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The paint is wet in the bedroom downstairs.
Another set of messages came in this morning about an hour ago.
DYLAN
I got pulled onto a job late last night. Your dog found this confusing and seemed to think I needed more exercise. Took him for his walk, so if you see this when you wake up, you can just go back to sleep. Seems like you really need it.
DYLAN
Don’t worry about Gus, he fell asleep after watching Heath Ledger serenade Julia Stiles (3rd time tonight).
With a glowing sensation beneath his sternum, Derek rolled over and was unconscious in seconds.
The next time he opened his eyes, sunlight burned them. His hand bumped into his phone on the bed as he tried to move.
He’d slept close to fifteen hours total.
Had he ever done that before? The combination of helping Dylan with the repairs and working at the hospital, and the possibly lingering effects from that head injury, had taken a toll. At least after today, he had two more full days off before his next run of six shifts in a row.
He rolled over and clutched the comforter.
He loved Dylan’s bed. It wasn’t just the mattress. They had spent yesterday afternoon watching movies on the new one Derek had bought for his old, sagging queen bedframe, and it was fine, but it still didn’t feel like this. He probably shouldn’t have splurged on that higher-end mattress, but that cost was a drop in the bucket compared to the rest of everything. Technically, he couldn’t afford anything right now with half his home bare studs and rubble.
Come to think of it, Bare Studs and Rubble sounded like the name of a postindustrial gay strip club. He’d have to save that one for Felicity.
These goddamn Gallaghers were rubbing off on him.
Quite literally in Dylan’s case.
While Derek had always been ideologically against begging for anything in the bedroom, he was becoming increasingly obsessed with the idea of touching Dylan.
Going slow had given Derek plenty of time to imagine all the different scenarios he wanted. At least he’d gotten to spend half of yesterday snuggled up with him. It had been jarring how natural it had felt even with his sister there. That half of a gummy probably was part of it. He’d have to find out where Felicity got them.
Low sounds of Dylan talking on a phone call while typing furiously carried through the door.
God, he was still working?
Dylan needed sleep too.
Or maybe Derek could just help the guy relax… But slow. Derek could go slow.
He texted back and forth with Olive about what had happened with Felicity and Carol. Olive demanded to meet Felicity, and Derek promised that she would. He’d nearly dozed off again when his phone buzzed.
JONI
Want to jog in the park?
DEREK
You hate jogging.
JONI
So do you.
DEREK
You make a good point.