#scribedhorror

Tom was tied down with his ties to a chair in Bill's hotel room. The Journalist was supposed to be getting the scoop on the athlete, and he would of course. But he had to put in some good work to get what he wanted. And apparently what Bill wanted was to ruin Tom tonight.

Dennis looks over at Bill like he's debating it. Weighing the pros and cons of spilling his guts. He really does like Bill they'd been having a great time getting to know each other. He just didn't want to pile on to whatever Bill was dealing with in his own life. That seemed to be a theme with Dennis. He was always so goddamn scared of being an inconvenience to everyone around him.

The smack lands squarely between his shoulder blades and his ego. Robby stops dead in the middle of the nurses' station, slowly turning his head to look over his shoulder at Bill with an expression that hovers somewhere between disbelief and profound disappointment. "Did you just..." He trails off, blinking once before letting out a tired sigh. "Really?"

The offer sits between them longer than it should. His jaw works once, teeth grinding as he stares past Bill instead of at him. Being exhausted is one thing. Looking weak in front of someone else is another. Fingers drum once against his thigh before he shoves himself away from the wall, only to pause when his legs don't quite cooperate as quickly as he'd expected. Irritation flickers across his face, sharp and immediate.

The impact against the wall catches Alex more by surprise than the kiss itself. One second he's halfway through saying something, the next Bill is there, close enough that every thought disappears beneath the warmth of his mouth. His back meets the wall with a soft thud, hands instinctively finding Bill's waist before he can think better of it. For a long moment, he simply kisses him back, slow and certain, the corners of his mouth beginning to lift as the surprise gives way to something much softer.

When they finally separate, Alex doesn't move away. His forehead lingers against Bill's, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he studies him from only inches away.

A slow exhale slips through his nose before he even looks up. Leo pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes staying closed for another second as though opening them requires more energy than he has left. The circles beneath them are dark, his shoulders heavy beneath his scrub jacket, and when he finally meets Bill's gaze, there's no real fight in him—just bone-deep exhaustion.

"I know," he mutters, voice rough from too much coffee and too little sleep. "You don't have to keep saying it."

"Abbot?" The younger called out when his first few knocks went unanswered before he tried again. "Jack, are you home?"

~~~

The knocking filters through the haze slowly, pulling him awake in fragments. Every inch of his body aches as he pries his eyes open, the room tilting slightly before settling back into place. His skin feels too hot beneath the blanket despite the chills that roll through him, and the simple effort of sitting upright leaves him breathing a little harder than it should. A rough cough tears at his throat before he can stop it, followed by a wince as he drags himself off the couch. "Hold on..." he manages hoarsely, one hand braced against the wall for a moment before he shuffles toward the door.

Taken from this meme

Finn held his head in between his hands and squeezed it hard enough to give himself a headache. He wanted to feel it, to feel the skin under his hands. The pain meant he had a body, one that could feel things with, and with things quickly moving from cold to numb, he was grasping at whatever he could get. Bill's voice helped, but he didn't move from his position.