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Feinberg tumbled through the portal into their shared home at 2 a.m. on an average Tuesday.
Couriway, as his roommate, was sleeping at the time; unfortunately, he chose to fall asleep on the couch while watching TV earlier, and didn't bother to switch the light on. Feinberg, on the other hand, apparently decided to directly throw himself at the couch after a long day of draftout.
“WHAT THE—”
“OH MY FUCKING—”
And that’s why Couriway was standing in front of the fridge in the middle of the night, his hair messy from sleep and feathers messy from the earlier fright. I might have deserved this, thought Couriway while finding Feinberg something to drink. Should’ve seen this coming the day I became roommates with this guy.
He shot a look that was supposed to be grudgeful to Feinberg, who, already recovered from the short-lived guilt of nearly crushing Couriway's legs by slumping on them, was lying on the couch with his limbs spread. He still had the same pink-and-blue outfit from the run, obviously too tired to change; yet his face was glowing with a mild smile, implying he’d had another fun day elo farming in draftout. Although Couriway frowned a little at the sight of Feinberg’s pants, littered with grass leaves and end dust, directly sitting on the used-to-be-clean couch, he can’t help enjoying the view of the electric blue eyes softened behind the pink visor, and the small curve on the corner of his best friend’s mouth.
He found a can of soda for his friend and went back to sit with him. Feinberg didn’t move a single bit to make room, and Couriway was definitely not to try moving the taller man’s body with his light bones built for flying. He passed the soda and sat down on the edge anyway, and two things simultaneously occurred when Feinberg’s knees were pressed against Couriway’s hip.
Couriway’s heart skipped a beat, and Feinberg said, “Thanks. I wish I can get him to take my visor off. ”
Now, Couriway was not unfamiliar with the heart thing. He can feel it whenever Feinberg grins smugly at him, Feinberg's electric blue eyes meets his, or Feinberg whispers too closely to his ear. He was aware of his hopeless crush on his best friend slash roommate long ago, and he was proud to say that he's getting used to it. It's Feinberg’s abrupt, illogical sentence that surprised him, especially when he doubt that Feinberg's lips moved after the word “thanks”.
“What did you say? ”
“Uh, thanks?”replied a very confused Feinberg, half sarcastically, “Mr. Couriway? For your generous help? After everything I've done?”
It must be me, Couriway thought to himself, shaking his head. 2 a.m. isn't working with me. Although he secretly enjoyed taking care of the exhausted Feinberg, who is normally to take care of others, he managed to take up the mom role and tease along. “That's more like it. Now be a good boy and shower before you go to bed, will you?”
“Nah, he’d probably let me. He’s nice. Why not give it a shot…”
Couriway kept silent this time, though his feathers were startled to be standing up for a bit. He had been staring at the lips of the other man(for certain reasons), and this time he could swear that they were perfectly shut. An ambiguous, crazy hypothesis was forming in his mind.
“But I'm soooooo tired, ”whined Feinberg for real with a deliberately bratty tone. “Could you pleeeeeease take off my visor for me, Mr. Couriway ? I can't even lift my hand!”
Fuck.
Normally, Couriway would definitely turn down such a request for the sake of his hidden feelings, calling Feinberg a dumbass and leave him to himself will do. But at the moment, half aroused of suspicion by the connection between the request and the previous sentence he heard, half really really really wanting to do so, Couriway stood up and moved towards his roommate without even knowing himself doing so. Feinberg, who was apparently spoiled by Couriway, didn’t even bother to fake his expression to go with the baby role play. He wore a smirk as Couriway approached, seemingly amused.
Couriway set one knee beside Feinberg on the couch, his torso hovering above his roommate’s, casting a shadow on the other man’s face. His fingers reached out for the visor, the back of his ring and little fingers softly yet rather unnecessarily framing Feinberg’s cheekbones, leaving the others free to actually take the pink goggles off. A shiver was sent down his spine when his knuckles were brushed against by the ends of fluffy brown curls.
Fuck. This is way too much for Couriway to take. He stared at the tip of Feinberg’s nose through the whole process; that’s a skill he’d mastered long ago, so that he could pretend to be okay looking at his friend’s face, while avoiding too much eye contact. But he could feel the pair of electric blues burning through his lashes, and his every single feather literally trembled at the touch of smooth, warm skin.
Just as he went to sink too deep into the desperate hope that this moment never end, Feinberg spoke—or at least he heard his voice.
