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Charles could tell from the gentle lapping of his thoughts that Erik was already asleep by the time he finally finished inputting the last midterm grade and powered off his laptop in the den. It was by no means the first time Erik had stayed over, but it was still early days yet, and Charles couldn’t help the little flutter of anticipation that brought a smile twitching to the corner of his mouth as he rolled down the short hallway into the bedroom, stopping up short to drink in the sight of his boyfriend in all his completely unconscious, long-loose-limbed glory.
Erik was wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, as per usual, even though it was nearly November, and most people had already started wearing coats and scarves to battle the creeping cold. But Erik was a natural furnace – one that tended to get overheated even on the coldest nights – and he had already kicked Charles’ top sheet and comforter down to mid-calf in his sleep. Charles’ smile softened as he paused in the doorway just a moment longer before wheeling silently into the room.
He got ready for bed as quietly as possible; brushing his teeth, and changing into sweatpants and his worn-out old Oxford chess club t-shirt in the adjoining bathroom so he wouldn’t have to turn on the corner lamp and risk waking Erik. Clicking off the bathroom switch, he wheeled over to the bed in the half-light filtering in through the blinds, and transferred onto the mattress in relative silence. Erik didn’t even stir.
Smiling gently, Charles adjusted himself so his back was to Erik, cautiously slinging the sleeping man’s arm over his own waist. Erik seemed to instinctively notice Charles’ presence, snuggling closer and spooning against him without a disruption in his gently arcing brainwaves.
With a contented sigh, Charles sunk back against Erik and the pillows, breathing in and out slowly and deeply, allowing the day’s pressure from grading to slowly drift away. He was almost completely out when he heard Erik’s voice.
“Hey,” he said quietly, lifting the hand on Charles’ hip up to pet his hair. “Hey.”
A small frown creased in between Charles’ eyebrows. He must have been reading Erik wrong somehow to think he was still asleep. “Hey,” Charles replied in a whisper. “Sorry if I-”
“Hey, you’ve got a tea-towel on your head.”
“What?”
“You’ve got a…” Erik trailed off, still petting. Then, as abruptly as he’d started, he stopped, curling Charles in tighter, and nuzzling his nose into the back of his neck. “Tea-towel. On your head.”
For a moment, Charles paused, blinking, and still slightly confused from being half-awoken. Then he realized he hadn’t been reading Erik wrong after all. His breath was still even, tickling at the nape of Charles’ neck, REM cycle spiking softly behind his flickering eyelids.
Charles stifled a snort, trying to keep his body from shaking with contained laughter. So apparently Erik was a sleep talker. Well, Charles decided as he bit his lip and willed himself to calm down, there were worse fates.