Thank you to ADashOfInsanity, ShaeTheFag, AlteaAuroraRa, Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, XxCapturetheLightxX, BunnyFleur and motolokiev (I know I'm not great at writing plot summaries. Thank you for joining the story :)) for reviewing since my last update!

In this chapter I find it amusing that Marth doesn't believe in coincidence...

And then it was morning, time for Elisse to get up. The day had begun; there was no avoiding it. Yawning, she rolled over and looked at the clock. 3:04am. Well, that beat yesterday.

She got up and followed the baby's cries into the nursery.

"Sshhh little one." Reaching down she picked up the baby Aaron and cradled him in her arms. Marth didn't even know the baby's name yet; it felt like she hadn't spoken to him for ages. Well, her little brother could take care of himself now; she had other things to think of. Still, she could call him later perhaps, see how he was.

She carried the baby downstairs soothing it. Aaron was a terrible baby, cried constantly, always needed something, and not just simple milk, burp, sleep, toilet needs either. Sometimes the only thing that would calm him would be her singing, or if she turned the television on. She didn't know that much about babies, but she was fairly sure that much fussiness wasn't a common thing. Perhaps she should get a babysitter – they might know more than her; then perhaps she could have a break, or more than three hours' sleep in one go.

"Alright Aaron, what do you want this time?" she cooed, kissing his forehead as her ears rebelled against the injustice of such a big noise coming from such a small creature.

Ike woke up, another silent alarm bringing him into the moment. He reached for a new canvas and paintbrush – time to paint what he'd dreamt. A king, there had been a king who he needed to give an offering to but he had nothing to give, everything he offered the king rejected and after so many attempts the king had gotten fed up and summoned a lion-headed lizard to eat him.

Ike painted frantically, the bold colours barely representing the dream itself, more focussed on the emotions that went with it. Inadequacy, the always giving to the king but not being good enough, trying so many different things rather than focussing on one thing, trying to improve one gift… His father. "…you'll never focus on anything… you'll never get anywhere in life…" No – his father wasn't in the dream – focus Ike. But his father returned in his mind, looking sternly back at him. You need to get some sleep. Eh? His father hadn't said that, who had? No, focus, paint dream… Father King Lizard Marth…Marth.

"Marth." Ike woke for real this time, sitting upright in bed. He was going mad, dreaming about waking and painting a dream before actually waking up. He really did need to get some sleep. But no, the day had begun, he needed to paint his dream. For real. What time was it anyway? He looked at the clock. 3:06am. Jolly good.

Roy watched with interest as Marth slowly removed his top and let it drop to the floor. He reached for his own top and pulled it off, and stared at Marth unashamedly as he reached for his jeans. He had such beautiful skin… Roy moved closer, holding Marth gently and inhaling the sweet scent behind his ears. He moved in for a kiss…

…and woke up.

"NO!" He closed his eyes and tried to sink back into the dream but to no avail. He was awake – well and truly awake. He looked at the clock. 3:08am. God, it was too early for this sort of thing, he really ought to try and go back to sleep. But the dream… something had to be done. Rolling out of bed Roy left the bedroom, crossed the landing, and shut himself in the bathroom.

Marth woke late to bright sunshine streaming down over his face. Blinking against the light, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He never woke this late – hadn't his alarm gone off? Just as well it was his day off today. He looked at the clock – it looked like the battery had died at precisely 3:06am. Wonderful.

Stumbling downstairs, he saw to the cat and then grabbed the cereal packet and a spoon and headed out into the garden. He'd had just about enough of it all now. The thought of even trying to talk to Roy or make amends made him feel tired and tense. He didn't believe in extreme coincidence of time and place, and he felt he could rest assured that if he stayed home today he would have a perfectly peaceful time all by himself. Perhaps he could call Elisse for a chat, discuss the new baby, take his mind off –

Knock knock.

Marth tensed, deciding almost instantly that he wasn't going to answer it. He might need to make up with Roy but not now. There was too much to consider before he spoke to Roy again. But wait – wasn't he just thinking that he didn't believe in extreme coincidence of time and place? It was probably the postman or some sales person. Marth sighed. It was too much effort to get up and answer it. He returned to eating his cereal. The new morning sunshine streamed down on his face, warming him. Then he heard a key turning in the lock.

Marth was practically at the door by the time the visitor had stepped through it.

"Ike."

"Marth."

There was a long pause. Marth waited for Ike to come up with an excuse for his arrival, yet for some reason he suspected there wasn't one.

"I, er, think I left a paintbrush here…" Ike muttered, obviously feeling obliged to say something. Two things occurred to Marth simultaneously. The first was a vivid and emotional flashback of Ike walking away from him at the cinema yesterday. The second was that Marth was still wearing his pyjamas.

"Right. Um…I'll be right back." He dashed up to his room to get changed.

A few minutes later he was back downstairs. He found Ike in the kitchen, just finishing making two large coffees. Ike passed one to him.

"How are you?"

"Oh. I'm fine." He wasn't, of course. The memory of the incident at the cinema loomed in the room invisible and unmentioned, hanging in the air like the coffee fumes. Either wisely or unavoidably, Ike targeted it.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I hope I didn't make things worse."

"No, don't apologise. You…Roy…" Marth trailed off.

