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Summary
Written in response to this prompt: "We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair."
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He awakes when the cabin lights turn on again, their pale glow simulating sunrise. It’s a slow surfacing, jumbled and confused, marked by the feel of a heavy arm across his chest. He turns to see Rafa’s face inches away, still asleep, frowning slightly against the light. Again the thought comes to Roger that he should move, that he shouldn’t be so relaxed here in such close proximity, but though he waits for the feeling to come, it doesn’t. He realises he feels perfectly happy here under the heavy weight of Rafa’s arm, feeling his breath against the sleeve of his t-shirt. He keeps watching as Rafa’s frown deepens and his eyes flicker open. He is bleary and mussed, still cloudy with sleep. “Rogi,” he murmurs, and Roger expects him to draw away, maybe embarrassed, maybe shocked.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he curls closer in, groaning sleepily against the rising light, and buries his face against Roger’s neck. He’s pressed along his side now, all the way down, sinking once more into dreams, sinking against him. One knee bent across Roger’s leg. Roger can almost pinpoint the moment when something kindles in his chest, as if a long-smouldering coal has had life breathed into it and leapt into flame. He squirms an arm free and wraps it around Rafa, holding him close. He can feel Rafa’s cheek against his own, the graze of his stubble. The heat of his breath against his skin.