Work Text:
It was Elliot’s last cigarette. He knew he should get up and go outside to buy more because the withdrawal symptoms would show up soon enough. But the couch was too comfortable. Which was ironic, considering he found it in the street. Darlene helped him carrying it inside, and she spent the whole time insulting ‘filthy rich fuckers throwing away stuff in perfect condition’.
He looked at his left. There was no sunlight coming in from the window. It was late. He would go tomorrow. Probably.
He took one last drag and as he was crushing the butt in the ashtray next to him, he heard steps in the hallway. One of Shayla’s friends, most likely.
His front door suddenly opened, Tyrell emerging in his flat. He saw Elliot's dumbstruck face and closed the door behind him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
He really should remember to lock the door.
Elliot sank down further on his couch, not ready to face what the hell was… this. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Tyrell didn’t answer right away and Elliot could observe him entirely from his spot. He was still in the entrance, a pinkish glow on his cheeks and disheveled hair. He was breathing hard as if he had just run. What struck Elliot the most was his half undone tie and jacket. It wasn’t common coming from him. But what a view.
Tyrell was also staring at Elliot the whole time, none of them moving. He just seemed to realize what he had done and was trying to figure out if it was a good idea or if he should just flee.
After a few more seconds, Tyrell finally calmed down and cleared his throat. "Hi," he simply said.
Elliot raised a brow, perplexed. "That doesn’t answer my question."
Tyrell looked away, suddenly finding the table near the door very interesting. He brushed his suit, trying to regain his composure. "I… had a long day at work. I couldn’t think of any other place to go."
"You could have at least knocked."
"It was open."
"That doesn’t excuse it. What if I was naked?"
Tyrell smirked and looked back at Elliot, a spark in his eyes. "I wouldn’t have minded."
Elliot let out a sigh as he was trying to repress the warm wave inside his chest. That smirk could end him, he knew it. Especially with this face.
"Elliot?"
He seemed to wake up from a dream. Tyrell looked at him, puzzled. How long was he out, staring at his face?
"Yeah?"
Tyrell took a hesitant step towards him, before leaning awkwardly against the table. He bit his lower lip. He should stop doing that.
"Can I stay here tonight?"
It was Elliot’s turn to move. He sat up straight. "What?"
"Please. I know— I know we only spent the night together twice. And it wasn’t here. I just—," he hesitated. "I just sleep better when you’re with me. And I really need it."
Elliot wondered if he had exploded. He must have because he was feeling too hot. Way too hot.
"Please," Tyrell repeated.
He couldn't fight his tone.
"Ok."
He was going to faint. The bright smile on Tyrell’s face didn’t help.
"I’ll go take a shower," Elliot simply said. A cold one.
He didn’t wait for Tyrell to answer.
When he got out of the bathroom, still damped, he found an undressed Tyrell sitting on the bed. His bed.
"Hi."
"Hi."
Elliot paused. It was stupid. They did that before. Why was his heart beating so fast? Maybe that was because they had never actually spent a real night in bed. They were only lying together after sex and were just too exhausted to move. Sex wasn’t even planned in the first place. This time, Tyrell actually wanted to lie in bed with him.
"I fed Qwerty," Tyrell said.
Fuck, he fed the fucking fish was all Elliot could think. "Thank you," he answered instead.
A pause.
"Are you coming?"
Elliot swallowed hard. Why did he sound so eager? "Yeah."
He turned off the lights and slipped under the sheets and Tyrell mirrored him.
Once in position, Tyrell didn’t wait long before clutching Elliot and resting his head against his chest. He let out a heavy sigh as if he was finally able to breathe normally. Elliot didn’t mind the pressure against him, the smell of Tyrell’s hair, the soft skin of his hand on his stomach.
You’re lying to yourself. You fucking enjoy it.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep like this. Too many things were going on in his mind and body.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked Tyrell in a quiet voice.
The man stopped caressing his chest. When had he started?
"Talk about what?"
"Work. What happened?"
He felt Tyrell tense up. "I’ve been fired."
"Oh." He didn’t know what to say. "I’m sorry."
Tyrell let out a bitter laugh. "It doesn’t matter anymore."
"I wish I could help."
He moved a bit so he could look at Elliot’s face. "Would you sing for me?"
Elliot frowned. "I can’t sing."
This time, Tyrell’s laugh was light and too adorable. "I heard you. In the shower. You definitely can sing."
"I—" Had he really sung? He didn’t pay attention. All his thoughts were about Tyrell.
"What you were singing?"
"I don’t know. A random song from the radio."
"It was lovely. Will you sing it again?"
"I— I’m not sure…"
Tyrell leaned on his hands to put himself over Elliot before placing a kiss on his jaw. "Please," he whispered in his ear. He chastely kissed his mouth. "Please, Elliot."
Tyrell Wellick begging was a thing he couldn’t fight. Really not.
"Ok."
Tyrell repositioned himself as he was before, smiling against his chest.
What were the lines again? "‘With your feet in the air and your head on the ground’"
His voice was low and rough. It probably sounded awful.
"‘Try this trick and spin it, your head will collapse’"
Tyrell clutched him tighter.
"‘But there's nothing in it, and you'll ask yourself’"
Why was he feeling water on his chest?
"‘Where is my mind?’"
Why was Tyrell shaking?
"‘Where is my mind?’"
Why was Tyrell sobbing?
"‘Where is my mind?’"
Tyrell was holding Elliot so tight he could barely breathe. He didn’t mind.
He really didn’t.
He kept singing. He couldn’t remember the next lines so he was just making up sounds along with the music.
Near the end of the song, Tyrell finally released the pressure around him. Elliot looked down. He had fallen asleep, his breathing steady. He raised his hand, gently brushed his hair, wiping away his tears, trying to not wake him up.
"Where is my mind, Tyrell?" he softly asked. "What did you with it?"
The words died in the flat without an answer.
He didn’t need one.
He fell asleep shortly after.