"You don't have to try and explain if you don't want to…" Ike left a significant pause. "You can always say no."

Somehow the words just hit a spot. But Marth refused to let himself cry. If Ike had given him any longer to let it sink in he surely would have, but Ike quickly continued,

"I was thinking of going cycling. Care to join me?"

"Um…"

"There's this field I want to paint. Bring a book if you like and I can put it in my backpack along with the ham rolls."

Marth cracked a small smile. Painting, always painting. And topless, always topless. This time with baggy green cargo pants, old trainers and presumably a helmet to accompany.

"Ok," he agreed quietly.

"Great." Ike smiled and headed out the front door. A few moments later Marth followed him.

It was a gentle 20-minute cycle down a well-worn dirt track to get to the field Ike was hoping to paint. Despite it being such a convenient distance from Marth's house Marth had never taken that route before and as they both turned the final corner he saw the field for the first time.

"Wow."

The field covered several acres and had been left for some time entirely to nature. Knee-high grass and wildflowers had flourished and butterflies danced amongst them as if in celebration.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Ike asked rhetorically. He sat down on the small cut-grass patch that bordered the entrance to the field and took out a small canvas. Marth sat down beside him, taking out the book Ike had advised him to bring. He was quickly distracted however by the beautiful scene surrounding him and Ike's slowly emerging painting of it. The sunlight really brought out the golden tones in Ike's skin as well, Marth realised. A thought occurred to him and Marth smiled, a pleasant sensation of warmth spreading through his belly and up into his chest.

"Ike?"

"Yes?"

"I never thought I'd ever ask anyone this but… what do you look like in a top?"

Ike laughed. "I wore a shirt the day you first saw me at the café, I believe."

"It was unbuttoned – that doesn't count."

Ike raised one eyebrow jokingly. "Do you find me indecent?"

"No, just quirky."

"Good. Oh, and don't make me laugh whilst I'm painting. I find I use brighter shades when I'm in a more humorous mood but I want to capture this field as realistically as possible so I can understand natural colouring and lighting better."

"Right." Such an odd request. "What about if you just smile?"

"Preferably not. I warn you if you make my lips move the slightest bit upwards whilst I'm painting I'll…" He cast about for a weapon, then seized a grass stalk, lifted Marth's top slightly and tickled his side with it. Marth giggled and rolled away.

"Ike…"

"Shush." Ike waved the grass stalk at him in mock threat. Marth smiled to himself and Ike returned to his painting.

It was a very peaceful two hours before lunch. Marth read a little but napped for the remainder of the time and when lunchtime came Ike shared out his ham rolls and water. They didn't speak much but Marth felt content and relaxed. Once he'd finished eating a touch of energy even crept in.

"Would it spoil your painting if I took a walk through the field?" he asked Ike.

"Probably not. Go ahead."

Marth got up from where he was sitting and stepped into the long grass. It brushed around him as he walked, making a pleasant swishing sound. He should come to this field more often but in truth he didn't think he would. What would be his excuse? He sighed, then took a deep breath of fresh air, turning around slowly back to Ike.

"Freeze right there!"

Marth froze. Ike whipped out a separate sheet of paper and pencil seemingly from nowhere and sketched something for a few seconds. Then he got up and walked over to Marth before poking one of his cheeks.

"There. Dimples."

Marth's smile widened at Ike's peculiar interest. "So?"

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What were you sketching?"

"Something to paint later."

"Is it me?" Marth pushed.

"Yes," Ike admitted.

"Don't I need to pose?"

"I have a photographic memory."

That would explain how he had done that first portrait.

"Then why are you painting outdoors here now? You could have just arrived, taken one look at the field, sketched a few base lines or whatever and gone home," Marth argued.

"Well…" Ike looked away for a moment. "Having cycled all the way out here I figured I might as well stay here to paint… you don't mind, do you? Did you want to go straight home?"

Marth thought about it. The little expedition had been completely unplanned but it had been a lovely few hours and he hadn't regretted coming.

"No, it's been great," he replied honestly.

"Good."

There was a brief gap in which they both just smiled.

"Thank you for painting my house and everything," Marth said.

"No, no…" Ike shuffled a little on the spot. "I'm thinking of going abroad."

Marth was silent.

"I need to sample new cultures and see new sights for inspiration. I've always wanted to travel."

"Oh. Well have fun. Send me a postcard or something."

"You could come along if you like," Ike suggested.

"Oh, no…I couldn't. You have fun." Marth smiled. Ike poked his cheek. Marth swatted his hand away and blushed.

"Leave my dimples alone."

"There weren't any."

"What?"

Ike didn't reply.

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I." But something in Ike's eyes showed that he had a theory. Before Marth could try and make sense of what Ike was saying Ike reached into his pocket and passed Marth a key.

"You shouldn't keep it under the doormat."

Marth took his spare key back without comment. He remembered the first day Ike had used it and Marth had gone home to find him inside painting; uninvited but not unwelcome. The key didn't fit in his hand.

"Send me a postcard or something," he repeated.

It took Ike half an hour to finish the painting. He explained in part how it was done but they went on to talk of films and their favourite types of hat. Marth sat facing him as they talked but he caught a glimpse of the painting as it was carefully slipped into Ike's backpack. The colours made it look as golden as a cornfield.