twitched a bit, clearly irritated. "Why? Why do you think?!" The self-proclaimed Prussian stood, stretched and scratched his own messy hair as if actually thinking.
"Well I might have had a few drinks..." He watched Roderich for a moment and then took a step over to him and slung one of his arms around the others shoulder, much to the pianist's dismay. "But that's not so bad is it Roddy?" The violet eyed man's glare only deepened as he tried to wiggle free of Gilbert's hold.
"You don't think that's so bad? That you break into my house, devastate one of my favorite and most important rooms, drool all over my piano and to top it all off," He was nearly yelling with frustration. "and to top it all off you eat my breakfast!" Gilbert stared at the man he still had an arm around for a few moments before a sly smirk broke over his facial features in realization.
"Hey, what are you staring at you moron?" He attempted to free himself again, thrashing a bit.
"Roddy, do you still want some?" Gilbert asked as if it were totally casual to hold someone in your arms against their will.
"What?" Roderich stopped thrashing a moment to look at the red-eyed man in confusion. "Some of what?"
That earned a chuckle from the one doing the holding. Quickly he had the Austrian turned so he was facing himself "Some of that raspberry thing." Roderich continued to look confused and now irritated more.
"You ate all of that you damn idio-mphg!" And before he could finish his insult the pianist found foreign lips being smothered over his own. He gasped in shock, allowing the others skilled tongue slip into his moth. Gilbert explored it gladly. Without even realizing it he was humming in delight and the Prussian snickered a bit. Their mouths and tongues moved against each others and Gilbert tightened his grip on his waist. Eventually the need for air forced them apart and he nipped the Austrian's bottom lip playfully as he pulled away. He held the other close in his arms and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "So?" He nibbled his earlobe a little. "What'd you think?"
This time it was the silver-haired man taken by surprise as he was pushed to the ground with a pajama clad aristocrat sitting on top of him.
"Gil...you're an ass." He leaned down and captured his lips in another, chaste kiss. "But, at least you taste sweet."
So much for morning routines.