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Drip. Drip. Drip.

Incessant, that was what Klavier would call it. He really wondered why he was putting up with it at all. It was repetitious, yet Klavier would hardly call it a melody, the ting it made on the ground with a splash hidden in the darkness of the room. He'd begged – God knows he'd begged – but all he'd received was an "I can't afford to get that pipe fixed yet" and a shake of the head when he'd offered to pay to get that racket silenced. He'd pleaded, he'd offered… favours, of a sort, he'd even tried to fix that damn pipe himself, and yet still the steady trickle of water continued. Now, with Apollo's arm around his bare waist, and his soft breathing and contented sighs muffled by his hunched back, with the blankets covering both their lithe forms, all Klavier could focus on was that constant drip. Drip. Drip. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

Temptation. The temptation to wake up Apollo and force him to endure this torture. Or the temptation to wake up Apollo and relieve a little… tension. Or the temptation to wake up Apollo to give himself something else to concentrate on. Klavier dimly recognised that his thoughts were becoming more and more perverted as every drip wore away his sanity. As hard as he tried to turn it into a drumbeat, a light tap, anything, the noise refused to be converted, changed, and so remained a steady drip. Drip. Drip.

A sharp intake of breath behind him, and Klavier heard Apollo saying something along the lines of "No, Trucy, you cannot pull a pink hippo out of your pants, no matter how hard you try." He really had to wonder at that. How much had Apollo seen of Trucy's pants, anyway? Then he realised he didn't care, as Apollo was his, the bare arm hugging him tightly told him so. And yet the drip refused to let him stay on that line of thought for too long. Drip. Drip.

Klavier's self restraint snapped temporarily, and he sharply grabbed the nearest pillow, not caring if he jostled Apollo awake. It was all Apollo's fault anyway, yes, his fault that the pipe wasn't fixed in the first place. Apollo's the one to blame. It's all Apollo's fault that this stupid pillow would not block out the intolerable din. Apollo's fault he was even here at all! He'd suggested they stay at his place until the pipe was fixed, yet Apollo had said "But we haven't stayed at mine in a while, and I've even cleaned up for you" and Klavier had just not been able to resist those puppy eyes and that cute smile and… Drip. Drip.

Was there no peace in this place? Was his whole house in mutiny against the German rock star currently residing in the lumpy bed? Was the fact that the dryer would not turn off and the oven take half hour to heat up not enough? What next, would the TV turn itself on in an attempt to disrupt its calm and quiet owner? And all the while it never stopped. Drip. Drip.

It was trying to break him, Klavier decided. A battle of wills. Who could last out the longest? Although admittedly the water had an unfair advantage, not being likely to run out in the near future. Still, Klavier had years of court experience under his belt. He could withstand this. He could, no – he would. He could not disturb the chocolate haired beauty, his forehead, next to him. No, Apollo deserved some sleep. Admittedly, so did Klavier. And it still would not cease! Drip. Drip.

Klavier cracked. The pressure was too much. He conceded defeat. He turned around slowly, and nudge the other occupant with his hand, hoping to gently wake Apollo up, and beg for something to stop that infernal noise. Apollo's gentle breathing was cut off as his coffee eyes opened slowly, half lidded, still in a dream world.

"Apollo?" Klavier questioned, unsure if it was right to wake up at such an hour, yet the dripping in the background pushed all morals to the side. "Apollo, I can't sleep. That damn drip of yours won't stop, and it's annoying me."

"Klavier…?" a yawn interrupted whatever else he was going to say for the moment. "Klavier, you're waking me up at... what time is it? And you can't sleep because of a small drip in the kitchen? And… it's still dark."

"Apollo, shut it up. Please? Bitte? Whatever language it will get you to make it stop?"

"Can't you…" another yawn. "Can't you do it yourself?"

"But Apooooooolloooooooo." Apollo subconsciously flinched. He was begging again, and when he looked like that… Apollo knew his resistance wouldn't last long. Klavier's long blonde hair had fallen loose of it's usually style, and framed his face, some parts sticking up from where his head had been laying on the pillow. His eyes were soft and sleepy, requiring rest, yet denied so by the tapping in the other room. Apollo couldn't bring himself to look away, and that meant…

"Fine. It's fine. I'll go block it with something." Beaten by the prosecution, Apollo slowly dragged the covers off his torso, flinging his legs off the bed in his attempt to stand up. He ignored the happy German doing what could only be described as a celebratory air guitar as he trudged towards the kitchen, and the source of the commotion. Placing a bucket under the crack in the ceiling that allowed the pipe to leak, and then a flannel over the bucket, Apollo applauded himself for his ability to come up with such ingenious ideas. His plan was foiled however, when he walked back into the room to hear Klavier snoring softly, hugging a pillow to his chest, and when he realise that now he himself felt wide awake, thus meaning he would not be able to sleep for a while.

It was tempting to go move the bucket, just so he didn't have to suffer alone.

Klavier woke slowly, noticing it was still rather dark outside. In his befuddlement, it took him a while to work out why he had awoken. Apollo had stopped the pipe from leaking onto the tiled kitchen floor so...

Drip drip drip drip drip?!

… Klavier scowled, realising just how devious his partner was. Apollo had turned on the shower, and then proceeded to get back into bed and fall asleep. Hugging Klavier. Leaving him unable to get up, and therefore, turn the shower off. Resulting in a very diva-esque rock star.

someone's hair gel was miraculously disappearing in the morning.