Ashton wakes up encased in Kristoffer's arms, trapped in a kindly embrace. Kristoffer is still asleep, breathing heavily; he's a deep sleeper. He lets himself stay in his grip, cosying into his warm body. Yes, he's pissed off with him. But he's cold, so he can deal with it. It's Kristoffer's weekend, a small break from work where they can enjoy each other's company. Ashton rolls over, nestling further into his arms, head resting on his chest. He feels Kristoffer stir in his sleep, a groan escaping his lips. He rubs his eyes, involuntarily pulling Ashton closer by the small of his back.

'Morning,' Ashton whispers, pretending that he's not angry with him. Kristoffer yawns and pulls him closer still.

'Morning... oh, fuck. I promised you something,' Kristoffer mumbles, 'Can I talk to you over breakfast?'

'Sure. I'm going to get dressed, come to breakfast when you're awake,' Ashton yawns, stretching his arms up high and fumbling for his glasses on the side table. Kristoffer curls himself up in the covers, closing his eyes, hoping for a bit more sleep. He watches as Ashton pulls his shirt off, finding a few new ones in his cupboard and comparing a few with his pair of baggy black jeans. Kristoffer feels his cheeks turning red as he watches him. Ashton pulls his chosen shirt over his head, pulling his wings through the rips in the back and spinning around in the mirror. He ruffles his copper curls before groaning in annoyance and pacing toward his bedside table. He sets his rings on his left hand ring finger. He plants a kiss on Kristoffer's forehead before leaving. Kristoffer shuts his eyes, beaming at the weak touches of the thought of him.

When he finally processes that the earth is spinning, he gets himself dressed and goes out to breakfast. As he gets dressed, he begins to concoct his apology. He neatens out his dreadlocks, finally throwing open the curtains and straightening out their bedcovers. He looks at Ashton's bedside table. It has a book, a half-drunk glass of water, a little jewellery dish where he leaves his rings, and a lamp. His phone charger is lying on the floor. He takes in a deep, courageous breath and leaves, walking toward the dining table. Ashton is already sat down, a piece of toast in front of him as he reads the news on his phone. At the other chair is another piece of toast, clearly waiting for Kristoffer. Kristoffer pecks Ashton tenderly on the forehead, 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome. You wanted to say something to me?' Ashton places his phone down, resting his face on his hands. Before Kristoffer can even say anything, his words catch in his throat as he looks at Ashton. His ginger curls fall onto his neck and into his emerald eyes, pale skin contrasting with his constellation of coffee-coloured freckles. His lips look so soft, his face so neutral, his wings glossy white feathers, his eyelashes long, and his silver hexagonal glasses perched perfectly on his nose. He feels his cheeks turn red at the sight of him.

'Yeah. You know how I left you last night?' Kristoffer is mentally preparing himself for the worst. Ashton nods, cocking an eyebrow at him. Kristoffer takes Ashton's spare hand, his thumb running over the soft freckled skin on the back of his hands, 'I'm really sorry for doing that. Something was happening that I needed to help with. It won't happen ever again, I promise. I know it was really wrong of me to do. I don't even need you to forgive me. I just want you to know that I'm sorry.'

Ashton's eyes are brighter, a slight smile lacing the corners of his lips. Still, scepticism pinches the place between his eyebrows, 'What was it that was so desperate? We haven't danced like that in ages. Last time was...'

'Our wedding,' Kristoffer joins in with Ashton's last few words, dropping his head down low, 'I know. I realise that. Some people weren't on the guest list, I had to help Eddie escort them to the right place.'

Kristoffer holds his breath slightly, waiting for Ashton to face him with more scepticism. Luckily, it seems sufficient to him, his face softening into a tender smile, 'I understand that you're sorry. In the grand scheme of things, you've done worse. I'm not too bothered about this one. Just... promise? Promise you won't run off again?'

'I promise. I keep those,' Kristoffer smiles at Ashton, unable to contain himself as he looks at him, 'I find it hard to break promises with you. It's difficult.'

*

Ashton is reading on the sofa. Kristoffer is cooking dinner. Kristoffer has his phone in the kitchen, playing music quietly through a miniature speaker as they go about their own tasks. It fades from a favourite of theirs into a slower song. Kristoffer looks around the wall separating the living room from the kitchen, a smile on his face. Ashton looks up, placing a bookmark in his page and returning his smile.

'Let's try this again, hm?' Kristoffer is at the sofa in only three or so strides, offering Ashton his hand. He places his book down in his place before welcoming himself into Kristoffer's arms. Kristoffer places his hands on Ashton's waist, letting Ashton hold on tight to his shoulders. He's virtually on his tiptoes, but it's worth it to be so precariously near to him. Nothing to interrupt them, nothing that could cause any problems. Just each other taking in the presence of the other, filling their brains with honeyed rapture. They couldn't wish for anything else right now.

Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I'm tired and I
I want to go to bed
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
And then leave me alone
Don't try to wake me in the morning
'Cause I will be gone

Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go

Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I don't want to wake up
On my own anymore
Sing to me
Sing to me
I don't want to wake up
On my own anymore

Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go

There is another world
There is a better world
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Well...

Bye, bye
Bye...

*

'Another one dead, for fucks sake! Can't you keep this under control?' Eddie screams at Adams, nearly blowing her hat off. They slam their hands on the desk, taking a whistled breath out through an o-shaped mouth, 'I've got my Anti-AMI employees working extra shifts for you to not even give a shit?'

'E-Eddie, please,' Adams is shaking in fear, her hands clasping each other in a desperate attempt to help herself calm down, 'We're doing everything we can.'

'Is it a link to the Jackson-Smiths? Is this familial dispute or a serious thing at hand?'

'I'll get it figured out,' Adams promises backing out of Eddie's office. Before they can scream another word, Adams has slammed the door and left them with a case file. Eddie presses their fingers into their forehead, as if trying to dig their digits into their brain to pluck a thought like a needle in a haystack. Their forehead is hot, feverish, cold sweat beading and dripping down their forearms. It soaks into the cuffs of their shirt.

'Fuck, someone save us.'