“Yay, I did it! Should've asked for more. ”
And that pulled Couriway ‘s mind back to spinning. Instead of saying anything, he straightened up to end the few seconds of intimacy which seemed like a lifetime, tossed the visor onto Feinberg, ignored his laughter( "Can't believe you actually did that bro" ),and went straight to bed. By the time he fell asleep again to the light noise of Feinberg in the shower, pieces had come together: He can somehow read Feinberg’s mind.
Couriway spent the next eventless days to figure out more about his new ability. He went on runs by himself most of the time, ran into several fellow HBG members occasionally, and of course, shared leisure time with his roommate. Based on those experiments, he was more than relived to find out that the mind-reading thing only happens when he has physical contact with others.
This was good news, since Couriway didn’t have much of an interest in prying into others’ private thoughts, nor in hanging up on shoulders with whoever he met. He was an adaptable person. He’d adapted to shitty spawns in no resets, adapted to his romantic feelings towards a man who didn’t feel the same, so it didn’t take long before he settled with the new circumstance.
There’s only one certain person he worried about.
When it comes to Couriway’s secret crush, the first thing you should know is that he’d never talked to anyone about it, including Feinberg himself; yet he held a firm belief that there’s no way Feinberg returned the feelings. Evidence? Well, judging by that guy’s same chilled-as-ever attitude towards anyone including me, Couriway would say, it’s pretty obvious, no?
However, Couriway wasn’t one to let those feelings consume himself. He’d had his struggles, but he had managed to live with it in spite of various difficulties—that is to say, Feinberg being Feinberg. He had survived when Feinberg suddenly leaned over and wiped food debris off the corner of his mouth, fought back a heart attack the time Feinberg had stolen clothes from Couriway’s closet on(and that’s not why he’d developed a preference in oversized clothes ever since, no), and even made it through the other night where he took off Feinberg’s visor at an awkward position, where he was only inches away from the lips he had craved so badly but somehow successfully backed off before he was all over his best friend.
Yes, Feinberg had always been a disaster at boundaries with Couriway, and the latter was suffering from that so much. To those who weren’t close to them, Feinberg could be kind of cold, and definitely not a fan of physical touch; hence, if Couriway didn’t know Feinberg better, he’d probably misunderstand those as some kind of love language. Unfortunately, through years of living together, Couriway knew only too well that those were just his friendship language, roommateship language, or brat language, which he would adopt whenever he is alone with Couriway, and decides it’s safe to show how needy and childish he actually is.
Plus, Couriway thought secretly to himself, if Fein feels the same to me, I doubt he’d be able to hide those feelings while doing all those intimacy jumpscares; he’s smart, yet his brain isn’t built for this.
And that thought always takes the air from his lungs, leaving his chest bone to ache.
It got even worse since Couriway was equipped with his new ability of mind reading. The very day after the visor incident, Couriway gathered enough sense to go through what he had heard last night, collected data through the next days’ observations, and came up with a conclusion which he wished he had not: Feinberg had been crossing boundaries on purpose.
Come on; first he secretly made a plan about getting Couriway to do something, then he asked for it, and he actually cheered in his heart when he got it—what kind of a freak does that??Aside from being pissed at himself for willingly doing anything Feinberg asked, making it too easy for his evil plans, Couriway was somewhat horrified at the new situation. He already failed to decide which one to dread more; discovering Feinberg literally thinking of him as a mere friend(his heart ached again), or perhaps finding out that his feelings were indeed returned(he forbade himself to fantasize that long ago) through this mind-reading thing.
As if it wasn’t bad enough, he can’t help guessing the motive of such abnormal behavior. Just for fun is sure the most straightforward reason, but what if Feinberg does want more? Or even worse, what if Feinberg figured out his feelings, and instead of responding properly, he decided that keeping Couriway on the hook would be more amusing?
Couriway shook his head to defend his friend at the thought. Feinberg may be somewhat of a troublemaker as a friend, but he’s better than that.
Still, he can’t stop letting all kinds of vague possibilities run over his brain, until he got overwhelmed and decided to go on runs instead. The air in the plains of the overworld was refreshing as ever. The dandelions were blooming, the sunlight was dazzling, and the sky was so blue—speaking of blue, Feinberg’s eyes were blue, but in a lighter shade, the sky was more of a Feinberg’s jacket kind of blue—
I’m so cooked. By the time Couriway dragged himself back through the portal and into his bedroom, he thought desperately. Can’t get rid of that fucker, can I?
