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It's quiet when Nick gets back from his run. Very quiet. Normally Nick would probably tramp indoors, stripping his wet things, and complaining loudly about how Portland rains every time he's furthest from any form of shelter, but there's something about this quiet. Casting an eye at the long love seat that is directly in front of the big picture window, Nick very quietly strips off his dripping hooded jacket, his sneakers, and socks which are now squelching. His tee is drenched too. He discards it.
He glances down at himself. The sweats have to go. He pulls them off. Left in his damp boxers he slinks forward very, very quietly. The back of the love seat conceals everything from view, so Nick is going to have to get right up close.
A challenge.
Nick smiles to himself.
He reaches his destination.
It's pretty much exactly as he hoped it would be.
Sean's asleep.
There is the vaguest hint of drool on the pillow on which his head is resting, the blanket has mostly slipped to the floor, the corner caught under Sean's hip. Sean's white tee has ridden up, giving Nick a delicious, uninterrupted view of Sean's spectacular abs, and the cut of his hips disappearing under the waistband of his grey shorts. One hand rests on his bare stomach, the other disappears beneath the pillow. His long, lean-muscled legs stretched out, the right ankle wrapped in a shocking pink cast. Nick grins a little. Okay, it isn't really funny, Sean broke his ankle, it's the how and where he broke his ankle that is sort of, well... kind of hilarious.
Sean had taken Diana to the park, and being the kind of father he was, when she demanded the pink football, Sean had, naturally, bought it for her. So she wanted to play with it in the park. The grass was wet, because hello, Portland!, and Sean's footwear not really up to the task, he'd slipped going in to kick the ball, and kicked the ground instead, falling heavily as his foot jammed in an unseen tree root.
Diana called Nick with Daddy's phone. Nick arrived at a run, having called for a bus, and arrived practically at the same time as the ambulance, to find Sean half-sitting, half-lying on the ground as white as a sheet, and his ankle at a strange, and entirely non-ankle sort of angle that made Nick quietly want to throw up. He followed the ambulance to hospital, Diana having gone with her father, to discover that some time during the journey, Sean had solemnly agreed that if his ankle wound up in a cast, Diana could choose the colour.
Nick was fairly certain that shocking pink had never entered Sean's head.
Sean's toes protruded coyly from the cast, and Nick was more than a little relieved to see that they were starting to return to their more normal pinkish colour, and the swelling was starting to go down a bit.
He slips around the end of the couch, and sits on the pouffe that's next to the table. Overcome with a sudden rush of tenderness, he strokes his lover's cheek, the one that turns zauber.
So intent is he, he doesn't immediately notice that sleepy green eyes are staring at him through a narrow veil of lashes.
"Hey." Nick smiles. "How are you feeling, now?"
Sean's smile is soft and Nick is lost in the wonderment of how this awkward, difficult and sometimes dangerous creature actually chose him. "Tired." Sean admits.
"Move over," Nick gathers up the blanket as Sean slides back a little, it will be a tight squeeze, but neither of them minds that.
They arrange themselves carefully, despite the height difference, Sean rests against Nick, head against Nick's shoulder.
Nick stares out of the window at the wind and rain, as Sean falls back to sleep, safe in Nick's arms