Peanut Butter
"Toast?"
Dom groaned. He was hungover, kinda queasy and pretty damn sure that little cartoon ducks were currently orbiting his head. All these things were not conductive to dealing with an Orlando bearing toast. "I feel sick."
Orlando, that bastard, chuckled. Fucker. It wasn't like he didn't get equally wasted last night so why the fuck was he so perky now. It was fucking unfair. The bed dipped as Orlando sat down on the end and waved the plate of toast under Dom's nose. "Come on, eat up, Hobbit. Busy day ahead of us."
Dom just blanched and cursed quietly.
Revenge was certainly a dish best served cold, Dom decided as he waved a plate of toast above Orlando's head. The tables had turned, oh yes. Now who was green around the gills and refusing a plate of toast, huh?
"Fuck off, Dominic."
Dom's smile was practically angelic as the plate continued orbiting over Orlando's head. It would be so easy to accidentally drop the toast from the plate as it passed over Orlando's face. Everyone knows that toast always falls sticky side down and it's purely accidental that Dom chose to spread peanut butter on this slice.
"Oops!"
Orlando's face! Oh, Dom knows he may have a problem ever handling a jar of peanut butter again, not without bursting into hysterical laughter as the memory of Orlando's reaction - a most undignified, unmanly and certainly, unelvish screech as the toast's orbit failed, fell off and collided - peanut butter side first, of course - with Orlando's sleep ruffled hair and then slid oh so slowly down his cheek until it finally reached the bend of neck and shoulder and settled.
Still, Dom thought, licking his lips clean of peanut butter traces. The clean up had been fun.