Work Text:
Flying was no great joy of Erik's.
He tapped away at his keyboard, trying to get lost in yet another round of presentation edits. The plane lurched again to the startled shrieks of the passengers around him. His laptop, precariously perched on his crossed legs instead of the tiny fold out tray table that only seemed to shrink each year, made a wild gambit for freedom — wrenching itself from his grasp and diving for the center aisle. Erik instinctively reached out with his mutation, pulling the metal embedded throughout the device back into his waiting hand.
The screen flickered once in protest of its rough treatment.
Damn it all. Letting it hit the ground might have been the better option. If he shifted the wires in his laptop again just before the conference even began…
Children began to cry as the plane rocked and rolled in the turbulent night air. Erik grit his teeth and scrubbed quickly at his eyes. They ached something terrible, and the building pressure at his temples wasn't promising either. He briefly debated the merits of powering through the rest of his edits. There were only five slides left...
No.
Even if Erik could keep going — which he could, that's what eye drops and acetaminophen were for — he ultimately decided it wasn't worth the extended risk to his laptop. Sure, he had his slides backed up on a flash drive, but the conference was three days long, and he'd planned to get some other work done. Research grants wouldn't just write themselves, no matter how much Erik wished that were true. With great reluctance, he packed it up and stored it under the seat in front of him.
"This is your Captain speaking," a gravelly voice intoned over the staticy speaker system, "We've had some rough air and anticipate a couple more bumps over the next fifteen minutes before we begin our descent. At this time we’re going to ask that everyone return to their seats and put their seatbelts on. The flight attendants will be making their way through the cabin, so…"
Erik flicked his wrist to activate his watch face, letting the Captain's voice fade to a dull background drone. It was just after nine pm, but that was from the previous time zone, so… Erik did some quick mental math and only barely suppressed a groan. They wouldn't be landing until a quarter to midnight local time — half an hour later than expected.
And he still had to brave baggage claim.
And pick up his rental car.
And drive to the hotel.
Resigned to nearly another hour trapped in this flying sardine tin, Erik did his best to get comfortable.
Which of course meant that they hit more turbulence just as the person in the window seat was passing their partially empty drink for the flight attendant to throw away. Partially empty because his blue button up now had a cold, brown stain spreading from his right nipple down past his navel. Erik did his best to remain cordial, but he would be lying if he said he didn't consider throwing himself out the emergency exit and hoping he could somehow utilize his mutation to make it to the ground safely.
He fucking hated flying.
—x—
“There aren’t any single rooms available, either?” The woman in front of him gripped her oversized coffee like a lifeline. “You don’t have any vacancies.”
Erik shifted his weight and readjusted his grip on his carry on. He would probably feel bad for the woman if she hadn’t already asked thirteen different variations of this question — like she could unlock a different answer if she chose just the right combination of words. Like she hadn’t heard the desk clerk inform the previous two people of the exact same thing. As it was, Erik stifled a sigh and checked his phone for his emailed verification again, and — yeah, nothing had changed from the last five minutes. He had a reservation here at least.
If he ever got to the front desk to check in.
“I’m afraid not, Ma’am.” Though clearly regretful, the desk attendant’s answer didn’t waver. “We’re completely booked for several conferences through the weekend.”
The woman had no answer for that — just stared blankly as the news sunk in. He watched as the fight finally drained from her. Defeat visibly weighed on her shoulders.
“Do you know of any other hotels with vacancies?” she asked, terse tone giving way to deep exhaustion.
Relatable.
“Yes.” The staff member exploded into a flurry of motion, like he’d been waiting for her to ask this question. He gathered brochures and maps from behind the counter, quickly circling a couple of items before sliding them forward. “Our sister site has vacancies, and I can book you a room from here, but they’re a forty minute drive from here. However, the closest establishment that had openings tonight as of fifteen minutes ago is a thirty minute drive up the highway” — he tapped one of the brochures — “and their number is listed here.”
After a beat of silence, the woman gathered the brochures and thanked the attendant. It wasn’t until the automatic doors closed behind her that Erik was gestured up to the counter.
“Sorry about the wait. How can I help you?” The desk attendant’s smile did a poor job of hiding his wariness as Erik approached. Poor sod had probably been dealing with upset customers all night.
“I have a reservation for Lehnsherr,” he said, following that up with a rapid spelling of his last name.
