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“When’s the last time you slept?”
“I’m not tired.”
“Not what I asked.”
“Okay, but—Alright, just—Look—I just finished up that last article finally, so now I just need to get the rest of this essay done and then I can finally start working on the final project for the other—”
“Still not what I asked.”
A sigh, slumped shoulders, tired puppydog eyes so exhausted that the dark circles beneath them almost look like they could have been drawn on with sharpie. “...Don’t be mad…?”
“How many days?”
“......Three. I think.”
Another sigh, exasperated this time, as he carefully navigates the minefield of crushed soda cans and snack wrappers that surround the small desk. “Coffee and energy drinks aren’t a replacement for sleep, idiot. I of all people would know that.” He rests a hand on the back of the chair, voice noticeably softening over the next words. “You’re gonna end up fucking killing yourself like this, you know.”
A dangerous shine rises in those puppydog eyes, and they quickly turn away from the concerned gaze once more, back to the too-bright computer screen that casts a sharp blue-white tint through the otherwise-darkness of the room. His voice is small, defeated, when he eventually mutters back a begrudging, “...I know…” Gentle fingers encircle his wrists, easing reluctant hands back from the keyboard and deftly saving each of the many documents open on the screen before closing the laptop decisively. The room plunges into darkness around them, and his legs feel like jelly as he’s helped to an unsteady stand. It takes a moment to register that he’s being led toward the door instead of his bed, and confusion furrows his brow as he innocently questions, “Nate?”
“If you haven’t slept in three whole days then I don’t even wanna know how fucking long it’s been since you last showered,” comes the arid response, and Warren winces as the bathroom lights sting his over-sensitive eyes. “Strip,” Nathan commands in the same matter-of-fact voice, tone firm but not overly-forceful, as he finally releases his hold on Warren’s wrists to begin fiddling with the temperamental taps of the shower. Once the hot water finally starts to actually combat the cold, he turns back to see Warren still standing exactly how he’d left him, looking more than a little dazed and even swaying slightly on his feet. Christ, he hasn’t been this bad in a while… “Alright, c’mere…”
Nathan keeps a steadying hand at his boyfriend's back as he helps him sluggishly struggle out of his clothes, unceremoniously leaving them wherever they land in messy heaps on the tiled floor. Warren slumps tiredly against the wall as Nathan makes quick work of his own clothing, kicking the pile into the corner of the room for later as his hands find Warren’s once again to carefully guide him under the spray of water. A luxurious sigh is the only warning before Warren's body goes almost completely limp, leaning his entire weight against Nathan’s chest as the steaming water cascades over his shoulders and down his back, and if he thought he felt like jelly before… He feels as much as hears the small chuckle that rumbles somewhere deep in Nathan’s chest, followed by a murmur that’s probably an affectionate insult of some kind, but his ears don’t quite manage to catch it over the white noise of water droplets hitting the tiles all around them.
They stay like that for a while, simply enjoying the pleasant warmth for a long few moments before Nathan’s fingers find their way up to card through Warren’s hair, murmuring more soft affirmations against his temple as he gently eases their bodies a couple of inches apart. Warren can’t keep the pout from instinctively rising to his lips at the loss of contact, but only a few seconds pass before Nathan’s hands are back on him, lathering up his hair with shampoo and even going as far as gently massaging along his scalp, so the quiet hum in his throat changes tune from disappointed to appreciative real quick. A quick rinse beneath the spray until the water runs suds-free again, and then those same hands are gracing the rest of his body as well, tracing soap across every inch of skin as Nathan’s lips pepper soft kisses over his cheeks, his jaw, his closed eyelids.
And then all too soon it’s already over, the water shutting off without any real warning and making Warren struggle to open incredibly-heavy eyelids that might as well be glued shut at this point. He doesn’t get far before he finds himself wrapped up in a towel equally as out-of-the-blue, blinking in confusion as everything around him seems so fast all of a sudden—and shit does he already miss that hot water—and wobbles dangerously as Nathan goes to town with towel-drying his hair, squawking indignantly in the closest thing to words he’s made since they entered the bathroom. Sea-green eyes glimmer at him with unmasked amusement when he finally manages to escape his towel-imprisonment, and Warren can only hope that Nathan can still tell he’s glaring at him even when his eyes will barely stay open.
Regardless, Nathan takes pity on him and leads him back to the quiet-dark of the bedroom once they’ve been adequately dried off, dressing them both in a pair of their own pajama bottoms before finally, finally, allowing them to slip beneath the sheets of their bed. Warren immediately snuggles in as close as physically possible, tangling their legs together messily and nuzzling into his favorite spot between his boyfriend’s neck and shoulder—the one where Nathan’s pulse point rests just below his softly-smiling lips. He presses a soft kiss to the skin there as Nathan’s hand finds his hair once again, and he barely has enough time to murmur those Three Little Words before the long-abated tide of sleep finally claims him.
He’ll just have to thank him properly in the morning.