If there was one thing that Tamaki Suoh adored, it was Kyoya Ootori without his morning coffee.

He loved coffee-deprived Kyoya not because he was nice, but because he was brutally, brutally honest. Not in his words, but his actions. When Kyoya wasn't caffeine high his body moved without permission from Kyoya's mind, doing whatever it wished until someone thrust coffee into his pale hands.

On this chilly December morning, Kyoya was a perfect example of this phenomenon.

"Tamaki…" Kyoya's hand smashed on the plastic that was his cell phone. It had been ringing for ten minutes straight, and it was ten in the morning. Tamaki should have known better than to call. Kyoya fumbled with the phone and flipped it open with much difficulty.

"WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?" Kyoya growled into the phone.

"GO INTO THE KITCHEN MOM! IN THE KITCHEN!" Tamaki screamed at the other end of the line.

Kyoya chucked the phone against the wall and reburied himself under the mound of pillows and blankets adorning his simple bed. He heard footsteps outside of his room but paid no heed until the door opened. He looked up slightly to see Tamaki frowning in the doorway. He stared at the lump of fabric and feathers that contained Kyoya for a moment before speaking.

"Are you just going to waste your morning there?" the king asked, walking swiftly to the side of the bed and staring into Kyoya's face. He was much more attractive without the glasses, he decided.

Kyoya, not having had his caffeine yet, was in autopilot. He could hear the words coming from his mouth, and could feel his body moving, was not in control of any of it at any time. So when he pulled Tamaki down onto the bed and told him to strip, Tamaki couldn't hold him responsible.

"WHAT!?" Tamaki cried unnaturally loudly. Kyoya grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him over his own face. He looked Tamaki right in the eyes, and proceeded to take off his tie.

"Lay with me. It'll be too hot under here if you wear all of your clothes." He began to unbutton his shirt, Tamaki working at the top while Kyoya fumbled with the bottom. By the time Tamaki had rid himself of the shirt Kyoya had given up and snuggled back under the covers. Tamaki removed his pants, leaving his boxers and socks. He crawled under the covers, and laid down next to Kyoya.

Without hesitation Kyoya wrapped his arms firmly around the blonde and began to snooze into his chest. Tamaki cuddled into the slumbering mans grip, playing the part of dutiful uke.

Because that's who he was, Kyoya's uke. He played the part for no one else, and though Kyoya wouldn't remember even inviting Tamaki in when he awoke, Tamaki was contented for the moment. There was no where else he'd have rather been, save in those wiry arms.