“Oh, of course!” The attendant’s whole demeanor flipped the moment Erik said the magic word. He tapped away at the computer, verifying Erik’s last name once more before nodding at the screen. “I’ll just need to see an ID and the card you used to make the reservation.”
He immediately placed both on the counter, having pulled them from his wallet some time ago.
The rest of the exchange was blessedly short. In no time at all, Erik was making his way from the elevator to his room. The halls were empty at this time of night — the only sound being the quiet whir of his suitcase wheels against the garish, red carpet. He had to juggle his newly acquired informational brochure and conference badge to slide his room key into the door, but the light flashed green the moment he did.
Erik released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as the door swung open.
Finally. About time something went right this trip.
The light switch wasn’t next to the door, so Erik didn’t bother looking for it. With the open curtains letting the moonlight filter in, there was just enough light to navigate the space without stumbling into walls and furniture. He pushed his suitcase off to the side and made his way through the shadowed doorway on his left. This switch was beside the door frame, though so was the switch for the bathroom fan and the individual shower light and a random one that controlled nothing as far as he could tell, so Erik had to fuck with the toggles for far longer than was comfortable with a full bladder.
After relieving himself, it became quickly apparent that the wiring wasn't the only problematic thing about the bathroom. The bar of soap had been used recently, a filmy residue adhering it where it had been abandoned next to its wrapper in the center of the counter. That was annoying. Worse still was the fact that the hanging hand towel was still wet.
Erik's lip curled in disgust. He glared heavily at the offending terrycloth, too tired to do anything but select a dry one from the open faced cabinet below.
He shambled through his nightly routine purely by muscle memory. His stained shirt was discarded unceremoniously on the bathroom tile, followed quickly by his slacks. He didn't even entertain the thought of a shower. A (new) wet towel worked well enough to remove the worst of the sticky soda and general airport grime. The rest could be dealt with in the morning.
Fighting a yawn that threatened to split the corners of his mouth, Erik dragged his hand over the light switch before exiting the bathroom. His eyes were only half-open as he blearlily made his way to the outline of the bed centered in the room.
It was rumpled — its comforter not quite tucked and pillows askew. Just further evidence the swamped hotel staff hadn’t had the time to clean the room after its last occupant. He should ... probably care more about that. Complain to someone. Maybe if he'd slept at all in the last twenty hours he would, but Erik couldn't be fussed about an unmade bed when it made it so much easier to slide underneath the covers. It's not like the sheets were covered in crumbs or anything more distasteful. They felt clean. Smelled clean, too — like fabricated fresh air with an underlying woody scent that had him burrowing his nose deeper into the blankets.
Good enough for the night.
The tension of the long day mercifully melted away as Erik sunk fully into the mattress. Sleep reached its sinuous tendrils into his overwrought mind the moment it hit the pillow, dragging his concerns down, down, down under a heavy quilt of nothingness. He surrendered gladly.
Filing a complaint could wait ‘til morning.
—x—
Erik's alarm didn't wake him.
That wasn't so surprising, actually, seeing as he hadn't set one. With the opening speech for the conference scheduled late in the afternoon, and a body that gave up on sleep the moment the first sunray touched his eyelids, Erik felt confident relying on his biological clock to kickstart his day.
Except the sun didn't wake him, either.
No, that honor belonged to the string of expletives shouted directly into his ear.
Erik jerked to consciousness so fast his neck cracked in protest. His hand automatically shot to it, massaging the tender flesh. Adrenaline forced his eyes open, and his sleep fogged brain fought valiantly to make sense in the scene in front of him.
Another man stared down at him, black sleep mask raised to reveal piercing blue eyes widened in undisguised horror, from the other side of the bed. The bed that they were sharing.
Together.
He reeled back into the same half-sitting position the stranger was in. The comforter pooled around his hips, leaving his chest bare to the morning light and him feeling strangely vulnerable. Erik fought the urge to gather the blanket to his chest. It didn’t matter that the stranger was wearing a pajama shirt, he was allowed to sleep however he chose in the comfort of his own room, which reminded him…
"When the bloody fuck did you get here?!"
"When did — when did I get here?” The stranger sputtered indignantly. “I've been here the whole time! I went to bed alone! When did you get here?"
