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Tim's Morning (1185 words) by 
OxfordTweed
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Spaced
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Tim Bisley, Daisy Steiner, Mike Watt
Summary: Tim does not borrow Daisy's clothes, and he does not borrow her nail polish.
According to the digital clock on the night stand, it was close to noon when Tim Bisley stumbled from his bedroom and into the kitchen, holding a change of clothes. Yawning widely, he decided right then that under no circumstances would he ever touch another alcoholic beverage until after sundown. He dropped his clothes onto the kitchen table as he practically fell into one of the cheap chairs, sliding it against the vinyl flooring slightly. Knowing he wouldn't need to wait long, he didn't even consider opening the ice box for something that might resemble breakfast.
This was routine, and he'd grown to like it very much.
Barely two minutes after Tim first left the comfort of his bed, the bathroom door opened as his flatmate Daisy stepped into the kitchen.
"S'all yours, Tim," She said, fluffing her hair with a towel. "Hung over?"
"Yes," Tim mumbled as he shuffled into the loo.
"Right," Daisy continued, chipper as ever. "I'm going out for a bit. You need anything from the shop that isn't porn?"
"No." Tim shut the door behind himself, in no mood for conversation.
Before he even started running the tap, he heard the front door open and close again. As the water ran, he considered for a brief moment running the shower, but instead decided that he didn't want to stand up any longer than necessary. He reached for the rubber stop and plugged the drain, testing the water with his hand to make sure it wasn't too hot. Satisfied with the temperature, he righted himself to pull off his T-shirt, knocking something off a shelf with a loud thump! He tossed his shirt onto the floor and bent to pick up the container he'd dropped. Lilac and lavender scented bath bubbles, according to the label. Curious, Tim unscrewed the top and took a sniff before reading the back label. "Pour a generous amount under running tap."
Shrugging to himself, Tim did just that, startled at how quickly the suds activated. He recapped the bottle and replaced it on the shelf before slipping out of his sweats and stepping into the bath. The hot water certainly seemed to be helping clear his head, although Tim was completely open to the possibility that the bath bubbles were aiding in that fact.
As the water continued to run, Tim reached over to the small stand Daisy had set next to the bath. There was a set of candles arranged neatly, accompanied by a cheap lighter. He picked it up and lit the candles, noticing at once that they were also scented. There were no labels this time to tell him what they were supposed to smell like, though. Vanilla, maybe? Either way, it was easy to see why girls were so into all this girlie shit. It definitely had a relaxing quality to it all.
Tim turned off the water and leaned back into the suds that had built up around him, the heat and scents making him want to fall asleep all over again. He propped his arm up on the edge of the bath, again knocking something to the ground. Slowly, he sat back up to fetch whatever had fallen this time -- a bottle of bright blue nail enamel. "Aquamarine," according to the helpful little label. Checking to make sure no one was home -- as though he could see through the closed bathroom door -- Tim quickly shook the small bottle before unscrewing the top. Definitely smelled like enamel; which was nothing like the way everything else seemed to work. Tim propped one of his feet up onto the tap and leaned forward, dipping the acrylic brush into the bottle a few times. Carefully brushing off the excess onto the rim, he slowly applied the paint to his toenail, having long since forgotten how unevenly the stuff tended to spread. The lives of women the world over would be so much easier if the bottles could just affix to air brush nozzles. But then, special friskets would need to be produced, and they'd need to come in dozens upon dozens of sizes, which would probably only complicate matters further.
Tim worked quickly, finishing up and moving to his other foot within just a few minutes. Not wanting to let the water mess up his work, he rested his heels on the edge of the bath when he finished, capping and replacing the bottle back on the stand as he heard the front door open.
"Tim?" Mike's voice called from the kitchen. "Timmy?" He heard Mike walk toward the bedrooms, opening a door -- most likely Tim's -- only to shut it a few seconds later. "Oy! Tim!"
