It was not the sunlight that made Oliver open his eyes, but a snore rumbling against the skin where his shoulder and neck met. He sharply inhaled, and sighed against consciousness as a body nearly draped over his side. Allen must have tossed over sometime in the night, and pinned Oliver to the edge of the bed. He stared at the dark floor boards, knowing with a few nudges, he could fall face first onto its awaiting stretch. He gripped the nightstand, and tried sliding away from the arm and leg drooping over him. At his slight movements, a light laugh rose from Allen's throat as he dozed.

Oliver's ears pinked as he wiggled away some more. However, the arm hooked over his side pulled him right back to his initial position, tightening against his chest. Oliver scrunched his face, turning his head to glare in Allen's direction, who remained blissfully sleeping. He tried yet again, but suddenly the bed was alive with a sleepy rasp, "Come on, baby. Why you gotta move 'round like that?"

"I have things to do," Oliver reminded his bedmate, but only received a timid snore in reply. He wedged his hand beneath his pillow, which was also breeched by Allen's hand, and decided to linger for a few moments. It was probably too early anyway, based on the intense red filtering into the room between the window shade's cracks. Deciding to make himself comfortable in the supposed small wait, the baker snuggled back against his bedmate's chest. The generated heat was to blame when he opened his eyes with startled inhale.

The analogue clock on the side stand claimed it was almost two hours later than the time Oliver usually rose. He gasped, ripping from his imprisonment, and threw back the covers. "Oh no, what if they are here already?" He hissed to himself, making a dangerous dash to his dresser.

Allen snapped his head up from the invading blanket. "Whas dat?"

Oliver only glanced in his direction, not caring for once to be shy about shedding his clothes in front of him. He remembered that Allen most likely saw blurred colors, anyway, unless he reached over and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand. Instead, his partner flopped back against the mattress, tossed an arm over his eyes, and smacked his mouth.

The baker hurried out of the bedroom, pulling his bowtie into place. He skittered to a halt in the middle of the hall when he realized he forgot his shoes. "Oh, gosh darn it," he lamely spat, and backtracked into the bedroom. Allen managed a grunt in greeting, but did not make an effort to move from the cozy bed when Oliver bent down to kiss his cheek before leaving the room with shoes in tow.

When he finally made it downstairs, Oliver threw his head in all directions, seeing that nobody waited outside the locked door. He let out a shaky exhale, calming himself with the prospect of baking a few breakfast treats. Once they were out on display in their proper cases, he ducked below the front counter where he usually kept his top secret hit list folders in a locked drawer. He managed to combine the information on the new target between Allen's return and the business with Luciano and Feliciano.

Oliver had just sealed the envelope when the trio of hunters entered the bakery. Luciano, not Feliciano, made the switch obvious with his much more smooth, less bouncy gait as they came forth to the counter. He showed a hint of a smile as Kuro and Lutz hung back with their eyes on the back of his head.

"Luciano," the baker greeted with a much more open grin. "How are you? Believe it or not, it is nice to see you here."

"Ve, thank you, Oliver. I have done something stupid, but everything turned out to be better than expected."

Oliver slid the folder over the light counter. "How so?"

"I do not want to ruin all the surprises," Luciano said, pulling the packet closer, "but I will tell you that is not the last of Feliciano you will see."

"Oh? I am glad you two reconciled." It somehow led to Oliver and Arthur to work on their own friendship once more. Oliver was more grateful to Luciano than he would ever know.

"Me too," the Italian claimed, turning away. He nodded to his housemates, and they absentmindedly copied the gesture. "We should head out now." The door closed with a loud squeak. The baker watched their departure through the glass windows with a fond smile.

"Ollie?" Allen's voice came from the top of the stairs. "Were there people just here?"

Oliver straightened from leaning on the counter. "Yes, dear. They are gone now." Loud feet clunked down the steps, revealing his own housemate, thankfully dressed, even in shaggy clothes. He eyed the other's jeans, ripped to expose the knees. "As I said, my days start early."

"Anyone we know?"

"Just people picking up an order."

Allen did not question it, bobbing his head up and down. He propped himself on the door frame, and scratched at his still bruised cheek. "I thought you had errands."

Curses, he remembered. Oliver trailed his eyes to the front windows. "I could do those later, after the morning goers come around. Some stop for breakfast." He lowered a hand to tap on the glass display below the counter, showing off an array of cookies, muffins, and other pastries to any newcomers.

"How later, were you thinkin'?"

"So curious," Oliver lightly jived. "An hour or two from now. Why do you ask?"

"Oh," Allen glanced away, shrugging lazily. "Nothin' I guess."

"You are up to something."