Several puzzle pieces from last night — the open soap, the wet towel, the rumpled bed — suddenly slotted into place. What looked like evidence of an overworked cleaning staff had actually been proof of another human being actively inhabiting the room. He had no idea how he'd failed to put the clues together.
"I got in —” Erik swiveled around, looking for a clock, and scrubbed wearily at his eyes when there wasn’t one in his line of sight. “—late,” he admitted instead. Admitting he hadn’t noticed a whole second person under the covers when he crawled in was far more embarrassing, however, so he deflected, “How did you not hear me walk in?”
“I take sleeping aides when I travel! How did you not see me!—or at least my bags?”
“I didn’t turn on the light!”
Silence fell after the last exclamation. They regarded each other quietly, each making their own piece with the series of sitcom-esque events that led to this moment. He didn’t blame the man for their situation, although that would undoubtedly be easier, since he was equally to blame. So instead of righteous fury Erik was left with more of an exasperated annoyance. He didn’t want to deal with this. He didn’t want to deal with the hotel management, which they would undoubtedly have to do. He wanted to shove his head under his pillow and go back to sleep until this whole situation was resolved. It didn’t help that the adrenaline that jolted him to awareness had all but faded, leaving Erik with thoughts that were disjointed and slow — swaddled in the cotton sensation of sleep deprivation. He felt shaky. He had no clue what time it was, but the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, so the answer was definitely too fucking early.
The stranger seemed to be having similar thoughts. He heaved a weary sigh, dragging long, pianist fingers through wavy chestnut locks, and — oh. Oh. Maybe he’d been hasty in thinking the sun didn’t wake him up, because the man in front of him shone in the early morning light.
Erik’s view of the window was blocked from this angle, but he could still see the sunrise in the way it reflected off the man’s glossy hair, calling attention to the blondes and reds and a thousand shades of brown he couldn’t possibly hope to put names to. It was unfair, really. This man just woke up, and he somehow managed to look like a shining example of some late baroque masterpiece. His entire outline was bathed in a soft orangish glow that Erik could only describe as angelic even if he didn’t believe in such things.
He was shaken from his thoughts when the man cleared his throat. He wasn’t meeting Erik’s eyes anymore, and he looked somehow more uncomfortable than he had waking up to a stranger in his bed. It only took a second for Erik to realize that he’d been staring, possibly with his mouth agape like an absolute creep, and he quickly averted his gaze.
“So we should go see the front desk to get this straightened out,” he offered, looking anywhere but the stranger. “With any luck they’ll assign one of us a new keycard, and we can get out of each other’s hair.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Except —” The man twisted in place to grab his phone from the bedside table and winced at whatever he found on the screen. “Look, I — this is bad timing, but I have to give a presentation in a little less than two hours, and I’d rather deal with all of this afterwards, if you’re not in a hurry.”
He was not about to turn down a chance to grab more sleep before facing this day. “I’m guessing you’re not part of the robotics conference?”
“Robotics…?” The stranger frowned. Under his breath, he muttered, “I didn’t realize there were other conferences taking place here.” To Erik, he said, “No, philosophy. You’re a programmer, then?”
“Metallurgical engineer,” Erik corrected. It was a common misconception. People tended to associate robots with the code that made them go instead of the materials that made it possible. Then, because it seemed weird to know each other's fields and not their names, he extended his hand. “Erik Lehnsherr.”
For an oddly terrifying moment, Erik was convinced the stranger was going to ignore him. He stared at his proffered hand with a strangely intense look before his lips twitched into a smile. His eyes were crinkled in amusement when he finally met Erik’s gaze once more. Possibly he was struck by how ridiculous it was to be shaking hands with the stranger he found in his hotel bed, but he gripped his hand firmly nonetheless.
“Charles Xavier.”
“Well, Charles.” Erik paused as the insanity of this morning caught up with him. He chuckled and Charles joined in, all bright eyes and boyish charm. “This morning has been…exciting, to say the least, but if we’re not going downstairs now, I’d prefer to try and sleep a bit more.”
“Oh, yes, you did say you got in late, didn’t you?” But apparently Charles didn’t need an answer, because he was up and moving about the room, grabbing clothes and other items. “I’m just going to hop in for a quick shower, and then I’ll be out of the room, okay?”
