"No moving," he reiterates, eyes closing and head dropping heavy against Yuri's. He's pleased that Yuri has grasped the concept, even if he doesn't know why Yuri would bring it up just now. He could probably fall asleep just like this and not even notice until his back hurt enough the next morning to wake him up/
They both need to sleep, but Yuri doesn't need to leave for them to do it.
He hadn't quite let himself think about that before, but he thinks about it now: how Yuri stayed next to him that night in Shanghai (and the one before, that he can't remember), how big and quiet this room seemed last night when he couldn't sleep without Maccachin's weight at his feet or Yuri warm and breathing soft and even next to him.
It's selfish. It's possibly inappropriate. It's entirely likely Yuri's parents and sister will be aghast, appalled, disapproving.
But he doesn't want Yuri to go. "Just stay here."
It sounds easier than it is to say. This isn't a hotel in Shanghai or Moscow where no one will notice or care or ever know who stays in what bed with what company, but he's not sure he cares. Not tonight. Not after the last few days. Not when there's so much to talk over, or say, that he doesn't know how to haul out into the light still on in this room, no matter how dim it might be.
Yuri leaned back into him. Yuri crawled back into his lap.
Yuri doesn't want to leave him, either, does he?
Arms tightening, a quiet, heartfelt request muffled into the crook of Yuri's neck. "Stay with me tonight.
no subject
"No moving," he reiterates, eyes closing and head dropping heavy against Yuri's. He's pleased that Yuri has grasped the concept, even if he doesn't know why Yuri would bring it up just now. He could probably fall asleep just like this and not even notice until his back hurt enough the next morning to wake him up/
They both need to sleep, but Yuri doesn't need to leave for them to do it.
He hadn't quite let himself think about that before, but he thinks about it now: how Yuri stayed next to him that night in Shanghai (and the one before, that he can't remember), how big and quiet this room seemed last night when he couldn't sleep without Maccachin's weight at his feet or Yuri warm and breathing soft and even next to him.
It's selfish. It's possibly inappropriate. It's entirely likely Yuri's parents and sister will be aghast, appalled, disapproving.
But he doesn't want Yuri to go. "Just stay here."
It sounds easier than it is to say. This isn't a hotel in Shanghai or Moscow where no one will notice or care or ever know who stays in what bed with what company, but he's not sure he cares. Not tonight. Not after the last few days. Not when there's so much to talk over, or say, that he doesn't know how to haul out into the light still on in this room, no matter how dim it might be.
Yuri leaned back into him. Yuri crawled back into his lap.
Yuri doesn't want to leave him, either, does he?
Arms tightening, a quiet, heartfelt request muffled into the crook of Yuri's neck. "Stay with me tonight.
"Please."