Surprisingly, none of Couriway’s dread had come true during the whole week. Regardless of the bad time he put himself through, he had to admit that nothing was likely to happen when he was doing no-resets alone all days long as always. Besides, Feinberg had been sticking onto his regular unhealthy sleep schedule, which is to get up long after Couriway had left and come back home when Couriway was fast asleep, making it more difficult for them to see each other at all, not to mention the whole physical touch and mind-reading thing.
Yet Couriway failed to decide how to feel about it. He did suffer from the prospect of the weird ability destroying their friendship, yes, but honestly, apart from his faint hope of the “what if”, the mental burden of hiding two big secrets was driving him to want to get this over with. Thus, he didn’t protest verbally or internally when he sat down beside Feinberg in HBG‘s get-together; after all, they do always sit together, and what will be will be, sighed Couriway in his heart.
As it turned out, the meal went perfectly well. Couriway always enjoyed sharing time with friends, and he especially enjoyed it when he could read Feinberg’s mind.
He did argue with himself a little bit on whether this is ethical, to be fair; but he threw all that away when their elbows accidentally came into contact, and he found out about the fun fact that Feinberg would literally say what he thinks. It was quite amusing, listening to him processing sarcastic jokes into less-sarcastic-just-annoying jokes, and still irritating some of their friends after speaking. And holy fuck, he sounded even smugger in his head—how was that even possible?!Couriway tried his best not to laugh too hard, his knowledge of how intelligent and collected the younger man could normally be definitely made this way funnier.
God he’s so spoiled by all of us. And that happy thought made his golden feathers shuffle.
Eventually most of them were full, and they’d come to the point where they were just casually chatting. Infume, who already ran out of social battery, was silently listening with his eyes covered with his bangs and hoodie(Is he still awake? Couriway can’t tell). Feinberg leant back comfortably, his elbow hanging from the back of his chair; Couriway was absentmindedly listening to his conversation with President Poundcake and Dylqn, his knee gently pressed against Feinberg’s. He was totally relaxed from his earlier worries, his mind wandering.
That’s why what he heard next really caught him off guard.
“I wish Couri would let me touch those wings.”
Couriway had just taken a sip of his water at the moment, and he sprayed the liquid out immediately, taken aback at the words. The talking people stopped at once, all turned to stare at him, shocked.
“Sorry—choked. Go on.”Couriway coughed symbolically. He heard Feinberg’s comment in heart(“He’s so stupid.”)and out loud(“Dude are you stupid?”), but that didn’t matter.
What the fuck was that??
As if answering the question, the other man’s voice rang again.“Anyway, I’d still touch his wings even though he’s stupid as fuck. Kinda cute though.”
What did he mean, cute? Couriway forbade himself to think further.
“They’re not that far actually; I can reach it if he just spread them a bit. ”
Hell no, don’t even think about it—
“It will be weird, though. Aren’t they sorta his body parts?”
Couriway despised himself for quivering at the thought of Feinberg caressing his body parts.
“Well I don’t fucking care. He would probably let me. He’s just that nice. And stupid.”
Couriway couldn’t tell at whom was he pissed off more, himself or the unreasonable asshole sitting next to him, who didn’t even give him a glance. For god’s sake, there are people talking to you, focus! That brilliant brain isn’t for you to daydream about others’ wings while in the middle of a conversation!
However, he found it hard to resist the idea of letting Feinberg stroke his wings—the hardest thing he’d ever done, actually. He didn’t really mind others touching them; he was just not used to it, since he tend to conceal his wings on runs in order to ensure the fairness, and at home to keep the feathers from scattering all over the place.
Now that he’d thought about it, Couriway was surprised at the fact that Feinberg never got to touch them. It wasn’t that big a deal, he’d probably let him if he asked properly—fuck, that asshole was right again. Yet this time was different. The yearning of getting touched by Feinberg and giving him anything he wanted never struck Couriway harder.
Immediately regretting it, Couriway slowly stretched himself, wings spread a little more, just within Feinberg’s reach. He didn’t actually expect Feinberg to take action, or even notice, but he heard the younger man’s voice before he could take back his unconsidered move.
“Wow it’s so close, now I have to have a try. Turns out Feinberg Luck does exist, huh?”
I hate this guy, Couriway shut his eyes for a desperate moment. And note to self: With a willpower like this, never ever get involved in anything addictive.
