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It’s well into the middle of the night when Roger falls out of a dream and into his hazy reality, the light of his alarm clock the only thing illuminating his room. He stirs in bed and is gently reminded of his surroundings.
Chuck is face down, fast asleep next to him with an arm wrapped around Roger’s torso. Joe is spending the night at Joyce’s, he recalls after noting the empty bed to his left.
Roger lets out a content sigh, moving the hands he had rested above his head to hold his lover back. One hand rests on Chuck’s back and the other calmly strokes the arm draped across his chest. Maybe, it's just Roger’s imagination, or maybe Chuck pulls him a little closer in a subconscious response.
Roger has to admit he loves a sleeping Chuck. He loves seeing the unguarded, unintentional side of him. Chuck’s not the type of person to have different sides, in getting to know him Roger learned this. He learned how unapologetically himself Chuck could be and often was, there was never a distinct change in personality in the man surrounded by people in a crowded cafeteria and on a one on one study date in Roger’s room.
Sleeping Chuck is different though, somehow. It’s as though he’s no longer an accomplished, reputable, collegiate rower, an olympic gold medalist. It’s as if he’s just a boy, taking a midday nap after a long morning of playing outside.
Chuck face down, out like a light is simply also a sight that draws a smirk from Roger.
Another thing that appeases him is that even in his sleep Chuck is loving Roger, without a thought to his surely obstructed oxygen intake from sleeping with his face to the mattress, Chuck still keeps an arm around Roger like he’s scared he’ll disappear if he lets go. The arm in question makes Roger wonder if he’d be able to remove himself if he tried, of course not that he’d ever want to.
In conclusion to this inner monologue, Roger decides to place a gentle kiss to the side of Chuck’s head, deep in his sleep-messed hair because who’s going to stop him from kissing his boyfriend, in his own bed, in the middle of the night?
This action slightly rouses the other man and he lets out a quiet, barely conscious “Hmm?” He does so while turning his head slightly as if to meet Roger’s gaze but his eyes do not open.
“Nothing baby, I just love you,” Roger smiles as he says it and plants a second kiss on Chuck's newly available forehead.
In processing the statement, Chuck’s eyebrows press together and his forehead crinkles. Eyes still closed, he mumbles, “Well that's not nothing,” as if utterly perplexed by Roger’s words. “I love you too… and that’s like, everything for me.” He adds, just as sleepily as the beginning of his sentence. Chuck pulls Roger closer and settles himself into a more comfortable position on his side, wriggling his free arm to rest his head on it.
To Roger, his lover’s words hit like the wave that catches you off guard at the beach when you’re a kid, the one that sweeps you off your feet and tumbles your goggles off. That’s right, he remembers. Love isn’t nothing, it’s never been anything close to it for Roger. Since meeting Chuck, it’s actually been everything. God, he thinks, Roger is so in love. He’s so far gone he’s sure nothing could pull him out, not everything. Because Chuck is everything.
Roger smiles to himself, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I love you, and it’s everything.”
…
“Chuck?”
After several seconds of no response, Roger strains his neck to get a look at his boyfriend’s face who is without a doubt, out cold. His brown hair falling over his forehead, lips parted slightly. Calm, even breaths entering and exiting him.
Roger can’t help but laugh a little as he rests his head back down. Of course, leave it to Chuck to casually rock Roger’s world in 30 seconds with 10 words and fall back asleep like it’s nothing. Yep, Roger is a lost cause.