Heads or Tails (Troyler AU)

//Prologue - Heads or Tails

The small coin slipped easily between his fingers as he hastily turned away from the counter, hurriedly trying to stuff the change back into his wallet. With a groan he dropped to the floor, swiping the fallen coin up with a huff. His knee clicked as he bent down, reminding him of his once again very rushed morning.

With his hands filled with his hot coffee and wallet, the strap of his bag only just clinging onto his shoulder, he bolted for the door, pushing through it with his back. He squinted as he was hit with the brisk early morning sun, reflecting harshly off of all the car windows and glass doors of the London street. He moaned in annoyance, still filled with anger about having to leave his bed this morning at all.

He hitched up his knee, balancing his bag there as he tried to drop his wallet back into it, almost hopping along the street as he tried to continue to move along. His heart was pounding as he felt the time ticking away, the red face of his manager looming in his head. He couldn't be late, not again.

At last taking a sip from his coffee, a small one considering how it burnt his tongue, he picked up his speed, racing along the pavement and weaving through the various other pedestrians. He fumbled to take his phone out from his coat pocket, breathing heavier when he saw the time. He cussed under his breath, shoving his phone back in place and almost starting to run, apologising as he bumped into person after person with equally scowling faces.

It hadn't been entirely his fault that he'd left so late. Yes, he wasn't the biggest fan of mornings, and yes, he might have lazed around slightly after his first alarm, letting it go to his second one, named '1 hour left, you lazy shit'. But then as he was rushing around his flat, trying to simultaneously pack for the day and eat his breakfast, of course Nathan had wandered out of their room in his usual slumber, duvet still draped round his shoulders as he yawned.

"Troye, baby, can you make me coffee?"

"I'm a bit pushed for time, Nate."

He pouted, shuffling over and leaning all his weight on Troye's back where he was bent over his desk, clumsily placing all his stray documents in his folder.

He kissed his neck sloppily, and Troye squirmed out from underneath him, wiping at the saliva he'd left on his skin. "I'm serious, Nate, I was late for the last meeting."

"But I can't make coffee like you do."

Troye paused in his tracks, turning round and freezing under Nathan's wide, pleading eyes. He could feel his control slipping further and further away from him as he took in his boyfriend's sleepy appearance, from his ruffled brown hair to his hazel eyes, his shadow of stubble and naked figure asides from the lopsided boxers on his hips.

"Fine," Troye relented, and Nathan grinned, "But then I really do have to go, okay?"

Nathan said no more, collapsing down onto the sofa and stretching out his legs, flinging his arm to the side to find the TV remote.

Troye dashed around the kitchen to make the coffee, making sure he did it perfectly to Nathan's taste. He kept watch on the clock the entire time, biting his lip as the hands ticked by. Just as he had walked over and reached the back of the sofa, Nathan's mug in hand, his phone vibrated in his pocket and he jumped, nearly dropping the hot liquid all over Nathan in his shock.

"Woah!" Nathan shouted, wriggling up to sitting just as Troye caught his grip on the mug, "Watch your step, Troye."

Troye frowned at the angry flare in Nathan's eyes, shoving the mug into his hands from over the back of the sofa.

"Well get off your lazy arse and make your own coffee, then."

Nathan scoffed as Troye spun round, muttering something about Troye being ungrateful and 'do you ever consider all the work I do to support us?' as Troye strode away, taking out his phone. It had been a text from his management, telling him they needed him there ten minutes earlier than their initial arrangement. Troye looked in dismay at the text for a second, before bursting into action, running over to the door. He skidded on the floor slightly, stuffing his feet into his shoes and wriggling them into position.