Of course he was awake. When did he ever sleep?

He was, at that very moment, sitting and staring up at the ceiling, overthinking things to pieces, stewing about was he really going to spend possibly his last night on earth apart from the love of his life?

But he didn’t want to be a bother. Didn’t want to impose. This was Alex’s space, after all, and he was already taking up enough of it.

The knock on his door was a huge weight off his shoulders. Oh, thank god, he mouthed, quickly sitting up.

“It’s open,” he said, rubbing one hand down the back of his neck, “c’mon in.”

Like the apartment before it, ‘his’ bedroom is sparse. Most of it is leftover furniture Alex had managed to wrangle-- bed, bedside table, chest of drawers. All of his good clothes are hanging in the closet. The walls and floor are bare.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

Memo smiled up at Alex, who seemed nervous to enter a room in his own house. He tried to fight down the feeling of imposing.

“I just don’t have a lot of stuff, is all,” he said, waving away Alex’s concerns. “Besides, most of my material wealth is in my closet.”

Everything that matters to me is you.

He patted a palm against the bed next to him, hurrying to redistribute pillows and blankets to make a little nest.

“Absolutely. I’ve kind of been waiting.”

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

“It’s called fashion,” he quietly calls in Alex’s wake as the man disappears from his doorway and returns with more pillows and blankets than six people needed.

Memo took the proffered comfort items and arranged them in a neat, overlapping pattern.

“For someone who likes it chilly you sure sleep with a lot of stuff.”

The blanket went last, splayed out over top to cover them. He peeled back the covers and then flipped them up when Alex was comfortably inside.

“If anyone is sleeping tonight, they’re either crazy, or oblivious,” he said with a quiet laugh, snuggling down into the softness surrounding them, cheek on Alex’s chest.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

“Go ahead,” he said, amazed at how much more relaxed he felt in Alex’s presence. Like a puzzle that had finally found its missing piece.

"Well. Neither of us has to be lonely anymore."

He shivered at Alex’s touch, sighing peaceably into the dark.

“Yeah. I’m terrified, actually.” It was an odd thing, being honest about what he felt. Especially when it was a negative emotion. "What about you?"

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

Alex’s frankness startled a laugh out of him, and he turned his head and hid his face in his boyfriend’s chest as the giggles drew to a stop.

“There’s not much else we can do,” he said, exhaling measuredly, “except face it. It’s not really something we can change, at present.”

Alex’s question made him him a thoughtful note, thumb tracing along the line of the other man’s collarbone.

“There’s no one I would rather spend it with,” he said, quiet and full of meaning. “And if we do die tomorrow I… thank you, for making me so happy.”

He was a bleeding heart at his core, so sue him.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

His eyes half-close and he lays there, content to exist in the warmth and the cadence of Alex’s breathing and the hum of the AC unit.

“Just once,” he says, “I’d like to… not have to kick and scream. To survive. You know?”

With you at my side.

“Of course.”

He tilts his head up, spark of mischief in his gaze.

“Did you have something in mind?” he asks, one eyebrow raised, tone turning flirtatious as his body washes with electricity. Like Alex was the piece that finished his circuit.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

He would live and die by the blush on Alex’s cheeks. The way his whole face turned red, and it spread down his neck, across his collarbones-- even dusted his shoulders rosy.

Memo decides the blanket nest is a worthy sacrifice as he disrupts it for the purpose of sitting astride his boyfriend, knees on the mattress, resting on Alex’s thighs. He puts one palm on the pillows next to Alex’s head, about to lean in and kiss the rambling off his lips when--

“Oh.”

He doesn’t frown, but it sure does catch him off guard. He blinks, tensing a little.

“Y--yeah, sure.”

It wasn’t the Alex Leading part that put him on edge (a soft edge, but definitely an edge). Generally, they balanced each other well: Alex wasn't overtly pliant and knew what he was about enough to direct.

There were just… stipulations. To these things. Given his past history, you understand.

Memo was the performer, not the performee, if you would.

“What, um. What… were you thinking?”

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov