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There is a hand softly brushing through his hair; Kevin shifts sleepily, tries to stretch out on his back before realizing that he is on the couch and there is simply not enough room for him to stretch his legs out properly. He brushes a hand over his face, rubs at his eyes before opening them. “What time is it?”
Connor’s eyebrows are doing the disapproving thing, slightly raised, but with just enough of a twist to almost seem like a frown too. It’s a look that he had perfected as a district leader back in Uganda, years ago, and apparently he still finds it useful from time to time. “Almost four p.m. Did you sleep here the whole day?”
“...I guess.” He slowly sits up, running a hand through his hair and yeah, sleeping almost eight hours on the couch is a pretty bad idea after a twelve-hour night shift. His knees and back are aching; jeez, he is only twenty-seven, too. “I was just going to eat breakfast.” He looks at the half-eaten bagel on the coffee table mournfully, now dry and unappetizing. “Must have fallen asleep.”
“You’d get better rest if you slept in bed,” Connor chastises, noticing the plate as well and picking it up, taking the few steps needed in their tiny apartment to get over to the kitchen area and sink. “Was it a good shift, at least?”
“I guess.” As good as a twelve-hour night shift can be, honestly. Rather uneventful, routine rounds, more time with the patients and still plenty of time to study for his upcoming exams. Kevin stretches his legs out, making a face as he is reminded of how gross it feels to sleep in jeans. He watches Connor dispose of the remains of his breakfast before coming back to join him on the couch. He stretches out his legs towards him. “Foot massage?”
Connor wrinkles his nose at him. “You haven’t showered yet, have you?” At Kevin’s shrug, he rolls his eyes. “You should start wearing compression stockings. Most nurses do, right?”
Kevin makes a face right back at him. “I’m not eighty. Or a nurse. Yet.”
“Suit yourself.” Connor’s haughty expression melts into a tiny smile. “It’s lonely to sleep in our bed without you.”
Kevin shifts until he is leaning against Connor’s side. He may not be completely awake yet and besides, it is so disorienting to wake up in the living room like this. “And yet you always complain about my snoring.”
“I’m used to your snoring now. It’s the sleep-talking I can’t stand.”
“I don’t sleep-talk,” Kevin mutters to the room at large, even though he knows that it is true, especially whenever he is approaching his exams. But hey, it’s his way of processing information. Connor’s shoulder shakes in what is probably a snicker at his expense. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“I don’t know.” Connor pokes his knee. “It’s your night to cook.”
“Pizza?” Kevin suggests hopefully, swatting Connor’s hand away.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute when you’re tired.” Connor catches his hand and holds onto it while he shifts against Kevin, turning so that he can curl his legs up under himself.
“I kind of am, aren’t I?” Kevin responds drowsily, pleased, then winces when Connor pinches his thigh. “Jeez.”
“You’re not falling asleep again, are you?”
“Not at all.” Except maybe he had been. It’s not his fault that Connor’s shoulder is strangely comfortable, for what is usually such a bony body-part, or that Connor smells so familiar and good, or that the blanket around his shoulders is so pleasantly warm. And Connor doesn’t say anything else, so Kevin closes his eyes, just for a moment.