"I'm not. I'm just gon' chill out today."

"Hm," Oliver narrowed his eyes in mock thought. "Well, that's a shame. This evening, I have nothing going on. I wonder what I will do then..."

"Me?" Allen blurted. He blinked rapidly several times before sputtering, "Like, I mean...me as in a date. Do me a date. Let's go on a date or somethin', yeah."

Oliver sniggled from a line up of inappropriate possibilities. "You and what money?"

"Shit, babe, I hardly even got clothes on my back. That's why I asked you if y'could take me out." The other man stepped from the door frame, closer to the baker to grab his hands. "You could pay fer stuff, an' I'll make sure to hold your hands."

"My hands do get awfully cold and heavy at times," Oliver mused. A pedestrian neared the bakery, and gazed at the open sign. "It will be my pick, though," he put in before the door opened, trying not to smile stupidly at how the delicious scent stunned the potential customer.

Allen slipped away, back into the foyer with, "Heh, of course, Ollie." He fled upstairs as a few others meandered into the bakery for a warm breakfast they did not have to make themselves. By the time the crowd outside thinned, his housemate was still upstairs doing who knows what, so in the meanwhile, Oliver snuck to the basement.

"You will need to tell him about this sometime," Luciano told him, eagerly taking his pay for his bodily efforts. "It's better than him wandering down here at the wrong time."

"Secrets," Nikolai giggled as he poked at the corpse.

Oliver ignored him, admitting, "I know, but Allen just came back less than a week ago. I do not want to dump everything on him right away."

"Sometime soon," Luciano insisted. "If he runs away, just give us a call, and we'll go hunt him down, and drag him back here."

"What a lovely offer. Do not be surprised if I take you up on that."

A spooky laugh emitted from the direction of the surgeon's table. Kuro asked, "Are we leaving now, Luciano-san?" Even Lutz appeared to be frazzled.

Luciano exchanged a startled look with the baker. "Si, since we have our money and everything."

"Oh, before you go," Oliver put in, "I am having a party in a few days."

Lutz raised his eyebrows. "Another one?"

"To celebrate everyone's freedom, now that you are all out of jail. Matt came up with the idea."

"Matt? Hm, sounds promising."

A loud snap of bone filled the room for a disgusting second. Nikolai glanced up to meet all their glares. "It was in my way."

Oliver swished a hand in dismissal, turning for the steps. "I will call you to give the details."

"Good idea," Luciano hurriedly gestured for his small team to flee. Oliver followed the same method of flight, but back up to the bakery's kitchen. He quietly propped himself against the front counter, pretending he never left. After a few uneventful moments, something clattered upstairs. He jumped, and shot a glare toward the foyer.

"Allen?"

"It's just a bowl," Allen shot down the stairs.

"What do you need a bowl for?"

"Makin' popcorn!"

Oliver rolled his eyes, but sprung a goofy smile. Sooner than later, he felt compelled to go upstairs, and spy what his company was getting into. Allen shoved his entire hand into the bowl, and lifted a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. The baker eyed the stray kernels dropping on the floor. He crossed his arms as the other man loudly munched on his snack. "Are you going to clean that up?"

Allen jumped, gripping the bowl protectively. "Holy fuck!" He managed through a full mouth. "I thought you were downstairs!" He glanced to the tiled floor, and plucked the popcorn from the ground, only to eat those, too.

"Eugh! Those have been on the floor!"

"So? You clean it, right?" Allen swished his free hand to the living room. "D'you wanna watch the weather channel or somethin'?"

"I have to leave soon," Oliver said.

His partner flopped onto the couch with a lazy growl. "Are we gon' go out later?"

"Yes, when I am done with everything."

"Why don't I go wit' you, so you don't gotta come back an' go out again? Ain't gas expensive?"

A lot of things were expensive in Allen's mind. Oliver thought of him seeing the cooler and having the same questions he once did for Anabella. "I-I do not mind the drive."

"Nah, really, babe. Just tell me when you're gonna go. I feel like a bum moochin' off you if you'd run everywhere fer me."

"Do not worry about it," Oliver weakly insisted. "We already agreed that you have your place making sure the flat is spiffy and spotless," without popcorn littered on the ground.

"Yeah, an' I guess cookin' dinner an' massagin' your feet after a long day is in that?"

Oliver jerked from the stairs, and gave his housemate a broad grin. "If that is an offer..."

Allen turned his head, pointedly staring at the opposite wall. "Do I have a choice? It'd be mean o' me, even if you forced me to walk 'round wit' a frilly pink apron!"

"Ooh, darling, you're giving me all these ideas!"

"Nuh-uh, they're not ideas...th-they're examples."