As Mike returned to the kitchen, Tim panicked. Plugging his nose, he submerged himself totally under the suds and water that filled the bath as the door opened.
"Oh, sorry, Daisy!" Mike said quickly, shutting the door again.
Tim waited a few moments before coming back up for air. He heard the Play Station being turned on, realizing at once that he was in a very sticky situation. Maybe he could just wait Mike out until -- nope. Tony Hawk. Mike wasn't going anywhere for a long time. Grimacing, he sat up and pulled the plug on the drain and climbed awkwardly out of the bath. As quietly as he could manage, he grabbed his towel from the rack and dried off, taking extra care to make sure his hair didn't look wet. The suds from the bath were everywhere, making getting rid of the evidence incredibly difficult. Once certain that he had rid himself of incriminating suds, he quickly dressed, eternally thankful that he had remembered to grab a pair of socks.
Tim quickly blew out the candles before taking a deep breath and he cracking the door, finding his friend completely engrossed in the video game. A quick glance to the front door provided all the cover Tim needed in the form of a pair of his shoes. He slowly opened the bathroom door just enough to slip into the kitchen, shutting it again as close to silently as he could manage. Luckily, Mike had the volume on the television almost up full, drowning out any noise Tim might have made. He silently crept over to the front door, quickly opening and slamming it shut as he made like he was taking off his shoes.
"Hey!" he said, acting surprised to see his friend sitting on the bean bag. "Mike!"
Mike looked over his shoulder just long enough to make eye contact. "Where ya been, Timmy?" he asked.
"Oh, ya know," Tim said as he made his way to the television, falling next to Mike on the bean bag. "Out."
"I see." Tim picked up the second controller, as Mike quit his game to start a two-player story. "You smell nice," Mike said casually as he debated between Chad Muska and the title character.
"What?" Tim asked as he picked a character at random.
"Nothing," Mike responded quickly as a door behind them opened.
"Oh, hey, Mike," Daisy said happily.
"Afternoon, Daisy," Mike replied. "Enjoy your bath?"
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Spaced
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Tim Bisley, Daisy Steiner, Mike Watt
Summary: Tim does not borrow Daisy's clothes, and he does not borrow her nail polish.
According to the digital clock on the night stand, it was close to noon when Tim Bisley stumbled from his bedroom and into the kitchen, holding a change of clothes. Yawning widely, he decided right then that under no circumstances would he ever touch another alcoholic beverage until after sundown. He dropped his clothes onto the kitchen table as he practically fell into one of the cheap chairs, sliding it against the vinyl flooring slightly. Knowing he wouldn't need to wait long, he didn't even consider opening the ice box for something that might resemble breakfast.
This was routine, and he'd grown to like it very much.
Barely two minutes after Tim first left the comfort of his bed, the bathroom door opened as his flatmate Daisy stepped into the kitchen.
"S'all yours, Tim," She said, fluffing her hair with a towel. "Hung over?"
"Yes," Tim mumbled as he shuffled into the loo.
"Right," Daisy continued, chipper as ever. "I'm going out for a bit. You need anything from the shop that isn't porn?"
"No." Tim shut the door behind himself, in no mood for conversation.
Before he even started running the tap, he heard the front door open and close again. As the water ran, he considered for a brief moment running the shower, but instead decided that he didn't want to stand up any longer than necessary. He reached for the rubber stop and plugged the drain, testing the water with his hand to make sure it wasn't too hot. Satisfied with the temperature, he righted himself to pull off his T-shirt, knocking something off a shelf with a loud thump! He tossed his shirt onto the floor and bent to pick up the container he'd dropped. Lilac and lavender scented bath bubbles, according to the label. Curious, Tim unscrewed the top and took a sniff before reading the back label. "Pour a generous amount under running tap."
Shrugging to himself, Tim did just that, startled at how quickly the suds activated. He recapped the bottle and replaced it on the shelf before slipping out of his sweats and stepping into the bath. The hot water certainly seemed to be helping clear his head, although Tim was completely open to the possibility that the bath bubbles were aiding in that fact.