“That’s fine.” Erik fluffed the pillow he’d been using before giving into the urge that’d been tempting him all morning. He collapsed back into the bed and rolled pointedly away from the window. “Don’t worry about making noise — the only thing that bothers me is the light.”
He wasn’t sure Charles even heard him, having already disappeared into the bathroom. Despite their brief acquaintance, or perhaps as testament to how exhausted he truly was, Erik fell asleep remarkably easily. Later, he couldn’t recall if he’d even maintained consciousness long enough to hear the shower turn on. He definitely wasn’t awake when Charles slipped out of the bathroom.
When he woke once more, the curtains had been carefully closed so that not even a sliver of light could sneak through.
—x—
A couple hours of sleep and a shower transformed Erik into a completely new person.
He and Charles hadn't specified where they were going to meet, so Erik made his way to the lobby through the sprawling hotel. There were three buildings attached with covered breezeways, he soon found out, and each of the different buildings was hosting a separate conference in its extravagant meeting rooms. Though their room was in the central building — the one with the two themed restaurants and underground spa — the "Ethics in Uncertain Times" conference was in one of the offshoots. Armed with a charged laptop and phone, Erik secured a plush lobby armchair with the best view of both breezeways to wait.
As it turned out, any concerns he'd miss Charles' arrival were completely unfounded.
The increased activity caught his eye first. The lobby became progressively busier as people spilled from the left breezeway in twos and threes. Then came the buzzing murmurs of a large number of people trying to speak quietly. None of the conversations were individually distinguishable, but the sheer volume of whispers threatened to overtake the calming orchestral music the lobby had selected.
A scale that was tipped as Charles finally excited the breezeway.
He was surrounded by no less than five people — all wearing baby blue lanyards — vying for his attention as he made his way deeper into the lobby. Erik was struck by the easy confidence with which split his confidence between them, his gentle smile never once wavering. He raised a considering eyebrow at the gaggle's progress. Admittedly, he didn't find Charles' career in one of the soft sciences terribly impressive — the rivalry between the hard and soft sciences would always run deep — but these people were more than enamored to make up for it. The presentation must have gone well.
When it looked like Charles would be unable to extricate himself alone, Eric gathered his belongings and approached the group. His roommate glanced his way before promptly doing a double take that did wonders for Erik's ego. He thought he cut a nice picture in his grey suit, and it was nice to get the external validation.
"Excuse me, I have something else to attend to, but please reach out to me with any questions," Erik was close enough to hear Charles say. He passed out business cards before making his escape leaving everyone staring after him like starstruck fools.
He arched his eyebrow. "Talk went well, I take it?"
"You could say that," Charles agreed, a crooked grin on his face that was somehow modest. "Now, shall we go figure this out?"
"Lead the way."
Although the lobby was crowded, very few people were checking in, so it didn't take long for them to be waved up to the front desk.
"Hello, we're here because there seems to have been a small mistake," Charles began.
Erik smothered a snort — unsuccessfully if the quelling look Charles shot him meant anything. This qualified as more than a small mistake in his book.
"We were both given cards coded for the same room," he continued, pulling his hotel brochure and room key from inside his jacket. Erik followed suit, letting the attendant see the way '316' had been scrawled across both papers. "Would you be able to help us get this straightened out?"
The attendant was not, in fact, able to help them get this figured out. It took three different people digging through records and tapping on keyboards for them to find an answer.
"It looks like Mr. Xavier was mistakenly issued a key for the room upon his arrival," the hotel's manager explained, eyes glued to the computer in front of him. "When Mr. Lensherr arrived, he was issued a key to the correct room. We have it on record that both Mr. Lensherr and his 'guest'" — he made air quotes here to signify the hotel's misunderstanding — "have been issued keys to room 316."
"Oh, well that's fine, I can move my stuff," Charles said easily. "Can you assign me the key to my actual room, then?"
The hotel manager winced, and Erik suddenly felt uneasy.
"I'm afraid that when you missed your check-in, you were mistakenly recorded as a no-show," he explained. "Due to the high volume of guests, your room was turned over to the first waitlisted guest this morning."
"Waitlisted," Charles echoed, clearly picking up on what the manager was reluctant to say. "So you don't have any other rooms?" The manager shook his head. "Not even a single twin?"
Having seen this avenue explored fruitlessly before, Erik finally spoke up.
"What about a roll away?"
