Work Text:
Through the haze of sleep, you are vaguely aware of a fist pounding on the bathroom door, and Shannon’s heavy feet on the wood floor. The TV flicks on and off, the product of someone mindlessly channel surfing. Tomo is singing as he makes breakfast, but if his word are in English, they are too faint and muffled to make out.
Then – right when the world around you threatens to pull you from your dreams for good – the bed creaks, arms wrap around your waist, and the familiar scent of Matt overwhelms you, once again submerging you in blessed sleep.