SHIPPING: PERSEVERESHIPPING (DUKE X TEA)

TITLE: WE MAKE NO SENSE, BUT WE LIKE IT THAT WAY.

THEME/MUSIC: CIRCULAR LOGIC/ FLATHEAD- THE FRATELLIS

TAGLINE: MORE ALCOHOL WILL MAKE IT BETTER, HE THINKS.

WORDS: 728


It's four in the morning. His head hurts likes hell and his whole body feels like a sack of lead. Especially his head. Mostly his head.

More alcohol will make it better, he thinks.

He doesn't want to fully wake up and get ready to go to work in a few hours. He'd like a caramel macchiato and some biscotti instead, please. And a permanent "DO NOT DISTURB!" sign on his front door. Then again that wouldn't pay the bills or the rent of his posh little condo. And his landlord would never let that slide, devilish charms or not. He'd very much like to go back to sleep but that isn't entirely possible; there are toenails pressed painfully into his back.

"Move," he mumbles into his mussed bedding, sure that someone has stuffed a cotton ball into his mouth.

"You're the one lying on the wrong side of the bed," the owner of the toenails sleepily replies.

"'S my bed," he says, slurring slightly. "And why aren't you gone yet?"

She pushes herself up slightly as though to leave, but just announces the time spelled out in neon green from his bedside. Satisfied at his nonexistent response, she collapses back into the sheets, tangling them further around her legs as she curls into a ball.

"By the way, your bed smells," she grimaces.

"That's 'cause you're getting all your perfume on it," comes his muffled voice. "I told you that scent line was no good. Now the whole place smells like cheap magazine samples."

"Then make yourself useful and clean up this mess."

"This mess" meaning of course the various empty bottles strewn on his floor and the takeout boxes tipped over on his coffee table and carpet. But that's just his room. He doesn't even want to think about the real earthquake beyond his safely closed bedroom door.

"…I'm not your maid," is his final answer.

She snorts like this is all very funny and well played. It is a loud sound and ensues a throbbing sensation in his temples similar to a very small migraine.

"It's your place," she points out.

"But it's your cheap perfume. Now lemme sleep."

"Duke-"

Annoyed that she is still talking, he shoves at her half-heartedly with his leg, but this is enough to send her flailing onto the ground with an indignant squeal, taking his only set of clean sheets with her. In more normal circumstances he wouldn't have even attempted such a feat. If he was completely sober, he would've taken immediate evasive action under his bed. But he isn't completely sober, so he fumbles for a pillow and buries his head under it. A minute later he lets out an undignified yelp as icy water is dumped from his favorite tea mug onto his bare torso. A chase around the room after his assailant and a weary collapse back onto the bed later, she lays next to him and they breathe in the stuffiness of his room.

"I've got to stop doing this," he says, gesturing vaguely.

"It's messing up your sleeping schedule," she agrees.

"Makes no sense."

"Like your need to throw random parties and get everyone drunk."

"Hey," he frowns. "If I don't throw parties that means you all don't get free alcohol and bedding for when you're too lazy to go home and bother someone else. Not to mention very effective alarm clocks."

"That isn't an advantage," she says pointedly. "And I'm not the one who can't hold my liquor. You always vomit in the sink. It's unhealthy."

"You're perfecting your household skills when you clean it up."

"And I know you like your butt forcefully dragged to work by one of us. It was Mai last time, right?"

"Circular logic," he grins.

"What?"

"Exactly."

"Don't go all babbly on me Mr. I-majored-in-Philosophy," she huffs, capitalizing the "P" for no good reason. "Now either go back to sleep or make us breakfast."

"I'm wasted. Why aren't you?"

She's quiet and thinks about it like it's significant, what she's about to say, and she finally mutters, "Because I have to keep an eye on you." Then she quickly adds, tugging on his ponytail, "And nobody else takes pity on you for this stuff. You should try cleaning house one day."

He gets what she really means and basks in his male pride.

"Duly noted."


yeah, I don't really know. when pairings get crazy, I get crazy. ...but I liked this. pretty AU-ish again, but fun to read I hope.

these really need to start getting shorter...