He didn’t have to pretend to be taken aback when a slender finger abruptly swept over his shiny feathers. He turned his head sharply towards his best friend, only to bump into his innocent blue eyes and silly smirk. Couriway rolled his eyes as a sign of yes you may.
But things didn’t end here, to Couriway’s horror. Feinberg, after the first few tentative movements that could be called mere touches, apparently decided that he’s gonna seize the chance and have more. While he was still talking, he stroked and caressed the other man’s wing, fingers running through feathers and fluffs, combing them after messing them up, then the other way round. Couriway tried to choose between enjoying it and act as if annoyed, and he chose the worst—to freeze and blush. In fact, Feinberg’s eyes weren’t even looking at Poundy and Dylqn anymore; he had them fixed on the golden wing he was playing with, which drove Couriway’s cheeks even hotter, and that was not a scene that the gang was going to let go easily.
“Awwww, you guys are so cute,”Smirked Poundy, “Like an old married couple. ”Couriway and Feinberg simultaneously rolled their eyes. Everyone laughed, and Couriway felt the awkwardness somehow faded. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all—
“Being married to him doesn’t sound like a bad idea though.”
Yeah, Couriway was cautious to keep away from any part of Feinberg’s body in order to avoid another heart attack, but of course wings count. He wondered if his body could get any stiffer. His cheeks were close to burning, but no one seemed to notice.
The terrifying thoughts were still ringing in both of their heads. Can’t this dumbass let his brain rest for a bit? “Like, we’re already living together, what’s the difference? I’d move into his room. Or he should move into mine, mine is bigger.”
Couriway sincerely hope he doesn’t go any further into the“what’s the difference”part.
“And we can run as duo more often. Gotta save his ass for another hundred times. Or more if he’s actually going for 100k.”
That was weirdly touching; he didn’t really expect them to still be friends when he finishes 100k no-resets even without all those romantic feelings, for that could be decades later.
“And I get to do this everyday.”
And before Couriway could fully process what he’d heard, Silverr, who was slightly drunk, knocked a fork onto the floor. Feinberg bent down to reach it for him, and when he came back up, the connection was cut, making it impossible for Couriway to figure out whether his best friend really wanted to run his fingers through his feathers every morning in the rest of their lives.
Couriway wished someone could kill him, right here, right now. It was another 2 a.m. on another average Tuesday, he’d fallen asleep out of place again, and he was startled to wake up by a certain someone’s voice, only to find he was being carried in Feinberg’s arms.
Let’s go back a little bit of time. If anyone was interested in how did he get here, please give full credit to my dumbass roommate, Couriway would say, thank you very much. He’d been going on more and more runs lately to distract himself from what he heard the other day in that diner, and the runs were getting miserably longer and longer due to him being distracted anyway. He ended up being more exhausted than ever, and what’s worse, he’d started to lose sleep. How was he supposed to chill if he knew his secret crush was imagining them being closer, being intimate, or even being married?
Though he hated to admit it, Couriway knew the answer.
Yet he didn’t hate it enough to ruin himself over it. As mentioned before, he wasn’t one to let feelings consume himself; he didn’t know how would Feinberg react to his confessions, but he do know the harm of being stressed out and sleepless for too long, and he wasn’t getting any younger. Tired making a fuss among millions of“what if”s and “what if not”s, Couriway decided he would either tell everything to his roommate, or kick his ass out of the house—no one would do the dishes for him then, though.
That’s why he finished washing and went to bed early, but sat back up after having his eyes closed for half an hour and being nowhere close to falling asleep. He stayed up late willingly this time, sitting in the kitchen, searching for words in his head to precisely express his feelings, but writing none of them down through the past hours. You’d never know, sighed Couriway, over twenty years lived on this planet, and I still suck at speaking. He took a glance at the clock on the wall. 1:43 in the midnight and still up; who am I, Feinberg?
Couriway wiped his face to concentrate. No pressure today, he said to himself, the first paragraph will do. Or the first word. Come on, just get anything out before he comes back, and go to bed.
And he failed.
Failed wasn’t enough to describe the situation Couriway was currently in. To be specific, he dozed off in front of the table, with a blank paper laid beside and a pen clutched in his hand. He actually felt lucky that he didn’t write down anything after all, because that was probably the scene Feinberg ran into when he got home.
