#joel ask

Pseudo, it’s applicable to many parts of myself

Places this stupid ass pikmin image in your hand

Joel blinks slowly and reaches out with one hand. Weak as a kitten; supposed to nap for ten minutes and instead it must have been about forty because his eyes have gone fuzzy and his body feels heavy on the rumpled bedspread.

The novelty of Jay being around all the time — not nearly around, not around bro no homo, just… around, with clothing in the wardrobe and washing in the machine and the dog who knows without a doubt that he will never be booted off the bed unless there are clothes flying everywhere — it may never wear off, and honestly, Joel kind of hopes it won’t.

“I was,” he says, and if he’s disappointed for a second that Jay doesn’t join him on the bed it’s not for very long, because he strips off the shirt he’s been running around all day in like John McClane and tosses it in the general direction of the laundry hamper. All that muscle, all that skin.

“Don’t feel you have to get dressed again on my account,” he says, lazily, settling his hands behind his head.

Sometimes Jay still looks a little sheepish or startled, to have found himself here, sharing another man’s bed. Sometimes he smiles just exactly like this and lights the room up.

“It’s been a long week. Couldn’t believe it when Kitt told me to go home at four. I’m not even on call this weekend. Might just drop your phone in a glass of beer so you’re not either.” He reaches out again, and this time, Jay lets himself be dragged down onto the bed. The dog makes a disgruntled noise as Joel pulls Jay down on top of him, and jumps off the bed. They kiss for a little while, aimless and affectionate. Wouldn’t take much encouragement to get a whole lot less aimless, but Joel is hungry, too. All this skin, though. All this delicious muscle, and Jay looking kind of hungry for something other than takeaway Mexican from down the street.

“I don’t mind you waking me up.”