The Alpha Twins and their Runaway Witch

10

Alex showered first, he would need the extra time to blow dry and style his hair before they went out this evening. August unpacked their preferred bar outfits, the shirts needed to be ironed after being crammed in their small bags. While Alex showered, August got the hotel ironing board and plugged in the wall mounted iron.

While the iron warmed, he grabbed his boots to shine the road dirt from the black leather. Leaving the shine kit out for Alex to do his own damn boots when he finished in the shower. August had his shirt finished and was halfway through Alex's when the shower stopped. Alex would shave in the mirror. August knew his brother's routine down to every small detail. Finishing the second shirt, exactly when Alex opened the door.

Alex showed the built in hair dryer to August. "You're gonna need to leave the door open." Alex went to his bag to get clean boxers and socks while August went to the steamy bathroom for his own shower. August grumbled to himself, Alex could not take a shower without drowning the bathroom. The thin hotel bath mat was drenched from one side to the other, there were puddles on the tiled floor. Stubble and spat out toothpaste foam stuck on the sink, razor left out, shaving cream on the counter, cap off. Long hair everywhere. Three used washclothes wadded up on the counter. How kind that Alex left one.

August felt that Alex kept his hair long to make sure he could always shower first and wreck every bathroom they ever had to share before August got his turn. How could a man who was so exacting and controlling absolutely everywhere else in his life, be such a damn slob in the bathroom? Alex might be his twin, but he baffled August sometimes. While Alex often found his brother too calm and relaxed. Unable to cook a damn egg by himself he was so unfocused. Alex had entered the kitchen too times to count to find a pot boiled dry, burner still on. Burnt eggs exploded everywhere.

Alex erupted into the peaceful bathroom during August's shower after only a few minutes. Blow drying his shoulder length hair. Errant blasts of the hair dryer blowing the shower curtain inward so the wet fabric stuck to August's skin. He sighed and just dealt with it. Alex's pride and joy was his hair. Vain asshole. August knew complaining would just make Alex turn to a sour mood. No one had a good time when he was sour.

August got out of the shower, towelled off and went to get dressed while Alex bemoaned over the high humidity in the bathroom after they had both showered. August could not roll his eyes any harder at his brother. It was just hair, it grows on your head. The amount of effort and thought Alex put into his hair baffled August.

Alex was ready and went to check out the news on the tv while he waited for Alex to finish getting ready. Nothing of note. A rain storm forecasted to hit overnight, spots updates, a female body had been found in the woods. Then finally Alex was ready. Using the black silk cord with golden aglets at each end to tie his hair up in a flawless top knot. Smooth and sleek.

Alex put on the freshly ironed shirt. Remembering to actually say thank you this time at least. The brothers went out into the hall. Hoping to have a nice, chill meal, a few drinks and perhaps someone for dessert in the bedroom.

Alex and August rolled up to the hotel restaurant and bar. Asking for a table in the bar. It was the middle of the week, and the place was abuzz with activity. Which did not seem to be out of the ordinary to either of them. The Rose Gold resort at Golden Green was always busy. It would be reasonable to think that all of the similar branded resorts would be as busy, especially in a populated city instead of rural Golden Green.

Their waitress was practically throwing herself at the two of them as they tried to enjoy their dinner. They were starving after another long day on the road. Breakfast and lunch were survival. The evening meal was the one Alex and August tried to enjoy each day. A chance to enjoy actually good food, relaxed in a comfortable table. A chance to unwind after hours on the road. Every time the overly attentive waitress came by their table her neckline had crept a little lower on her cleavage, or her skirt had inched up her thighs.