Arthur had very little recollection over last night. It was an unsteady blur with some moments that reflected with startling clarity. The taste of whiskey was one of them. And heavy breathing was another, the hot press of his skin against another’s, every vivid sensation burned into his mind. It was impossible to erase, just as the pleasant ache in his muscles told him exactly what had happened the night before. His state of undress and the disagreeable dried remnants over portions of his skin were other clues. Arthur shifted in his bedsheets, curling away from the hints of morning light peeking through the cracks of his curtain. His fingers reached over next to him, even though he knew what he would find.
He felt the cold, empty pillow next to him, along with the wrinkled sheets. The rest of his breath escaped slowly through his nostrils. He wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or settled in that usual bitter resignation of his. Arthur eventually slid carefully off the bed, taking the dirty bedsheets with him. He yanked them the rest of the way off the bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor to remind him to wash his sheets.
Once in the shower, he could only stand under the hot trickle of water, as if that would slowly wash away the memory of who he was whenever he’d had too much to drink, when he took it out on the wrong person. The water would wash away the evidence of it stuck to his skin, the scent that clung to his body. His palm pressed against the tiled wall, taking another slow breath, trying to sober the rest of the way up. He was at least cognizant and no longer acting without thought.
As he finished with the shower, he dried himself very well and pulled on some clothes. He dressed well again, back in his professional mode, as if this hadn’t happened. He went back to pulling the rest of his bedsheets off the bed and bringing the load down into the washing room. Pouring an extra bit of detergent, he started the first bit of laundry for the day. The house was quiet, too quiet for his liking. At least secretly. Although it was far too early for any real movement. The light was still barely peeking through the horizon. So, he moved into the kitchen to start making tea. He waited for the kettle, although didn’t even notice it whistling until a good half minute later. Soon enough, his black tea was seeping, a comfort during hangovers like this.
And on a whim, or perhaps he wasn’t even aware that he was doing this, he started to set things on a tray. The pot of tea, the cups, utensils, sugar, milk, and a plate of shop bought biscuits. And not very long after this, he found himself slowly making his way up the stairs and in front of Alwyn’s closed door. Or, at least the room that Alwyn tended to stay in whenever he was visiting Arthur’s home. The man hesitated, not even entirely sure why he was standing here with morning tea. He set the tray down on one of the corridor tables before gently opening the guest bedroom door. It was dim inside, but not terribly so. Arthur took the tray once more and moved to gently set it down on the bedside table.
Arthur’s eyes wandered, grazed along Alwyn’s form in the bed, as if he could immediately spot any sign of injury from that. He sat in a chair close to the bedside table, slowly starting to make his own cuppa just how he liked it. With a hint of sugar and milk. Although his attention remained on the other.
Alwyn was dead tired. Body still soar from the night before, and from the fact he had made himself get out of his comfortable bed to shower. Which mostly consisted of cold water -helped keep him awake- and scrubbing himself clean, all before putting on some old clothing and passing out in bed. He had no more dreams of the past, thankfully, and only began to stir when the first rays of sunlight peaked through his window. But, it was still early..and the Welshman really did not want to wake.
Not like I have to do anything...Arthur should still be asleep, right? He hoped so. Alwyn knew how much whisky the man drank, and he could just imagine the terrible hangover he'd be having. One would probably think him insane for worrying about the man, but fact of the matter was...Alwyn cared about him. He was still his little brother in his eyes, and despite what happened the night before he still worried over Arthur. It was one of the reasons why he came over to visit him...They were both alone, and Alwyn knew that things were rough for the Brit. Visiting him often, he thought, would benefit both..even if the Welshman had to feel soar sometimes.
His thoughts came to a halt when the sound of a kettle whistling broke through his sleep fogged mind. Which meant Arthur was awake, and probably having morning tea. Well, it seems that he was feeling alright, since he doubted that loud sound would be good on anyone's hangover headache. Though, it also reminded him that he was getting hungry...would probably have to prepare something...but the bed was just too comfortable, so the idea of getting out was not a priority. Sleep was tugging at him once again, until he heard familiar footsteps coming down the hall and towards his room. Which made him curious, but he didn't want to open his eyes just yet. Alwyn was thoroughly planning on keeping his eyes closed, pretending to stay asleep..until he felt the distinct sensation of someone studying him. Slowly, he opened his eyes to look at a familiar face.
Arthur was already dressed, his professional look already in place and appeared to be normal. At least back to his usual self, and Alwyn wondered how much the man remembered from last night. It looked like he was studying him, but Alwyn knew that there wasn't any bruising. At least he didn't know yet, since no marks actually appeared. Most of the pain was in his lower waist... Pushing those musings aside he gave the blonde a tired smile. "m'ornin Arthur..." Bracing himself for the inevitable spike of pain he winced, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. Rolling his shoulders a bit before looking to the tray, everything all set up for morning tea and biscuits. Despite the pain, and the fact this could possibly be an awkward morning...Alwyn felt a bit touched at the other making tea for both of them to share.
With a grin, he pulled his blankets back before swinging his legs out. "This looks Tidy~ I was 'opin for some good tea." his voice was light, friendly...his way of trying to make sure this would not be an awkward morning. He was used to it by now, and he wouldn't bring up anything unless Arthur brought it up.