Charles' head whipped towards him, but Erik kept his gaze focused on the hotel manager. He didn't know what possessed him to ask, and he didn’t want to try and explain himself with an audience, but the question was already out there.
"Uhmm, let me—" More typing ensued. "There's nothing showing as available, but I think I know of a spare. If you'll excuse me, I'll run back and check."
"A roll away?" Charles asked the moment he disappeared. "Are you certain you'll be okay rooming with a stranger?"
"We survived last night just fine." He wasn't certain, not at all, but it was too late to back out now, so instead he continued, "I've shared hostels with weirder people, and you seem decent enough so far. The closest hotel with vacancies is thirty minutes out which makes popping in and out of talks a hassle." A thought occurred to Erik. "Unless you'd rather have your own room, of course. I have a presentation first thing tomorrow, so I would rather not be thirty minutes away, but if you don't mind the drive, feel free."
"I— no, you're right," Charles cut off whatever protest he'd been about to make. "If you're sure, I would appreciate it."
They didn't have a chance to talk any further. The attendant appeared around the corner with a folded roll out bed with a squeaky wheel. Erik had a sneaking suspicion he knew why the bed wasn't registered as an option, but there was no use complaining when there were literally no other options.
Charles hurried forward to grab the bed and offered to take it to their room. The manager protested, but Charles insisted he needed to head back to the room anyway, so Erik watched his new roommate walk away with vague assurances they'd see each other tonight.
A promise that was both benign and utterly, entirely, nerve-wracking.
—x—
Conflicting schedules kept the two men apart for the rest of the day. Erik went back to the room exactly once, but Charles wasn't there — though the newly acquired double bed was tucked away against the floor to ceiling windows. He was so busy taking notes and meeting with people in his field that he hardly spared a thought for his roommate until he was walking back from dinner. The meal had taken longer than expected — dinner during these events was more about networking than actual substatenance — so it was just after nine when he finally made it back to the room.
Charles was there when he opened the door, curled up in the single armchair with what looked like a stack of papers and a red pen.
Erik shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it up before reclining on the sofa across from him. "Grading papers?"
"Got it in one." Charles finished marking the paper he was working on then sat the stack aside. "Did you have a good day?"
The question was incredibly domestic, and the blush on Charles' face suggested he might wish to take it back, so Erik took pity on him.
"It was good," he agreed. "Long, but interesting. I've made a few contacts that I'm looking forward to following up with. You?"
"Same. There were a couple intriguing interpretations on the morality of freedom of speech."
"So is that what philosophy conferences are mostly about? Debates on morality of an assortment of topics?" Erik was aware his phrasing was slightly aggressive, but he wasn't ready to discuss who was getting the queen bed, and he wasn't above picking a fight to delay the issue.
Charles raised his eyebrows, clearly picking up on Erik's argumentative tone, but settled back into his chair before answering.
"Morality has always been a key component of philosophy," he agreed, calmly, "But that's not the only topic, no. Often philosophers debate how established theories fit into the modern world — or if they have a place there at all."
This was sounding more and more like a high brow book club, but Erik knew better than to say that aloud. Instead he asked, "Do you have an example?"
He did.
He also had answers for all of Erik's follow up questions and seemed completely content to spend the evening explaining his profession to someone who hadn't so much as taken a class in the field. Hours flew by to the gentle cadence of their exchanges.
That's not to say they always agreed. In fact they disagreed, fervently, on — well, on several different fronts, actually, but perhaps nothing quite as passionate as their opposing viewpoints of the innate morality of man. Charles, the optimistic sunflower of a human being, had somehow glided through thirty-two years of life on this Earth with the opinion that mankind was inherently good. Erik, of course, had actually seen enough of humanity to know that Thomas Hobbes had the right of it.
People were trash. Full stop.
Still, arguing philosophy with a person who'd made a career of the subject was not a recipe for success. No, Erik was secure enough to admit that he was barely keeping up on this particular intellectual battleground. There seemed to be no end to the literature Charles could quote in his defense. It was frustrating. Almost humiliating, really. The man was particularly talented at deconstructing and individually dismantling Erik's arguments until he had no legs on which to stand his objections. By all rights Erik should have thrown in the towel hours ago, and yet —
He didn't want to stop.
