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The alarm clock goes off an hour early. That's never a good sign as far as Guy's concerned. He rolls over, squishing half his face into the pillow--mmm, good pillow--and cracks open one eye to squint at the obnoxiously bright and far too brazen digital readout informing him that yes, it is actually five a.m. Not six.
Guy's not the best thinker in the world when he's freshly awake, and definitely not before he's had a few cups of coffee. Maybe a pot of coffee. It all depends on how sleep-hungover he is. It takes him a minute of peering at the clock and fumbling for his glasses to board the logic train, which tells him that the clock is new and therefore cannot be broken-down already (and if it is, he's getting his money back), which then means that someone had to have reset the alarm for ungodly o'clock.
As there's only one other person in his apartment at this time, Guy concludes that the evil clock re-setter has to have been the man currently snoring by his side. Cameron. The man Guy will, ninety-nine percent of the time, say he loves. Who he's not feeling too fond of right now, and who'd better have a damn good reason for deliberately waking Guy up this early--Guy alone, because as evidenced by his contentedly sleeping on, drooling a few drops on his pillow, Cameron could easily sleep through an archangel blowing reveille on his trumpet.
Guy considers crawling out of bed, shuffling into the kitchen and coming back with a handful of ice cubes to dump down Cameron's sleep shorts. Even he's not that cruel no matter what the cause, though, and to be fair he does love the idiot, so he settles on poking Cameron in the soft part of his side.Sharply.
"Mmf?" Cameron mumbles, sleep-slurred. "Guy?"
"Who else would it be?" Guy shakes Cameron's shoulder. "There some reason you set the clock back?"
Guy rolls his eyes. "Forget it. I'm going back to sleep."
"No, no, wait, hang on." Cameron sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning like the great big kid in a grown man's body that he is. And what a body. No matter how grouchy he might be, Guy's mouth goes dry when he gets his first look of the day at Cameron's long, lean torso and cobbled abs.
He thinks, for a moment, that it's should be illegal in all states for Cameron to have those kinds of muscles when Cameron never does anything to earn them, but what the hell. Guy gets to enjoy the eye candy. It tends to make up for the miles he himself has to jog and the weights he lifts whenever he has time to stay in shape.
As directed, Guy patiently holds his horses. If he's slow to wake up, Cameron could compete for his country in early morning grogginess. Cameron blinks dazedly into the darkness and stretches his arms, nearly clocking Guy in the nose.
"Watch it, pal." Guy settles himself more comfortably on the bed and tucks his hands behind his head. He gazes at Cameron, at the smoothness of his skin over his deep-baked tan and the disheveled state of his shoulder-length hair, bleached three shades lighter than its natural toffee brown by Cameron's hours in the sun. It's escaped from its habitual ponytail, and Cameron looks as if a startled hedgehog in need of a conditioning treatment attached itself to his head during the night.
Though he's not at Cameron's level, Guy knows he's no slouch in the looks department. He's turned a few heads in his day with his strong jaw and his clear gray eyes. He does, however, flatter himself that his shorter, tidier hair doesn't do that unless he's caught in gale-force winds coming in from the Gulf.
Cameron turns to Guy, smiling sleepily. "Morning."
"Same to you," Guy replies, almost fully awake now, his mood improving by the moment. "Cameron. The alarm?"
"Huh?" Cameron blinks dozily. "Oh! Right. I wanted some extra time this morning."