Love is a Three Letter Word [You]

VIII

"What the fuck?!" Diedrich jumped up and stared at the bed with Vincent sleeping soundly on it. His shirt messed up and barely on him, while Diedrich didn't have a single piece of clothing. Furniture was all over the place (as were clothes) and he had zero memories outside of the headache he currently had. That wasn't enough information.

"Hmm?" Vincent lazily opened his eyes and yawned. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and looked up at Diedrich. "Is it morning?"

"Don't 'is it morning' me what the fuck are you doing in my bed? Why am I naked? How the hell are we back in my apartment? What happened last night?" Diedrich cursed himself for raising his own voice. His head hurt all the more now.

"Do you really want to know the details?" Vincent stretched and sat up. His shirt revealing more and more of his chest as he moved. His pants also gently sneaking down his waist.

"W-what?" Diedrich's face flushed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Vincent stared into Diedrich's eyes without many expressions crossing his face. He glanced down Diedrich's body for a second before pointing. "I don't really mind if you're naked but don't you think you should put some clothes on before I answer any questions?" Vincent then stared at his own body. He wasn't going to walk around with wrinkled clothing. Absolutely not. "And, do you have a shirt I can borrow?" This felt familiar. How many more things was he going to borrow from Diedrich? And then conveniently never return?

Diedrich scrambled around his own living quarters and tried to find clothing that was clean. He threw a shirt at Vincent and got dressed himself. Vincent sighed, taking off his shirt to put on Diedrich's. He was tempted to take off his pants too and do the whole 'boyfriend shirt' thing but he decided that was a bit too much for Diedrich to handle right now. Should he roll up the sleeves? Or do the whole floppy-sleeve thing? What was Diedrich's type outside of trashy men? Vincent moved his arms to watch the sleeves flop around. Yeah, this was fine.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Vincent looked up, continuing to flop the sleeves around. He was still kind of tired. It took him a few moments to wake up, especially when rudely awakened. "My arms are shorter than yours I'm just looking at the difference..." Vincent stood up and stared at the length of the shirt. If there was just one more button it would cover his crotch perfectly. Damn. Too short for him not to wear pants.

"I didn't expect you to be so..." Diedrich couldn't think of the word.

"So?"

"Cute?" he shook his head. That didn't seem right.

"Do you want me to be cute, Dee?" Vincent cocked his head to the side.

"Your bedhead is also unexpected. You have a lot of cowlicks," Diedrich stepped forward and pet Vincent's head, patting the hair down only for it to flip up again.

"I think that's just because you made the bed wet."

"It doesn't look lik- wait, what do you mean by that? What were you going to have me say just then?" Diedrich's face became redder. No. You did that all on your own. Vincent wasn't talking about semen.

"You drool in your sleep."

"What?"

"You drool," Vincent stretched out his arms to wrap them around Diedrich. "So when you hugged me your mouth was in my hair an-"

"I get it!" Diedrich pushed Vincent away. "Stop talking!"

"But, I thought you had questions?"

"Did we, uhm..."

"Did we what?" Vincent stared blankly.

"Did we..." Diedrich scratched the back of his neck.