Matching wits with Charles was... invigorating. He'd have been fine spending many more hours in conversation with this man, but his smart watch finally buzzed around eleven to remind him that he needed to head to bed soon to get a full night's sleep.
He winced at the reminder, but Charles' face was understanding when he looked up. He surprised him further by insisting on taking the double bed. Erik was a good six inches taller than him, he'd protested. And anyway, Erik needed the best sleep he could get if he wanted to be his best for his presentation the next morning.
Admittedly, Erik was too grateful to offer anything but token protests.
Soon, the hotel room was dark. Charles didn't mind sleeping with the sliding glass door open to their balcony, so the sound of the waves crashing onto the cliff below filled the room. Erik found himself relaxing the rhythmic sounds, the gentle breathing of the other man in the room, and he could feel sleep creeping over him.
Until the cacophonous screech of metal interrupted the gentle atmosphere, at least.
Erik bolted upright. His fingers fumbled over the bedside table until successfully flicked on the lamp. The light illuminated Charles’ struggle to extricate himself from the bed that had collapsed inward at the center like a venus flytrap. The support trusses were clearly broken, jagged metal swaying with every movement. Thankfully, the rusted bits had snapped away from Charles’ person otherwise a tetanus shot might have been required.
“I think I know why this bed was sequestered in the back,” Charles said dryly, finally pulling himself from the wreckage. He propped his hands on his hips and studied the warped before turning to Erik. “Well, if I promise to stick to my side of the bed, would you mind terribly if I shared it with you again tonight? It’s just a little late to make the trek to another hotel.”
And Eric could probably fix the bed with his mutation, enough to be serviceable for the night, at least, but he found himself agreeing and scooting over to make room for Charles. What was the point in throwing a fit, really? Allowances could be made to ensure they both faced their academic endeavors well-rested.
They’d managed last night just fine. No need to make a big deal out of it.
Which, of course, was his brain’s cue to blow everything out of proportion.
Happening upon each other through a series of random occurrences hadn’t bothered him, honestly, but actively choosing to spend the night together was quickly fraying his nerves. Who agreed to spend the night with a near stranger? Aside from those after anonymous sex, anyway. The thought made him pause.
This was platonic, right?
Already primed from an evening spent debating the nuances of even the most mundane aspects of life, Erik immediately dug through each of their interactions in search of some sort of explanation. Picking apart the meanings of each action and gesture and tone and trying to shape them into some cohesive whole.
He curled on his side, facing determinedly away from Charles. The call of the ocean was no longer enough to lure him to sleep when he could feel the warmth of the other man burning into his back. Every sound of shifting fabric felt amplified. He fought the urge to move around and find a more comfortable position. More than likely laying on his opposite side wouldn’t ease his discomfort, and, perhaps more importantly, he was afraid of how he might react to the sight of Charles’ sleep slack face and--oh. Oh that wasn’t a platonic thought, now, was it?
Acknowledging his growing attraction to the man he’d come to know was one thing, but facing his feelings for the man currently sharing his bedsheets was another thing entirely. How in the world was he going to get through tonight?
On the other side of the bed Charles was similarly still, and Erik wasn’t sure if he was struggling the same as he was or if he’d actually fallen asleep. He did mention taking sleeping aides when he traveled…
As if in direct response to his thoughts, he heard Charles roll over. He metered his breath, trying to seem as sleep-like as possible, and was stunned when an arm placed itself over the curve of his waist.
Did Charles think he was asleep?
“I can hear you overthinking things from here,” he joked, quickly disabusing him of that notion. “Try and get some sleep, yeah?”
“Brilliant advice,” he shot back, but he could feel the tension bleeding away regardless. He broke the statuesque stillness he’d been holding and allowed himself to resituate. Charles’ arm didn’t move, and he didn’t try to get out of his hold.
And Erik didn’t let himself overthink the action any more than that. Neither of them was uncomfortable. Tonight he’d allow himself to enjoy the intimacy of this moment without digging for answers.
Without the awkward tension in the air, Erik’s mind finally started to shut down. He soaked in the woodsy scent of the man behind him — enjoyed the mint huffed onto the back of his neck with every breath. Sleep wrapped him as tightly in its grasp as Charles did now, and it wasn’t long until he was lost to the blissful blankness of sleep.
With the best night’s sleep of his life behind him, he absolutely nailed the presentation the following morning.