Lancelot squinted, unsure if he'd ever get used to the bright sunshine in Auguste. Even the sunniest mornings in Feendrache had nothing on what was streaming in the window of their rental beach-house. He'd propped himself up on one arm but quickly dropped back down. It wasn't that mornings were a problem; he was awake!

"Brighter than expected," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

"Morning already?" Beside him, Percival stirred and shifted. They'd gotten in late, due to a storm at the last island they'd had a brief layover on, and surely nobody would complain about anybody else sleeping in.

"Incredibly so," Lancelot replied before rolling over to meet Percival's bleary gaze. They'd not traveled together up until the last leg of the trip, which had then been lively and long and-

They had not gotten to catch up until they had closed the door of the small bedroom Lancelot had chosen. And then they'd caught up. At least for one night.

"We should get up and see about breakfast," Percival said after a long moment and tangling one hand in Lancelot's hair.

"We should," Lancelot echoed. Neither one of them moved to get out of bed. Instead, Percival pulled Lancelot closer and Lancelot closed his eyes again. Morning and breakfast were forgotten in the wake of Percival's mouth on his.

The sun kept shining.

They had catching up to do.