Zafkiel sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes blearily, wondering what had woken him. Then he saw the half-open bathroom door, and the steam wafting out. He strained to listen, and sure enough, Mikael's voice floated out along with the steam.

Zafkiel smiled to himself, and crept out of bed. He made his way across to the bathroom and leaned against the wall next to the door. He never really openly admitted to Mikael just how much he loved the thick, throaty, almost caramelly sound of his singing voice, but the truth was that he adored listening to Mikael sing and took every opportunity to do so.

He tried to focus his attention on the lyrics floating out, but he did not recognise the song, and the splashing water made Mikael more difficult to hear. Mikael seemed to be singing a short refrain, and most of the lyrics made a certain amount of sense, but the last line was confusing him.

"Shape of my wounds?" he mumbled to himself, and continued to listen. After a moment, he shook his head.

"No, shape of my bones..." He nodded, decisively; either way it seemed reasonably appropriate for the sort of thing Mikael would normally be singing. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, enjoying listening to Mikael's voice. But a moment later, his eyes popped open again in surprise.

"Sheep of my womb?!" He was starting to feel a little disconcerted by these lyrics. He was sure he wasn't hearing it right, and yet...

He shook his head and leaned closer to the door, waiting to hear it again. But the next hearing only made him more confused.

"Shaven by wolves?" He put his hands to his forehead, trying to think. "No, that can't be right!" What had Mikael been singing? He had to figure it out!

Suddenly, he realised that Mikael had stopped singing and the water had stopped running. He straightened up; if Mikael came out now it would be a mite awkward, him standing right where he was.

He took a step away from the door. He heard the squeak of the doorhinges behind him, and turned around guiltily. Mikael was standing in the doorway; his body was still beaded with water, a towel slung indecently low on his waist, and his long, wine-coloured hair clung in wet strands to his back, his shoulders and arms, and in a few places to his cheeks. Zafkiel gawped. Sometimes he wondered how Mikael always managed to look so good even first thing in the morning. Other times he didn't care, he was too busy just enjoying it. Right now, he was enjoying it.

Mikael wiped impatiently at some of the hairs stuck to his face.

"I thought I heard you muttering out here."

Zafkiel blushed. He hadn't realised he'd been voicing his thoughts.

"I.. was just wondering what you were singing."

Mikael raised an eyebrow, and pursed his lips slightly.

"I was singing about you."

Zafkiel had a sudden overwhelmingly vivid mental image of himself tied to a stake, being shaven by a gleeful pack of wolves. He bit down hard on his cheek to stop himself from laughing. Mikael did not look in the mood for laughter. His eyes were glittering now; obviously some of Zafkiel's amusement was still coming through.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, when he dared speak. "I think I misheard the lyrics..."

Mikael stared at him for a long moment, and then abruptly his lips quirked upwards at one end in a sudden, unexpected smirk.

"I don't even want to know. But if you come here, I'll sing it nice and close, where you can hear it clearly."

Zafkiel decided that it was far too early to care if his pyjamas got wet.