The headline in the newspaper stand out bold and proud - bundled up in Sabo´s hand - across the table.

And not even the sheepish smile he recieves diminish the damage it shouts out at him.

Marco literally feel the upcoming headache creep up on him, waiting to embrace him with the madness (and chaos) that springs up around his fellow blonds heels.

And in combination with the surprising new ways, he himself, bring forth new waves? Whether its waves of destruction, healing, of peace and/or chaos—often at the same time (irony at its finest).

He told their missing troublesome brat they´d be fine alone a few days and not experience any hardship with how peaceful and quiet it has been, he should have known better than to jinx himself.

Marco believed it could not blow up in his face to have a few days alone with his blond, while Ace was gone, on his errands.

Marco can only hope he has not yet seen the paper and what is sure to follow, with such an inspiring title. And laugh himself sick, or have a narcolepsy attack brought on by the surprising news.

Sabos´ chaos is more often then not, entwined and brough to the forefront with the energy of Ace. So this is a surprising turn of events, without his usual accomplice involved at all. And Ace´s chaos is the burning flame to strike the matches and bring a a wild storm of flames upon you. Mesmerizing in its path, while warning of the danger. His fire will consume you, and lure you closer to the warmth while wanting more.

The barely covered Sabo fidget in the silence, nervous, and trying to mask it.

Since he is now the one running the underground network, and he swore to be careful and not to get into trouble, when he recieved it. Or become interesting to the public (other than to those in the know of and those invited).

This? This is so far from unnoticed, even Marco have a hard time deciding on a proper response to the breaking news.

It doesnt help Sabo has not dressed himself, and Marco himself only has shorts on. Which leaves his tattoo on full display to the enjoyment of his, now in trouble, brat.

Only the sheet from the bed is wrapped around Sabo´s own waist, and they called it good to go for a late indoors breakfast, before the newspaper put a halt to it.

Sabo regret the descision to forgo clothes deeply. The more time passes the more he will blush and squirm hoping beyond hope, that he will not show just what it does to him, that Marco has the unreadable face focused at him.

And considering the news? Any reaction is a welcome distraction—before he cannot stop himself, and imagine what reaction this will bring-and shit, he did not mean to think of it. Marco as usual, pounce on the opening he left for him.

"Oh? Is it hard to breath Sabo, hitching your breath like that?", purring out his response, "Cat got your tounge? And such a lovely red colour you have acquired—is there something you´d like to tell me?" with half-lidded eyes utterly focused on the reactions he gives as Sabo look away and shakes his head in lieu of a proper answer. "No? Then shall I coax the information from you?", and the way Sabo freeze in realization of what will happen next, is deeply satisfying. As is the rapidly spreading blush, all over his ears, face and chest when he process the words uttered. Marco breathes in, and centers himself, anticipation rising.