Dennis was supposed to be looking after the twins, but fuck it if looking after infant twins wasn't the hardest task he'd ever been given in his entire life. Merlin, how did his girlfriend do it? Seriously? How did she look after these two on her own when he went off to do shoots? She was a goddess. A saint. He would need to praise and worship her as soon as she got home because he had only been on his own for a few hours and he had already nodded off. The twins were in their cribs taking a nap and Dennis was slouched over the table sleeping except (...) this wasn't a table.
It was the thump that woke him, shooting up in his bed only to smack his head against the bottom of the top bunk. Swearing loudly, Dennis hissed in pain and cradled his head in his hands, muttering 'fuck' under his breath as he tried to figure out where he was and how he had gotten here. It was when he heard the scream that he actually blinked his eyes open to look around.
He ... knew this room, but it was like something from a long forgotten dream. It came back to him in a rush, causing his head to spin and his breath to catch because there, on the floor, was his brother. Colin. With the same curly hair as he remembered only much, much younger.
"Colin?" Dennis gasped, flinging himself on the floor beside his brother. Where had he come from? What was wrong? Casting a quick glance around the room, he noted the toppled bookshelf and frowned. "Colin, are you okay? What's wrong? Were you climbing the book shelf?" he probed, pushing his curly hair off his forehead in what he hoped was a comforting manner.