The sound of pans rattling down the stairs was an ominous sound considering who it was who was attempting to make breakfast. Despite the knowledge that whatever smelt good now was going to be burnt in a few moments Alfred entertained the idea that he might eat the food just so the other man wouldn't feel the anxiety of having to talk to him. Arthur was always like this...the morning after. Jumpy, shy, and over all just rattled and flustered. It took all of the Americans self control not to make some comment about how the Brit limped a little when he walked or how their were small bruises visible beneath his collar at the back of his neck. As usual Arthur was already dressed wrapped back up in his image and denial while Alfred poured himself some coffee shirtless and in too big pajama bottoms. He had yet to put his glasses on for the day as he sat at the table and settled with watching the Brit nervously pace back and forth from the stove top to the sink, doing dishes from the meal they had left uneaten the night before.
"Mornin."
"...good morning."
It was awkward exchanges like these that made Alfred wish it was dark again. In the dark Arthur was less...modest. The coffee left a bitter taste in his mouth as Alfred stood bringing up his hands to rest on Arthur's smaller hips stopping his almost frantic movements.
"It's too early. Let's go back to bed."
Arthur tensed beneath his touch, "It's almost noon you lazy git."
"You're doin it wrong Iggy." he remarked over his shoulder as he watched the other man attempt to fold an omelet, "I'm tired. I didn't get much sleep last night...and by the sounds coming out of your mouth last night I don't think you were anywhere close to being asleep either. Come with me."
He nuzzled surprisingly gently against Arthur's neck eagerly hoping that the relaxing of his hips beneath his touch was a sign he would give in.
"It will burn."
"I assumed as much."
Arthur turned to glare over his shoulder at him before Alfred tugged him out of the kitchen, flicking off the stove as he pulled the reluctant mans hand leading him back up the stairs and to the bedroom. Their clothes from the night before were still strewn about the room, the sheets unchanged. Arthur made a face at him as he tried to undress the Brit himself, tugging Alfred's hands away before unbuttoning his own shirt and stripping down to his the undershirt beneath it and his boxers.
"Lay down."
His face heated the Brit lay back on the crumpled sheets and Alfred crawled down to lay next to him slipping an arm beneath him and bringing him close as the other arm wrapped around his waist, sighing, sleepy and content.
"That's better..."
"Don't breathe on me. You smell like coffee."
"Shut up, Iggy."