Ashton was a morning person. He loved everything about the morning- the fresh crisp smell of the air, the delicious coolness of the breeze on his skin, and, of course, breakfast!

	He liked breakfast a lot. Almost as much as dinner, but then, dinner bit back.

	There was just one tiny problem with mornings- after long days and energetic nights, he found it hard to wake up in the mornings, taking /hours/ before he felt fully awake, by which time it was usually lunch. It was Dias who took upon himself the task of making sure that Ashton woke up fully, and the swordsman never missed an oppurtunity to grumble about how hard it was to get him up.

	Not this morning, though. For once, Ashton had managed to wake up earlier than Dias. He sat up in bed, yawning, and turned around, pleasantly surprised to find Dias sprawled in a tangle of blankets and looking as sweet as a baby in his sleep. 

	And he /did/, Ashton told his protesting subconcious, even if Dias would definitely not remind anyone of a sweet innocent baby when he was awake and concious. For a moment he wondered how the swordsman managed to look so fierce and cold in the day among others and so carefree when he was sleeping. A small smile curved his lips. 

	He lost the tension at night, perhaps.

	Gently, he disentangled himself from the mess of bedsheets and blankets on the bed, and went to stand by the curtained windows, careful not to make any noise that would disturb his sleeping roommate. On his back, Gyorou stirred sleepily and stretched towards the light. Ururun, it seemed, was still asleep.

	"Awrk?" The dragon squawked sleepily. Ashton raised a finger to his lips. "He's still asleep."

	Muttering, the dragon settled back into sleep. Ashton glanced back at the bed, where Dias slept on, oblivious to the world. For a travelling fighter, he was a surprisingly heavy sleeper. Ashton noted with surprise that Dias snored when he slept. Softly, not anywhere loud enough to cause problems or wake anyone up, but he /snored/.

	It was rather cute, actually. Dias making little honky noises almost like a kid's harmonica, lips opening and closing with each rise and fall of the chest that marked his breathing, tendrils of hair escaping the braid he slept in.. a scene suddenly spoilt by the low rumbling that issued forth from his stomach. Ashton stared down, realising that it was morning and that he had been kept too busy for dinner last night.

	But after his last encounter in the kitchen, Dias had explicitly forbidden him to go anywhere near it, and there wasn't a scrap of food anywhere else in the house.

	He turned and climbed back into the bed, snuggling up to Dias with his head pillowed on Dias' chest. It was warm and comfortable there, and he contemplated staying that way, until his stomach reminded him again of its hunger by growling, loudly and painfully. Ashton sat up in bed and flipped his hair off his face. 

	Right. Breakfast.

	"Hey, Dias," He shook the other man. "Dias, wake up. I'm hungry."

	Dias raised one arm- and then let it fall, turning over on his side in a more comfortable position.

	"Dias. I'm hungry. You won't let me in the kitchen." Ashton tried again, shaking the sleeping man harder, so that locks of long blue hair slid down his broad shoulders. "Oh, Diia~as.."

	Still deep in slumber, Dias grunted a little and pulled the pillow over his head to cover his ears.

	Miffed, Ashton pulled at the pillow, which stayed firmly in place. He tugged harder, then gave up. How was he supposed to match Dias in terms of brute strength, anyway? Inspiration struck, and he crawled closer to Dias, leaning over the swordsman's body so that they were face to face. "Dias," He breathed, in what he hoped was his deepest and sexiest voice. "Wakey-wakey-uu~up!" At such close proximity, Dias' breath was warm on his face, and he could almost feel Dias' lips moving on his skin as the man drew breath. In spite of himself, Ashton moved closer.

	Then Dias turned over, hitting Ashton in the face with the pillow. Ashton recoiled, feeling as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer instead of the relatively soft- and warm pillow.

	"Hmph!" He retreated, leaning back to sit on his haunches. If Dias wouldn't wake up, Dias needed to be woken up.

	Water? Water was what everyone used. Everybody in tales and romance novels, anyway. And it /would/ do the job, presumably- Ashton thought for a moment, then sighed. He wasn't a masochist, for all that bad luck seemed to follow him wherever he went. Cold and wet sheets wouldn't amuse Dias at all. Not to mention that Dias was pig stubborn enough to probably sleep through even a tub of cold water up-ended over him. And wake up only when he dried off.

	With Ashton's luck, he would probably end up with all the cold water on himself, anyway.

	No water, then. Ice was probably out for the same reason. Which left making loud obnoxious noises at Dias to get up, tickling, and, -Ashton grinned- jumping on top of Dias and pummeling at him with fists until awoke.

	The last possibility, Ashton knew, was liable to get him killed, but it was also the one which held the most appeal for him. He'd leave it for a last resort, then. Making obnoxious noises might not work, for the same reasons which saw Dias quite soundly sleeping through a pail of cold water. But tickling now- Ashton had heard, somewhere, that a person's sensitivity to tickling was linked to his sex drive. In other words, the more ticklish a person was, the better sex would be. Ashton wondered if the reverse was also true. He was to find out, soon enough.


I want to kick Ashton. Not Dias, because he's sleeping, or pretending to, but Ashton refuses to cooperate. I need you to wake up Dias, dear. With as much smutty overtones as you can manage!

1) Have Ashton wake him up. This will probably end up being very, very suggestive. But for that, I need a good reason for Ashton to have to wake Dias up. Because he's hungry, perhaps? Erm, then Dias can have 'breakfast in bed' too! Heh..
2) Angst. Or sap, depending on what I feel like. Then have Ashton fall asleep by the chair in the window, still looking at Dias. Then Dias wakes up and looks at him, angsts for a while or reflects for a while, ending up covering him with a blanket/cloak. Very very sappy.

Hmm, which one should I take? Decisions, decisions..

	He wasn't a masochist, for all that bad luck seemed to follow him wherever he went.