"Examples of ideas."

Allen did not heed to the short comment. "So, yeah, you don't gotta run to all these places, an' then come back, just to go out wit' me again. I'll come wit' you."

"Oh." Oliver chewed on the inside of his cheek. That entire conversation just went in a circle. He glanced to the stairs, contemplating in quietly leaving, but that may cause more problems than just bringing Allen along during the medical run. It was just a cooler, after all. He could come up with some excuse on the way there.

"You okay, babe?"

Oliver slightly jolted, realizing he was lingering on the landing. "Ah, yes, I was just thinking..."

A furious munch of popcorn jumped over the television's volume. "'bout what?"

"Um..." Oliver looked to the floor boards for answers. "Y-you in an apron, cooking dinner?"

"That's somethin', Ollie."

"Getting stains on your clothes sounds better to you?"

Allen only grumbled and wiggled around on his seat, his focus going to the television screen. A faint ringing erupted from below, too soft to be the bakery's bell. "I think the bell downstairs is ringin'."

"I know," Oliver breezed downstairs so no further questions were raised. He hurried to the basement so the ringing would stop, and Allen would not pick up that it was coming from somewhere else. Even when he was facing Nikolai, the operator shook it one last time for good measure. The baker felt his eyes through the goggles as he grabbed the cooler, adjusting to the heavy weight before scurrying away.

Right away, Oliver snatched the car keys, and took the goods to the trunk. He opened the car door, groaning how stifling the vehicle was from the summer sun. He started the engine, made sure the passenger side was unlocked, and shut the door. The thought of leaving Allen at the bakery popped up again, but he pushed it away like he pushed the door out to duck into the building.

"Allen, we should go now! Allen!"

"Jeez, hold on!" His voice was muffled from upstairs. "I'm comin'!"

"I will be outside!" Oliver waited against the side door, opting to breathe in fresh air rather than sizzling against the leather seats while the old air conditioning kicked on. Despite the possible excuses running in his mind about the medical run, when Allen pushed open the bakery's door, a timid smile rose to his features. However, the other man's eyes were on anything else but his.

"Damn, Ollie, did I ever tell you those shorts got me goin' all sorts o' crazy?"

Oliver could not stifle his delighted giggle. He really did not want to make excuses for his partner of any sort. "Getting ahead of yourself even before our date begins?" He raised his chin to be at level with Allen as he drew closer. He leaned forward, arms out on both sides of the baker to tent himself in front of him, but as soon as his palms made contact with the vehicle's metal, he flinched.

Allen danced away, shaking his hands. "Ow, shit! That's hot!"

If Oliver kept rolling his eyes, they would be lodged in an odd manner, but he had an idiot to blame if that happened. "What makes you think the outside of a car would be cooler to the touch than the inside, which is too hot for me to sit in?"

"I-I wasn't thinkin' 'bout that!"

"You were actually thinking?" Oliver raised his eyebrows, blinking in surprise. "You should be careful with that, dear. Thinking is a dangerous thing."

"Are we gon' eat or not?"

"Who says I am taking you out to eat?" Oliver grinned at Allen's groans of annoyance as he jammed his hands into his jean's pockets. "Maybe I was planning on taking you to a clothing department."

"Are you?"

"Well, you do need new trousers."

"Huh? You talkin' 'bout these? Babe, these are new."

"They already have holes in them, though."

"They're supposed to be like that."

Oliver shook his head. "What? That is madness. Why would you buy already ripped clothes?"

"Uh...'cause they're cool?"

He pushed from the car, and opened the door. "We should go now." The baker slid over the passenger seat for the driver's side. Allen flopped into his seat much less gracefully, heavily sighing. Once his door was harshly closed, Oliver leaned over to press his lips against his bruised cheek. "Mister Cool Guy."

Allen rumbled like he did not want to laugh, but did anyway. He wedged his fingers underneath the tears in his jeans. "Are they that bad?"

"If you like them, then wear them. I just think that since you are a young, handsome man, you would look dashing if you presented yourself as such."

"Dashing? What, am I goin' to a ball anytime soon?"

"Oh, quiet you," Oliver gripped the steering wheel to peer out the rear mirror. "I am sure Flavio can fix you up if you need clothes."

"I need money first."

"No, you do not."

"Come on, babe."

"I told you, it is not mooching...as long as that apron we were talking about earlier comes into play..."

~.~

~zoom~

~.~

"We are here. Stay in the car."

Oliver looked both ways down the crazy highway, escaped the vehicle, and got behind it before another zoomed by him. The doctors called out to him as they always do when he set the cooler on the sidewalk to close the trunk. Louis came forth to grab it, the usual cigarette dangling out of his mouth. However, this one was not lit yet.

