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The small grey alarm clock at his bedside rang out the same old tune. (http://youtu.be/ZKxQdZ32S5o) André smirked as the curtains of his large London apartment rose electronically on cue with the music. He let it play out, cheesy but somehow fitting. Another day lay in front of him, and he could do whatever he pleased with it.
His bare feet met the rubber flooring. This was fitted because carpet was too 'weak' but he needed something that wouldn't crack his head open if he slipped during a 'situation'. It was also relatively easy to clean post the same occurrences...
Flicking his head to the side, he managed to clear some of the thick black locks away from his eyes. Damned stuff didn't know how to behave without two cans of hairspray a day...
He lifted himself effortlessly from the bed, yawning in the process. The sun blasted it's light through his large, clear windows. He then proceeded to stand at the end of the bed and gazed over the ebony sheets that cradled his lover's figure.
"Connard" 'Asshole' He muttered.
"I heard that..." Jeremy murmured "dick." and used what little effort he had to catapult a pillow into André's general direction.
"Missed"
"Sht'p" The young Moriarty dug his head into his pillow in a search for more sleep.
Jeremy was technically the youngest of the family...Well, excluding his elder sister Sharon's children, but no one included Sharon in anything. Lord and Lady Moriarty are happy to exclude her from as many things as possible. This status had it's disadvantages, especially when it came to taking the blame.
As young boy, he and his elder twin, James, were inseparable. But James was always getting into trouble and blaming it on Jeremy, mostly due to his 'inexperience with life' because sixteen minutes apparently made all the difference. And when his mother started seeing through the plan, he had an ingenious little way of pretending to be his brother. Jim would always get out of it anyway, and it wouldn't be until at least ten years later that Lady Moriarty even realised.
Alternatively, his older brother's would favour him over Jim as he was 'the little one'. They could see that Jim had no innocence from the day Lady Moriarty had brought him home. Jensen and Jared were eight years older than him and his brother, with Jensen also being exactly sixteen minutes older. The age gap didn't seem to matter though and Jeremy had hoped it would be the same with him and Jim... That hope had failed him years ago. He had always looked up to Jared and Jensen, they seemed to be able to make it through anything...
In later years, Jensen had become power happy and shut most people out, valuing his status and the standard of the criminal network over family and friends, but their brotherly love had come flooding back all too late when Elton fired that gun...
André loaded the toaster in the same fashion someone would load a machine gun
"Oh yes, délicieux!!"
Shaking his magnificent butt in time with the music as he did so. With a click of fingers his cupboard opened, mechanically pushing out a rack holding several white shirts and pairs of tight black leather trousers. He snatched some constricting legwear and started to slip it on so elegantly.
"Jeremy?"
"Mmph?"
The young Moriarty partially rolled over, his hair messed yet flat in strange places and eyes full of yearning for another hours' sleep. He smirked as he spotted the frenchman rolling the tight fabric over his perfectly toned arse.
"Je espère que vous ne serez pas occupé ce soir, l'amour" 'I hope you won't be busy tonight love'