+Lap Dance+

+Roommates+

   Tord sat up from the black couch, listening to the peeling sound as his skin detaches from the leather.

   ((A//N: Kinky))

   "Ugh." He squints at the walls, not yet gotten used to the bright Sun filtering in from the windows, "Why am I in the... Oh yeah." He yawns, covering his mouth.

   "Tom must have hit the sleep button on my alarm-clock." The Norsk blinks down at his pants, thinking, "I'm late for my morning jog." He murmurs.

   After a moments thought the male stands, pops his back and begins to make his way to his room. He knocks loudly before opening the door, looking at Tom's sleeping form.

   "Aww." He smiles, "He looks so peaceful." He takes a step closer, "It would be a shame if," He sits on the edge of the bed, "Someone were to," His smile becomes a smirk, "Wake him."

   Just as Tord finished his sentence he pulled the black blankets off of Tom, shoving his hands under his shirt to get to his sides. He begins to tickle the shorter male unrelentlessly, laughing.

   The small Brit squeals, jolting from his sleep. He begins to kick and laugh, trying to push Tord's hands off him.

   "Stop!" He giggles, grabbing weakly at the other's wrists, "You evil man!" He kicks.

   "No!" Tord smiles, moving his arms at odd angles to keep from the smaller's grip, "This is too fun." He says, a laugh fading into his words.

   After a bit more of this the taller male sits up and pulls his arms back, a hand slapping him across the face quickly.

   "Jerk!" Tom grunts, getting up from the bed quickly to move to the other side of the room.

   "What did I do?" Tord tilts his head, rubbing his cheek, "You refused to listen to the cries of my clock, so I had to use my own devices." He shrugs.

   Tom scoffs, "Shake me awake!" He yelps angrily, "Or better yet, don't wake me at all!"

   The Norski sighs, "Well, I'm taking you on a run with me so you had to get up!" He frowns.

   "Judging by my body, do I look like I want to go running?" The pale boy squinted, raising an eyebrow.

   "Exactly!" Tord gestures to Tom, "Though I like a person with a bit of squish on them, I don't think the people you'd be into would! You should start going on runs!"

   "I..." Tom opens and closes his mouth for a moment, unable to form words. After a few minutes of gaping like a fish, he speaks, "Well, um... I do guess that would... That'd help.." He murmurs, getting softer as he continues.

   "Great!" The brunette smiles happily, standing again, "Look through that closet for a tank-top." He gestures towards a pair of doors.

   "I'm only doing this because you said you would like me like this." Tom crosses his arms, walking towards the doors, "I do not want that happening! Ever!" He grunts.

   "Rude." Tord places a hand over his heart, "If I had a soul it would be darkening." He huffs, "Anyways, do you want shorts or sweatpants?" He raises an eyebrow?"

   "Shorts." Tom says, opening the doors. He sees some sweaters, button-down flannels, baggy T-Shirts and a few tank-tops.

   He grabs a plain white one, feeling the fabric between his fingers. He shrugs, pulling his shirt off and letting the tank-top be pulled over his head.

   "Baggy, meh." He shrugs, "I'd much prefer a shirt..." He squints at the shirts on the hangers. A smirk grows on his face.

   As he thumbs through the shirts, one catches his eye.

   The milk goes before the cereal. It said. The eyeless male squinted, "I'm so disappointed." He says as he pulls it off the hanger.

   "In Tord for buying it," He says, looking at the white Comic Sans letters, "And in myself for wearing it." He pulls the shirt on, smiling.

   "This man has gained some respect for buying these types of things." He sighs happily, "From one ironic memer to the next, the shirts will be shared." He giggles evilly.

   "Thank you my dear friend for the respect." A new voice says, Right beside Tom's ear.

   Said eyeless Brit screeched and looks over to see Tord with a pair of folded shorts.

   "Immediate loss!" He announces loudly, "No more respect because you are not wamen!"

   "Dammit." The Norsk lets his expression fall, eyes becoming sad and his bottom lip poking out.

   "Give me those!" The pale boy growls, snatching the shorts from Tord. He closes the closet doors and begins to change.

   "nyEEEH!" He yells loudly, kicking the doors open, "I look hot!" He says.

   "Hot™." Tord does quotations with his fingers, smirking. He pulls his sweatpants up, pulling the strings tight and begins to walk out of the room, "Do you want to get coffee while we're out or just go hang out in the park?"

   " b o t h . "

((A//N: bro, our babies are both ironic memers. Pray.))