"Gilbert." Roderich groaned, just barely louder than the alarm.

"Yeah, yeah." Gilbert sighed, whacking the blaring clock with a fist. "One more snooze."

"It's five-thirty, don't you need to get to work?" The man turned over and pulled a pillow over his face. "God, it's early."

Gilbert laughed and wrapped an arm around him, pulling his chest to his back and kissing his neck. "It's not that early. Four-thirty is early, mein liebling," he said as he tried to push the pillow out of the way.

"Eight is early," he argued, taking the pillow to bash it against Gilbert's laughing face. "I need sleep so I can work today, we have a wedding order in."

Gil groaned. "Scheisse, are these the people will all the damn blue roses?" He ran a hand through his silver hair, groaning. "I guess you'll be needing my help when I get back then."

"Ja, ja." Roderich said, pulling up the covers. "I cut the ribbon last night though, so we won't be super behind with everything else…"

Gilbert's mouth twitched slightly into a smile. "Wunderbar." He planted a kiss onto Roderich's cheek before he rolled off the mattress and stretched his arms upwards. "Well, you get some beauty sleep then, Captain Von Trapp. Gotta look pretty for those roses."

Roderich rolled his eyes and swiveled onto his back. "I wish I could get more writing done today, too."

Gilbert did a sort of dance as he struggled to pull on his pants. "You've been working on that for so long, Roddy, maybe you should move on!" He placed a hand on the footboard of the bed to catch his balance. "You've got better things to do."

Roderich raised a bare arm to his eyes, covering them from the light that hadn't yet been turned on. "No, no, I've got to do this, Gilbert. You don't understand-"

"Don't start, Roddy, I do understand." He glanced over at his sleeping boyfriend with a quiet laugh. "Who's this one for?"

Roderich paused before raising his arm just slightly, revealing his squinting eyes. "Was?"

"I mean who commissioned you for it?" He said, flipping on the light switch.

Roderich audibly groaned, hiding his face with the pillow. "Nobody, I'm just writing it."

He paused, turning to look at him in disbelief. "You mean you've spent the shop's work hours writing a piece for fun?"

Roderich sighed. "It's not for fun, it's in my head and I've got to-"

Gilbert interrupted him, walking over and throwing the covers off of him. "So the other day when you asked me to come home from work early so I could make all those bouquets because you had to work on a piece. Nobody was paying for that?"

Roderich hastily pulled the covers back over his eyes. "It's a musician's duty to-"

"I don't give a shit about your musician's duty, Edelstein, I give plenty of shits about our budget, which I'm sure your cheap ass has noticed is running low." He marched over to the closet and pulled the nearest button-down off the hanger, fumbling with the sleeves to get it on.

"Excuse you, I'm not the one who buys all the goddamn craft beers-"

"Maybe you haven't noticed, liebe," he bit back with sarcasm. "But I'm the one who makes the money in this house. I get up and work six to six every day so we can have food on the table-"

"Excuse you again," Roderich said, propping himself up on his elbows. "I make plenty of money, even outside the shop. I'm one of the most requested composers in Europe, Herr Secretary."

Gilbert fixed his collar in the mirror hastily, frustratedly re-tying his tie for the third time. He ran a hand through his hair, not bothering to find his comb. "Well, if that's the case, the local-business-Philharmonics must be reminiscing and playing the old favorites, because the last time you were commissioned was what, six months ago?" He grabbed his shoes and slid them on, not stopping to re-tie them.

Roderich looked back to the opposite wall, avoiding eye contact. "It's been slow, yes, but-"

"Whatever. I don't have time for this. I'll be home with dinner, since you can't be bothered to cook with all your "musician's duty" you have on your plate." Gilbert sighed and slammed the bedroom door behind him, his footsteps creaking all the way to the front door.

Roderich's eyes drifted from the curtains to the comforter, and then to the door. He rubbed his eyes, trying not to feel the tears dripping onto his finger. "Have a nice day at work," he mumbled. He pulled the sheets over his head and shut his eyes tight, trying not to let the guilt in his chest rise into his throat as he drifted back to sleep.