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It was the night before Christmas eve and David couldn't sleep.
It was nothing new. His insomnia used to be really bad few years back, the weird limbo he had been in between getting released from army and before meeting Diarmuid. He had paced around his tiny bleak one room flat, or had stared the infomercials through the night. Sometimes he had walked around the town, sat in the service stations which were open 24/7, drinking bitter coffee and stared the flashing lights of the cars passing by.
Now he laid in the bed he shared with Diarmuid, who was currently nestled next to him, snoring. It was dark in the room and David could just make out Diarmuid's shape, but feeling his weight and warm against him, hearing the noises he made, that was enough to calm David's mind. He slept so much better these days when he had Diarmuid draped all over him. Even the snoring – which Ciaran had said was unnatural sound to come out from someone small as Diarmuid – had it's own charm and before they had officially moved together David had not been able to fall asleep the rare nights they spent apart and he could not hear the sound.
Sleep did come much easier to him these days indeed, especially after making love and being spent and content, being able to hold and be held by the love of his life. Some nights they were so tired afterwards that they just fell asleep where they flopped, sticky and sweaty. Some nights, like tonight, they had enough energy to get themselves cleaned up, David putting on some pajama pants and Diarmuid had slipped one of David's T-shirts on. David had been very relaxed and happy, but while Diarmuid drifted to sleep David found it was going to be one of those nights when he couldn't join him.
He moved slowly and carefully, not to wake up Diarmuid when he slip out of the bed. Diarmuid left out a huff, but just burrowed himself deeper under the blanket, seeking the warmth David had left behind.
David quietly snuck out of their bedroom into their living space, and pushed the door close to block out any sound and light he put on. Moving in with Diarmuid was a massive upgrade from David's previous flat, but the apartment was still small. They had small bedroom which had just enough space for their bed, the closet and the drawer for their clothes, a decent sized bathroom and one main room which had little kitchen on one wall and what they called living room on the other end of the room. David loved every inch of it, and how homely and cozy it was. Where ever he looked he could see Diarmuid's touch and efforts to make the place feel more like theirs.
There were few dirty cups spread around their flat – it seemed like Diarmuid constantly forgot he already had one drink going on and left half drank cups of tea, coffee or other type of beverages on top of the self's, on the table or kitchen counters, sometimes even in the bathroom. David quietly moved around the room and picked up three cups which Diarmuid had used during the day. He wanted to wash them so they would be clean for Diarmuid the next day, but he worried the noise would wake him up so David just left them in the sink to wait for the morning. He arranged the spices and other dry ingredients Diarmuid had used for their dinner to their right places. He filled the tiny watering can hanging on a hook next to the sink and watered the houseplants Diarmuid kept collecting. Just the other week he had come home, a tiny hanging plant wrapped in newspaper to prevent it from freezing and David had hung another hanging basket on the curtain rail for it. As he was now watering it David's mind leaped into one particular day early in their relationship, the second time Diarmuid visited David's place. When he had come to spend the night there the first time David had seen the place through Diarmuid's eyes, how plain and cold it had looked compared to Diarmuid's colorful room. But Diarmuid had just smiled and made himself at home, and the next time he came over he had brought a houseplant with him as a gift. It had been small and sturdy, tree like fellow, and David had googled the name of the species -rubber plant – and how best to take care of it. The very next day he had gone to buy fertilizers and misting bottle, and he had been following the plant's growth like a nervous parent. Now the same plant took half of their windowsill, tripled in it's original size and growing many new branches after David's careful cutting process.
David moved around the apartment and did what little chores he could find and which didn't make too much noise. He fluffed the mismatched cushions on the couch, he gave the counter tops and the table a wipe, he arranged their shoes to fit better in the rack, he gave their bathroom mirror a good clean until there were no specks of toothpaste on sight. On their coffee table there was few gifts they hadn't wrapped up yet, so David tried his best with that. His results weren't as neat as Diarmuid's, but the history book he had got for Ciaran looked decent at least. Then he got thinking how Ciaran would be appalled learning that David had wrapped his present middle of the night, wearing nothing but worn out pajama pants. He quickly stuffed the present in a bag which Diarmuid had started to fill out to take with them when they'd leave to spend the holidays at Ciaran's place.
When he couldn't come with anything else to do he debated with opening a TV to see if there was anything to catch his interest, but decided against it. It felt too much of a reminder of his life before Diarmuid, and maybe if he just went back to bed instead he might actually drift to sleep. While he went to turn out the light his eyes fell on the picture collection Diarmuid had put up on the wall next to their front door, above the tiny shelf where they kept their keys. There were several pictures of them together, selfies Diarmuid had insisted on taking during their day trips or dates, and even one where they were just cuddled up on their sofa. Seeing them always made David smile and his heart beat a little faster. Diarmuid taking the time and effort to print them out and arrange them there to be seen every time either of them left the flat – David couldn't guess what exact sentiment had made him do it, but for David it worked as a reminder of what he would be coming back to after days work was done.
He made his way to the bedroom as silently as he could, but Diarmuid still stirred when he was getting back into bed.
”Dvid” his voice was soft and slurred from the sleep when he made more room for David to get in before snuggling back to his side. ”You okay?”
”Yeah” David kissed his curls. ”Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
Diarmuid sighed. He was aware David occasionally had trouble sleeping, and David knew that in the morning he would be getting a extra strong coffee and a extra long hug. But for now Diarmuid just hugged his arm across David's body and mumbled ”Love you” against his chest before his breathing turned heavy again.
”Love you too.” David whispered, when Diarmuid's breathing turned to snores. Sleep didn't come, but David didn't mind.