The lady took the cooler from him with a sour look. With her other hand, she plucked the stick from his mouth. "What did I say about your cancer sticks? Did you just pop that one in your mouth?"

"My lungs, my business," Louis went to grab it, but she dropped it to the sidewalk, and crushed it to the concrete. The third doctor snickered, earning double glares. He dug in his pockets, and produced a wad of cash, which he waved in the air, coaxing Oliver toward him.

"I'm not talking about your shitty lungs," the woman retorted. "Apparently your brain is rotting, too."

Oliver giggled, tucking the money into his shorts before glancing to his car. Allen stared at the trio with a vague expression of curiosity. The baker opened his mouth to say his farewells, but caught a mouthful of the stench of old smoke. "See what I have to put up with?" Louis' voice was too close in his ear as he set a palm against the teen's lower back. "Times likes these remind me why I do it."

"Did I not tell you so many times long ago to stop bothering me? I do not like you."

Louis pressed closer. "You can learn how."

"Now look," the other man pointed out with an outstretched hand. "He's going to get lung cancer too, because of you."

Oliver tried to step away. He did not want to like Louis. He liked to dislike him. It was an odd exhilaration to have a petty enemy. The hand on his back clamped onto his shorts, causing him to yelp and shove away from the other man. The blond held up his arm, performing grabbing motions as the baker brushed off his rear. "Huh, there was nothing there."

His coworkers only rolled their eyes, sniggling from his usual antics. "Hey, hey!" Everyone snapped to Allen's voice jumping out of the car. He dangled out of the window, clamping onto the glass to spit at Louis, "Don't touch that ass! You hear me?"

Louis sighed, gazing at the sky. "I am hearing something, that is for sure."

"Allen get back in the car before you fall out," Oliver demanded.

The woman shot him a surprised look. "I think you should leave now."

"I think so, too," the baker grumbled. Allen was still shooting death at the doctors when he settled in the driver's seat. As the car pulled away, his stare did not cease until they were out of sight in the vehicle's mirrors.

His sat back in his seat with a low snort of disbelief. "What was that 'bout?"

"Yes, Allen, what was that about?"

"That guy touched you all creepy like!"

Oliver asked quietly, "That concerns you more than what was inside the mystery cooler?"

"That dude was creepin'!"

"Oh," he giggled, strangely flattered. "He is French."

"What's that got to do wit' anythin'?"

"I thought that would be enough for an explanation. He does that all the time."

"To you?"

"To everyone and anyone."

Allen let out a grunt as he eased against his seat once more. "So what was in the cooler?"

Oliver nibbled his own lower lip, but kept his gaze on the road. "Doctor stuff."

"Doctor stuff? Why you deliverin' doctor stuff if you bake shit?"

The baker's eyes flickered to his passenger. "It...it was what Bella used to do. Louis, the creeper man, is her grandson...was her grandson. So, it is sort of a family business I took over after she died."

"I thought Bella was a baker, too."

Oliver felt his throat start to thicken in threat of distress. "She was, but this is something she did on the side. I deliver...things to doctors. I am a courier. That is all."

"That's where you get your money? Doctors are rich fellas, aren't they?"

"Yes," Oliver replied quietly. The leather of the wheel squeaked in worry beneath his grip. "It is good. These things help people."

"I ain't complainin'," Allen said. He rubbed at his injured cheek before clamping onto Oliver's bare thigh. His leg gave a little jump, but nothing outshone the silly smile plastered on his face. "So how'd Bella die anyway? I know she was coughin' fer a lil' while..."

"Cancer. Bella had cancer, and it was spread throughout her body. She was rather stubborn about getting help, and she passed in her own home."

"Were you there, when she...you know?"

"Those doctors put her to sleep. None of us wanted to drag it out, and I am certain Bella didn't either."

"Aw shit," Allen wriggled around. "She was pretty cool fer an old lady. She had a really hard hit to her, though."

Oliver let out a little titter from the fingers petting his leg. "Maybe you should have behaved yourself more."

His company leaned over to ask against his jaw, "What's the fun in that?"

"You would not get hit by old ladies," the baker clenched his teeth so he would not squeak embarrassingly as Allen nipped at his skin. "I'm trying to drive here."

"Where are you takin' me?"

"Ah...you will see when we get there."

Allen gave up his interrogation attempts with a soft sigh, and slumped against his door. He gazed out the window, and gasped as the car rode through familiar parts of town. "Is that the gelato place? Ollie!"

Oliver was already scrambling out of the car with a evil giggle. "Come on, love, before I order something without you!"