Couriway had always been a light sleeper, not to mention sleeping sitting always gifts him a sore back; thus, he wasn’t in that deep a sleep. However, he wasn’t exactly awakened by Feinberg’s(surprisingly)gentle movements to pick him up, but the voice he heard when his head rested against the other man’s chest.
“…so fucking light. I knew I could carry him; didn’t see this coming.”
Couriway’s eyes opened in a sudden, then snapped shut at the realization of the circumstance. For god’s sake, he didn’t mean it when he was half awake and prayed that the sensation of Feinberg holding him wasn’t a dream!
Yet he knew perfectly well that Feinberg didn’t mean to wake him up; it’s not his fault that he didn’t realize thinking too loud would be a problem. Couriway decided to play dead, and he did when he was laid down rather softly onto his bed.
Except that this wasn’t his bed.
To be fair, Couriway’s bedroom was upstairs, and carrying a grown man all the way up a flight of stairs could be risky. But oh god what had I done to deserve all this, moaned Couriway in his heart while Feinberg was in the shower, his eyes wide open. Is this a punishment for procrastinating my confession? You’d think all the pining and craving before was torturing enough!
You could have snuck back to your own room after he’s gone, though, a voice in the back of his head pointed out. But you didn’t.
Couriway was struggling to debate with the voice when he heard the faint noise of Feinberg drying his hair stopped. He closed his eyes the moment his best friend entered the room, his back facing the door. What is he here for?
A rustle of clothes being taken off and put on answered his question. Feinberg, who’d already changed into his PJs, shut the door behind him and sat down on the other side of the bed. He paused for an awkward moment, then stood up again. The next thing Couriway knew, Feinberg was in front of him, taking off his glasses.
Couriway tried not to flinch at the touch. He didn’t even notice he still had his glasses on; now that he’s aware, Couriway would have to hold back a puff of laughter at how bad Feinberg actually is at taking care of others in life, if it wasn’t the situation. Feinberg seemed to be thinking the same, because after another pause, he turned to take off Couriway’s shoes.
If he starts to change me into my PJs, I’ll walk straight out of this place, Couriway swore to himself. (Un)Fortunately, Feinberg finally decided to stop and lie down. Couriway’s heart sank with the other side of the mattress. Now he was officially in the same bed with his roommate, his best friend, his secret crush, due to a series of shitty decisions, bad timing, and the fucking creepy ability he’d obtained weeks ago. Honestly, he wouldn’t be awake now if not for the sound from the other guy’s heart, and he would give anything to sleep over this mess—or he wouldn’t even fall asleep outside if he wasn’t disturbed by things he’s not supposed to hear in the first place! Couriway was starting to feel uncomfortable at his curled up position; yet he had a feeling that this would be the position he’s gonna be stuck in over night, wide awake.
And that’s when an arm gently wrapped around Couriway’s waist.
Looking back at that night, Couriway was perfectly aware that he could have pretended to wake up at the touch; but that plan was way too complicated for his brain to make at the moment. Feinberg, Fein, his Fein, was cuddling with him. This wasn’t something to be explained by “Feinberg’s just being Feinberg”; this is far across the line, and Couriway had the faith in Feinberg to have enough common sense to be aware of it. The idea of this may be the night where everything end hit Couriway harder than ever, and for the first time in months, that thought didn’t break his heart, but filled him up with a burning sense of craving.
As if not afraid of Couriway being waken up at all, Feinberg scooted a few inches towards him. Now their torsos were pretty much pressed against each other’s, the taller man’s breath hot on the back of Couriway’s neck. He heard his thoughts again, but succeeded to keep still this time, half foreseeing their coming.
“Fuck, I can actually feel those bones…and he says my diet’s unhealthy, this fucker. What was he working on anyways? Writing something? A diary? Eh he doesn’t do that. He’d been trying a bit too hard lately though. Burning himself. You’d expect him to be more locked in, yet there goes today’s seed 5 for literally nothing.”
Really? NOW? Being touched at the fact that Feinberg had been watching his stream and worrying for him lately as he may, Couriway pouted at the comments.
“Anyways, let’s figure out a way to explain all this in the morning, Feinberg, you can do it. ”
Pause. For a moment, Couriway wondered if he’d fallen asleep.
“Annnnnd I got nothing. Am I dumb?”
Though nervous as fuck, Couriway chuckled in his heart.
“Dunno if I can get away with it this time. This is too much. He probably won’t let me if he’s awake. Fuck you Couri and your internal clock, or I’d be able to sneak out before you get up. Or I’ll leave now, his bedroom’s empty.”
