Written based on the prompt 'bedside table'.
DISCLAIMER: Nobody belongs to me
A lot can be said about a person from what they keep on their bedside table. William, for one, preferred to keep a lamp, a book, and a glass of water on his. The water glass sat on a coaster, of course. He liked it clean and tidy, and kept it that way. At least, that was until Ronald moved in.
It started with another glass on the table, this one filled with a questionable beverage. It smelled of bread with a bitter tang, and made William cough when he dared take a sip. It reminded him of the way his lover's kisses tasted before bed, but it seemed so much sweeter coming from the blonde's mouth. There was a coaster below the glass, so it didn't bother William.
However, another item soon found its way onto his table. To William's displeasure, it seemed to have claimed a permanent spot.
"Mr. Knox," William called, switching to his last name as he always did when he was preparing for a lecture. Ronald rolled away from William on his side of the bed, nuzzling into his pillow and responding with a little 'hm?'.
"The last time we had sex was on Friday night. That was two days ago." The blonde grumbled and pressed his face into the pillow in reply.
"Are you still complaining about me not doing it with you yesterday? I was tired, probably because you assigned me overtime again. You would think sleeping with your boss would let you off when you're just a few minutes late, but-"
"If the last time we did it was two days ago, then why is this still here?" William gestured at the unwanted new tenant on the table. It sat lazily, leaving ugly little rings on the wood, no doubt. Ronald rolled over, staring it down with narrowed eyes, trying to focus without his glasses.
"Massage oil?" He questioned, scooting over to get a better look. "I think you know what we use this for." William grumbled in response.
"If we're not using it, why is it still here?"
"Because," Ronald sighed, propping his chin on his hand, "It takes too long for you to get it." William raised an eyebrow.
"You don't seem to complain once I do get it." William huffed, pressing his glasses up.
"But you know…" Ronald glanced up at him, stretching. "I might be more 'in the mood' if I know we're ready all the time…"
William didn't complain about the massage oil after that.
However, that peace didn't last long either.
"Ronald, what are you putting on my table now?"
Ronald froze, the item in question only a centimeter away from being placed safely on said table. He turned his head slowly to face the door, so slowly that William was sure he could hear his neck creaking. His stared with wide eyes, like a child before a carriage.
"Oh, just, y'know…" He set it down on the table and let a grin of feigned innocence spread across his face. "How about we go out for some drinks down at the pub?" William strolled over, snatching it from the table and holding it up for examination.
"What exactly would you need a bottle of lotion for?"
Ronald giggled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Grell said that my hands would be softer if I used some. And that you prefer soft hands." William raised an eyebrow, staring his subordinate down.
"Since when did you listen to anything Sutcliffe said?"
"Well, it's only for the occasional bit of advice… I hadn't really thought of him as a mentor or something, more like a how-to book…"
"A how-to book? You know that when it comes to reports and reaping procedures, I-"
"That's not exactly the sort of advice I was looking for, boss, it's more of which… something that I don't imagine you'd know that much about, all things considered."
"And what exactly would that subject be?" William growled slightly, aggravated that Sutcliffe could be better than him at something again, especially in his own lover's opinion. He pressed his glasses up his nose, eyes narrowed.
"Well, you were pretty inexperienced and all. Not to say that you were bad! You, well, just don't have the same reputation. After all, people don't call him 'Slutcliffe' for no reason."
William's eye only twitched in response. A vein throbbed on his forehead and he sighed, rubbing his temples. "While I may agree on your deduction of my experience in comparison to that thing, please refrain from asking for sex advice from him any longer." He strode towards the door, but turned to make one last comment:
"And rather than you using your hands, I prefer your mouth. Or, of course, what we did in bed yesterday."
After the massage oil and the lotion came the improper books, the rope (that suggestion, obviously from Slutcliffe, didn't go over too well with Will), the plate from an attempt to have breakfast in bed, the hairbrush, the pen and paper, the clipboard, the extra pair of gloves, the needle and thread and small pile of buttons, and the old watch batteries.
The last straw must've been the framed picture of the two of them, because after that had appeared atop the pile of junk on his table, William finally gave in…
And bought Ronald a table for his own side of the bed.