A/N: Y'know, I always wondered what Alice did to Alfred that one day she had confined him to the couch in EMM… Let's find out, shall we?

Alfred F. Jones was ecstatic, to say the least. He finally convinced his love to spend the night with him, since neither had work or appointments the next day. He made sure the night was amazing, food and wine and dancing and making love, and now he was going to make sure this morning was amazing. In the tiniest corner of his mind, however, he clearly remembered the conversation he had with Alice's many brothers when he first declared his intentions…

"Aye, ye can take the bloody lass, for all I care. For some reason, ye bring a smile to 'er face that no other man 'as. As long as ye keep that 'ellion 'appy, ye can bend 'er over and – "

"Th-that's enough, sir, th-thank you…" His face turned red and his blood ran hotat the older man's words. Well, at least he knew that the Scottish man before him wouldn't be mad about them already being intimate.

"Shy one, aye? Fine then, I'll be quiet. 'owever, I will give ye three things to know about courting our Wonderland." Alfred felt himself lean closer, listening in bewilderment. With his tone, the American wondered what could be so bad about being with his Alice?

"That lass is the worst cook ye will ever meet, but I think ye know that. She is a 'orrible drunk, even for a woman. Lastly, she is not a morning person. At all." At that, the burly man busted out laughing. "Ye think ye seen her temper, lad? That ain't nothing to the 'ell fire she spews forth from the deepest bowels of 'ell when she's just a'waking!"

The blond man shuddered, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his gut…

Okay, so maybe her older brother might have gotten to him a little bit. So what? None of that mattered to him! Sure, her constant attempts at cooking were astronomically horrific, and yea she was a horrible drunk. Not to mention mixing those two together was a horror movie and survival show wrapped into one dainty British package… But again, so what? He loved her! Loved her enough to look past her (many) vices and flaws, so he can totally look past her not being a morning person.

A distant shuffling snapped him from his self-prepping. Alfred glanced at the clock – it was only a little past 6 in the morning. He vaguely thought how strange it was for a morning hater to rise early. Putting his most charming smile on, he spun around to face his beloved lady.

That was probably his first mistake of many.

Alice looked at him, her eyes red and crusty with sleep. Her usually kept hair was wild and unruly, and her face was scrunched up in disgust and annoyance. When she spoke, her voice was thick and rough, radiating with unbridled anger. "Wot you smiling about, you bloody American wank?"

"I – uh – y'know, um… Good morning, darling?"

"…" Alfred felt his throat tighten as she just glared at him silently. The last time he felt this frightened was when they first met, when she accidentally dumped a beer on him and then had the nerve to blame him. "…Good morning? Good morning?! GOOD FUCKING MORNING!? REALLY ALFRED, REALLY?" Her voice kept climbing in volume so suddenly that Alfred fought the urge to curl up in the corner like a beaten dog.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I HATE MORNINGS!? LET ME ANSWER THAT BECAUSE I DON'T THINK YOUR BURGER FUELD MIND CAN HANDLE THE STRESS OF THINKING. I DESPISE MORNINGS, NOW FUCK OFF!"

"B-But Aliiiiiice - !" He went to go touch her, grab her shoulder or hug her… or something, anything. Usually his touch calmed her down, so why would now be any different?

That was definitely mistake number two this morning.

"DON'T TOUCH ME YOU BLITHERING GIT!" With a strength that he had no idea she possessed, she grabbed his arm and yanked it behind his back, sending him off his feet. Taking full advantage of it, she whipped her knee between his legs and slammed it up, making the poor American singing soprano as he screamed. Still showing no mercy as he fell to the floor, she kicked him over then slammed her foot on his chest, glaring at him as if she were the Devil's gal herself.

That was the last thing he saw before blacking out.

Xxx 3 hours later xxX

"Oh god, Al, I am so sorry. I-I-I really shouldn't have done that, you were only trying to be a good boyfriend…" The Brit was on her knees next to the occupied couch, looking at Alfred with teary and guilty eyes. He guessed sometime after he passed out, she regained her senses and drug him over to the couch.

He couldn't help but grin – his British lady did always tell him he learned things the hard way. "Aw, doll, it's alright! Don't look so sad! I mean, it ain't everyday a man gets the most beautiful girl to wait on him hand and foot!"

"Alfred… Ain't is not a word."

"Oh man, I think I feel another wave of pain coming on…"

"Oh, god, hold on Alfie! I-I-I'll find another cold pack!"

He couldn't help but watch her behind as she scrambled to find him another (unnecessary) cold pack, trying his hardest to not laugh. Okay, so maybe he was milking it, but come on! His girlfriend did go all badass ninja on him.

He wasn't a man to admit defeat, however. He'll figure out some way to get his girl to enjoy mornings, even if it takes him forever.