![]() “Want to tell me what you’re doing in my kitchen at–” he glanced at the microwave clock– “three in the morning?” He paused. He raised his eyebrows as Edward approached and opened his stupid smirking mouth as if to spout something snarky, but Edward beat him to it, marching over and snatching the glass of wine from him, nearly cracking the glass with the force of his grip. The Author leaned casually against the sideboard, sipping from a mostly empty glass of Edward’s good wine. ![]() Once he stepped foot into his cramped apartment kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a form-fitting blue t-shirt, his hair sleep-tousled and sticking up in all directions, he would find he was absolutely right. Anger roiled in his chest as he shoved the covers aside and got out of bed he knew exactly who those footsteps belonged to. They tramped around his kitchen without a care for the sixteen hour shift he’d finished just two hours ago. ![]() Tags: “Wanna tell me what you’re doing in my kitchen at 3AM?”įootsteps woke him up.
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