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Dr. Iplier was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and trying to get Bim and Silver to stop bickering for once in their lives but they weren’t exactly listening to him. He shot a distressed look at Google over his shoulder, the only other ‘mature’ (none of them were fucking mature, let’s face it) ego in the room. “Google? A little help? Please?”

Google simply raised an eyebrow, leaning back more comfortably in his seat. He shifted his gaze back to Bim and Silver. Bim looked about ready to launch himself across the table, murder in his eyes and seething as Silver just crossed his arms and stared him down with equal defiance. Google chuckled. “Why would I do that? It’s just getting good.”

Dr. Iplier groaned, and Eric piped up from where he was sitting. “Um, g-guys? Maybe we could…not…fight? Please don’t hurt each other…”

Thank you, Eric,” Dr. Iplier exclaimed, shooting another look at Google before going back to eggs he was scrambling. Bim and Silver both shut up, but judging by the distressed noises Eric was making and the laughter still coming from Google they were most likely still flipping each other off and sticking their tongues out at one another.

Again, maturity.

Dr. Iplier visibly brightened when he heard the mumbled voice approaching, focusing on plating the eggs as the Host rounded the corner, not quite noticing when the others went dead silent. “Good morning, Host! How do you want your eggs?” He spun around, intent on giving his beloved a bright smile but instead his mouth fell open, eyes going wide.

The Host was standing in the entranceway, his head bowed and turned away, and his cheeks a dark red as he gripped his bicep. Instead of his usual dress shirt and trench coat, he was wearing a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt with ‘I’m the Doctor’ written on it with an accompanying image of the T.A.R.D.I.S. that was obviously Dr. Iplier’s. The Host seemed to shrink in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible as the others’ stares became blatantly obvious. “All…a-all of the Host’s clothes are bloody disasters. This is all he could find…”

Dr. Iplier’s jaw moved but no sound came out, heat steadily rising in his cheeks as he took in the image of the Host in casual clothing. The sight had completely deep-fried his brain, leaving him in awe and speechless. And when the Host finally glanced up to face him, his own face gradually turning a darker red, well, there went his heart, too, doing backflips in his chest as his stomach filled with fluttering butterflies. He felt like a kid with a crush, just as he had all those years ago before he and the Host had gotten together.

Bim snickered suddenly, moving to stand by Dr. Iplier and nudging him gently, whispering in his ear. “Hey Doc, your nose is bleeding.”

Dr. Iplier was abruptly very aware of something wet dripping down his face. He snapped out of his trance, blinking rapidly and pressing his fingers to the wetness, panicking slightly when they came away red. “Oh shit!” He darted to the table, Silver helpfully passing him a couple napkins that he quickly pressed to his face, tilting his head back.

Bim burst into full cackling laughter, falling back into his chair and igniting a deeper blush on both the Host and Dr. Iplier. The blind ego had yet to move from the entranceway as Dr. Iplier smacked Bim repeatedly on the shoulder, well, as best as he could with one arm, as his left was still in a cast. “Shut up, Bim! You’re not helping!”

Bim didn’t even bother trying to stifle his laughter. “I’m not trying to! You guys are cute, you know that?” Dr. Iplier just smacked him again and the Host looked desperately like he wished he had his coat to hide in.

“Ooooh, laughter! Who are we laughing at and can I join in?” Wilford came bouncing into the room, Dark’s hand in his with the demon trailing after him and seeming completely oblivious to the way the Host was dressed.

The Host covered his face in his hands as Bim split in a shit-eating grin, fending off Dr. Iplier with both hands as he turned his head to face Wilford. “Just look at the Host! Dr. Iplier got a fucking bloody nose!”

Wilford and Dark both spun around, and Wilford immediately burst into his own fit of laughter, eyes darting between Dr. Iplier with the bloody napkins pressed to his face and the furiously blushing Host. “Oh, that’s adorable! You look good, Host!”

When even Dark began snickering, the Host dropped his hands, spinning on his heel. “Maybe the Host should go find something more suitable to wear, considering he is causing so much ah…distraction with his current attire.”

Dr. Iplier’s eyes shot wide as he began to walk away. He lunged forward, grabbing the Host’s arm and pulling him toward the table. “No no no, no, you’re good, stay, uh, like that, it’s uh…” His brain short-circuited again, staring up at the Host’s face and wiping away the last of the blood from his nose. The Host gave him a quizzical look, lips parted slightly and suddenly Dr. Iplier couldn’t stop himself, surging forward and claiming the Host’s lips in an abrupt kiss. It wasn’t romantic or sweet in any sense of the words, the Host jolting back in surprise but cupping Dr. Iplier’s face all the same, and Dr. Iplier could still taste blood in the back of his throat, but the Host was just so beautiful and looked beyond precious and adorable in Dr. Iplier’s t-shirt, he couldn’t resist.

They broke apart, the Host’s lips still parted in surprise and confusion, and Dr. Iplier cleared his throat. “I…uh…” He turned around, shooting a smile in Bim’s direction. “Uh Bim? Could you…cover breakfast for me today, I don’t think I really can, not with…” He gestured to his nose, slinking his good arm around the Host’s waist and making the poor confused ego’s blush begin to creep down his neck.

Bim snorted, standing up. “Yeah, I’ve got you. You two just sit down and enjoy each other.” Wilford made an odd choking noise at Bim’s choice of words, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter and Dark shot him a look from across the table.

Dr. Iplier was almost positive he was bleeding again at Bim’s command, but the two obeyed all the same, slipping into their seats. The Host turned to face him with a raised eyebrow, a slight smirk present on his face. “The Host had no idea how much his attire would effect Dr. Iplier,” he murmured, low enough that Dr. Iplier didn’t know if anyone else could hear. The Host gave a broad grin. “Perhaps he should wear his beloved’s clothing more often.”

Now Dr. Iplier knew he was bleeding again as he nodded enthusiastically, a few drops of red landing on his cast. “Yes, yes you should, please.”

Hey! I know I said enjoy each other but keep the dirty talk to your own rooms, alright?”

Both egos flushed.

Fuck off, Bim!