Please don’t.
“Nah I won’t. At least for five more minutes. This is too good.”
Longer pause. His dread for the future infected Couriway, He was now actually thinking of ways to ease his embarrassment next morning in case he dozes off before coming up with anything.
“Was that five minutes?”
Nothing close you idiot.
“I wish this never ends.”
“I should just sleep the fuck through. God forbid me wanting to cuddle with someone I wanted so bad for one night.”
“Or more nights. Every night. Shouldn’t be that hard if I managed to get away with this one. It would be TAS then. W clutch.”
“Well I’m screwed. He doesn’t like me after all, no? Like romantically. Calm as fuck even when he’s inches from me, this brick.”
“…”
Something clicked between Feinberg’s endless internal chatter and the thumping of their hearts.
He was dumb. Couriway was even dumber. He over estimated Feinberg, who was apparently merely following his somewhat of an animal instinct; and he underestimated himself. Wow, he was great at concealing those feelings.
All the butterflies flew away from his stomach. Couriway’s heart was refilled with wild joy. None of the fuss he made over this crush was necessary, he sacrificed these days’ sleeping for nothing, and god that was a terrible seed 5, dying twice while he was thinking over all those shit. But none of those mattered anymore. He needed to tell him how much he cared for him, yearned for him, loved him, with words and actions; he was wanting this man “so bad”, as he put it, and this time Couriway wasn’t gonna lie to himself.
Then Feinberg sighed to his neck.
“It’s about time though. Gotta go. Perhaps I should confess to him tomorrow. I’ll kiss him if he said yes. If he said no—”
Neither of them got to know what would Feinberg do if Couriway said no, because the next second, Couriway turned around in Feinberg’s arms and kissed him softly, right on the lips.
The world went quiet with only their heartbeats, and Couriway somehow knew the mind-reading thing was gone. But that didn’t matter either. He backed off and straightened up a bit to look at the person he’d longed for the first time tonight; the faint moonlight leaking through the curtains helped his gaze. Feinberg was caught so off guard, using his arms to support himself up, eyes wide in shock and disbelief, yet the blush on his cheeks and the affection deep down those blues didn’t lie.
He was so transparent to read all of a sudden.
“I—, what, —you’re, fuck,”he stammered, “You’re awake?”
Couriway didn’t give him a second chance to reorganize those words before going on his knees and pushing them into a deeper kiss. He sipped on those lips he’d pined thirstily, regardless of their teeth clicking together, as if trying to eat every inch of the younger; Feinberg, who seemed to eventually realize what was happening, pressed the back of Couriway’s head and kissed back with even more passion.
Couriway approached by bits, until he could clutch on Feinberg’s shoulders and was very much sitting in his lap. He could feel Feinberg’s hand trying with angst to undo the buttons of his shirt, but not making much progress. “Slow down, you asshole,”Couriway chuckled between kisses, “not on day one. And don’t you dare rip it.”
Feinberg made a pathetic attempt at making some noise to protest, but it turned into a whimper as Couriway began to caress his brown curls tenderly, and was swallowed by him in the long kiss. They spent what was like a decade kissing and snuggling on the bed, carelessly searching in each other’s mouths for the remaining taste of mint toothpaste. Couriway finally took his shirt off, revealing his pair of golden wings that seemed to glow even in the dark room, and Feinberg didn’t wait long to fulfill his previous fantasy of stroking them for as long as he wanted.There wasn’t much word; none of them felt words were necessary at the time, and they were too busy squeezing each other into their bodies, leaving hickeys and bruises, getting paid for all the hopeless craving they went through.
At last they were both tired with kissing, and settled down to cuddle again, Couriway’s bare chest pressed against the front of Feinberg’s pajamas, their legs intertwined under the cover. He was pretty sure their lips were going to swell, and the sight of their necks won’t be nice, but those were problems left to tomorrow.
He was half asleep, head resting on Feinberg’s chest, when the other man spoke.
“But—how on earth did you know—”
Couriway pressed an index finger on Feinberg's lips without even looking. “I’ll answer that,”he said, “if you let me have a good night of sleep, and never wake me up in the morning.”
And who cares if Feinberg’s gonna stay up all night thinking about this, thought Couriway contently. I’ll tell him one day, but right now nothing can stop me from having a really good rest beside my lover.
And he would probably let me.