As the water continued to run, Tim reached over to the small stand Daisy had set next to the bath. There was a set of candles arranged neatly, accompanied by a cheap lighter. He picked it up and lit the candles, noticing at once that they were also scented. There were no labels this time to tell him what they were supposed to smell like, though. Vanilla, maybe? Either way, it was easy to see why girls were so into all this girlie shit. It definitely had a relaxing quality to it all.
Tim turned off the water and leaned back into the suds that had built up around him, the heat and scents making him want to fall asleep all over again. He propped his arm up on the edge of the bath, again knocking something to the ground. Slowly, he sat back up to fetch whatever had fallen this time -- a bottle of bright blue nail enamel. "Aquamarine," according to the helpful little label. Checking to make sure no one was home -- as though he could see through the closed bathroom door -- Tim quickly shook the small bottle before unscrewing the top. Definitely smelled like enamel; which was nothing like the way everything else seemed to work. Tim propped one of his feet up onto the tap and leaned forward, dipping the acrylic brush into the bottle a few times. Carefully brushing off the excess onto the rim, he slowly applied the paint to his toenail, having long since forgotten how unevenly the stuff tended to spread. The lives of women the world over would be so much easier if the bottles could just affix to air brush nozzles. But then, special friskets would need to be produced, and they'd need to come in dozens upon dozens of sizes, which would probably only complicate matters further.
Tim worked quickly, finishing up and moving to his other foot within just a few minutes. Not wanting to let the water mess up his work, he rested his heels on the edge of the bath when he finished, capping and replacing the bottle back on the stand as he heard the front door open.
"Tim?" Mike's voice called from the kitchen. "Timmy?" He heard Mike walk toward the bedrooms, opening a door -- most likely Tim's -- only to shut it a few seconds later. "Oy! Tim!"
As Mike returned to the kitchen, Tim panicked. Plugging his nose, he submerged himself totally under the suds and water that filled the bath as the door opened.
"Oh, sorry, Daisy!" Mike said quickly, shutting the door again.
Tim waited a few moments before coming back up for air. He heard the Play Station being turned on, realizing at once that he was in a very sticky situation. Maybe he could just wait Mike out until -- nope. Tony Hawk. Mike wasn't going anywhere for a long time. Grimacing, he sat up and pulled the plug on the drain and climbed awkwardly out of the bath. As quietly as he could manage, he grabbed his towel from the rack and dried off, taking extra care to make sure his hair didn't look wet. The suds from the bath were everywhere, making getting rid of the evidence incredibly difficult. Once certain that he had rid himself of incriminating suds, he quickly dressed, eternally thankful that he had remembered to grab a pair of socks.
Tim quickly blew out the candles before taking a deep breath and he cracking the door, finding his friend completely engrossed in the video game. A quick glance to the front door provided all the cover Tim needed in the form of a pair of his shoes. He slowly opened the bathroom door just enough to slip into the kitchen, shutting it again as close to silently as he could manage. Luckily, Mike had the volume on the television almost up full, drowning out any noise Tim might have made. He silently crept over to the front door, quickly opening and slamming it shut as he made like he was taking off his shoes.
"Hey!" he said, acting surprised to see his friend sitting on the bean bag. "Mike!"
Mike looked over his shoulder just long enough to make eye contact. "Where ya been, Timmy?" he asked.
"Oh, ya know," Tim said as he made his way to the television, falling next to Mike on the bean bag. "Out."
"I see." Tim picked up the second controller, as Mike quit his game to start a two-player story. "You smell nice," Mike said casually as he debated between Chad Muska and the title character.
"What?" Tim asked as he picked a character at random.
"Nothing," Mike responded quickly as a door behind them opened.
"Oh, hey, Mike," Daisy said happily.
"Afternoon, Daisy," Mike replied. "Enjoy your bath?"
