"Uh-oh." Berwald hadn't had any time to think of anything else to say before he rushed over to where the second housekeeper stood with his hands over his face, completely frozen. It would only be a short time before the man of the house would come bursting into the kitchen and demand to know which one of his precious things they had broken this time.

"I'm so sorry," Tino whimpered as Berwald crouched on the floor to sweep up the broken pieces of the tea pot – which frankly was rarely used for pouring tea, as much as it was for pouring coffee. "I can't believe how many things I've broken this week." He sounded absolutely devastated. "I'm going to get the boot, I know I am."

Just as Berwald had predicted, the house owner opened the kitchen door, almost forcefully. Einar Strand was locally known as a calm and reserved gentleman, but that was just his public figure. However, as soon as he was in his own home, and away from any sort of respectable people, he would show his more grumpy side, taking it out on the maids and the two housekeepers.

"What," he demanded, glaring first at Berwald, then at Tino, "did you break this time?" His voice sounded calm, but Berwald knew he could explode at any point if he did not receive the answers he wanted.

Berwald looked over his shoulder at him from where he was crouching, and stood up slowly with the shattered tea pot in a small dust tray, gradually facing Mr. Strand. It did not matter that Berwald was about a head taller than him; it was Einar who was the boss and he could easily make sure that neither Berwald nor Tino would ever get to work as housekeepers ever again if they made him look bad.

"It's your tea pot, sir," Berwald said, his voice as steady and respectable as he could muster. "I do apologise profoundly. I did not mean to drop it."

Mr. Strand eyed him up and down, his arms crossed. His facial expression was as blank as a face could be, but Berwald knew that behind that expressionless face, there were thoughts running through his head at a rapid pace. Mr. Strand did not spend a lot of time considering what he would do next. He didn't need to.

"You do know," he sighed, exasperated, "that this comes out of your salary, right?"

"Yes, sir." Berwald bowed his head respectfully. "Again, I do apologise."

Mr. Strand gave them a last look, not looking as stern this time. "And do finish cooking," he added. "I'm expecting company very soon, and I imagine he's hungry." He turned to Berwald. "And make sure Tino doesn't try to prepare any food. He's fine when he cleans, but the so-called 'food' he makes wouldn't even be good enough for the alley cats."

"Yes, sir," Berwald said again, and a few seconds later Einar Strand had disappeared out from the kitchen.

He turned to walk toward the dustbin to rid himself of the shattered tea pot, but stopped as he felt Tino's hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, only to find Tino's upset expression gazing up at him.

"Why did you take the blame, Ber?"

"He'd've fired you," he replied simply.

Tino let go of Berwald's shoulder. His violet eyes flickered for a moment before he stared fixedly at the kitchen table. His left hand was rubbing his right one. "I'm not really that bad a housekeeper, am I?" he asked quietly.

Berwald brushed the tea pot remains into the dust bin before replying. "No." He placed the dust pan and the small broom back where it belonged. "Just a li'l clumsy. 'nd not a good cook."

Tino didn't look comforted in the very least. Darn it, Berwald, you haven't helped at all, he thought to himself.

"But you're an exc'llent maid," he added, the faintest glint of humour in his eyes.

This time Tino straightened his back and his face turned red. "I'm not a maid!"

"I mean you're good at cleanin'," Berwald clarified, but it was obvious he had meant to tease. Not even Einar could deny the fact that Tino was downright impeccable when it came to cleaning and tidying, and Einar was highly critical of anything imperfect. Even Berwald, who considered himself a very tidy person, had been amazed by Tino's attention to detail.

Tino cocked his head to the side, but couldn't help smiling a little. "I suppose you're right," he sighed. "Even if I'm clumsy."

"Clumsy maids're very attract've."

Tino sputtered. "Berwald!" The weak smile on Berwald's face made him chuckle, if ever so nervously. "You know we can't talk like this in the middle of the day."

As if out of spite, Berwald walked over to Tino, cupped his face in his hands and kissed him straight on the lips. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Berwald let go of his lover's face and smiled at him briefly. Tino smiled blissfully back at him.

"What would the neighbours think?" Tino chuckled in a hushed voice.

"Screw the neighbours."

Tino chuckled a bit more, then his face turned serious. "Do you think Mr. Strand would kick us out if he found out?"

Berwald shrugged, and began preparing the dinner for Einar and his awaited guest. Garlic, he decided, would be the key ingredient to a perfect meal. "Don't know," he admitted sullenly. "I've heard rumours 'bout 'im that would make me think oth'rwise," he added. "But..." His voice faded and he seemed to be too preoccupied with the garlic and the knife to continue the thought out loud.

Tino, busy washing the kitchen counter, helped him out with the rest of the sentence. "But it's only a rumour, right?" Berwald nodded. "And we shouldn't depend on rumours." Berwald nodded again. Tino sighed. "It would be bliss not having to hide it," he murmured. Again, Berwald nodded in agreement.