Note: This was my first fic for The Following, written for my friend last year. Warnings for twincest, though not like overpoweringly. This was just to see if I could write the Murder Twins. Enjoy!

Mark comes awake slowly. First, he can hear. The chirping of birds, the wind against the outer stone walls, his brother breathing nearby. Next, he feels the light on his face, sees it almost through his eyelids. It's uncomfortable. He's not ready to get up. He moves to roll over, to hide his face from the light. But a heavy weight is keeping him still. He panics. His heart races and his eyes snap open to see what's holding him down.

Luke.

Mark's eyes lock onto Luke's bare shoulder. His brother is lying across his torso, his head beside his on the pile of pillows Mark insists on resting his head on. Luke must have rolled onto him during the night and didn't bother to move. Which is just brilliant, because Luke isn't an early riser.

But Mark is.

He lifts his head, poking his brother hard in the ribs. "Luke. Luke, get up."

Luke groans softly and shifts, turning his face toward Mark's. He doesn't wake. Mark growls, his brows drawing together as he stares at the copy of his face, peaceful and obnoxious. Luke's usually carefully slicked-back hair is loose and falling into his face in a different way than Mark's does. Mark would fix it if he wasn't pinned down. It's always strange to see Luke lose control of anything he takes great care in setting up. Especially when it has to do with the man himself. Mark looks back to the ceiling and take a deep breath before shoving his shoulder up into Luke's chest. He jolts and grunts, finally awake.

"Mark, go back to sleep," he mumbles, shifting his head closer to nuzzle behind Mark's ear. "It's early."

Mark tries not to shiver with his brother lying on top of him where he could feel every move. "Yes, brother. It's early, and I have things to do."

"Do them later."

"I'd rather do them now. Get it over with."

Luke chuckles into his ear. "So you can spend your free time with Emma?"

Mark says nothing. He controls his breathing and stares at the ceiling. Luke is infuriating. Jealous and bitter and obnoxious and lying on top of him to keep him from doing anything. Luke chuckles again, snuggling in and pressing his lips to the side of Mark's neck.

"Stay in bed just a while longer. Snooze with me. It'll be so much better than your idiotic, self-inflicted chores. Mother won't mind."

Mark huffs and lets his head fall back into the pillows. He isn't going to win. He rarely does. He doesn't want to give in, but he can't help but agree with Luke either. He leans up and kisses Luke's shoulder, reaching down to pull the blanket up higher around them to ward off the chill.

"All right. Another hour or so, maybe."

He feels Luke smile against his skin. "Maybe."

Mark lets himself drift off to the same sounds he woke to, but more to the close sound of Luke's breathing. It's warm and comfortable. Another hour won't be so bad.