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[vecna]

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[striketwice]

[ Well, at least Henry knows what he wants. Alec can't say he minds. ]

Fine by me. I've got nowhere to be.

[vecna]

[Henry has always known what he wants. Alec just happens to have slotted himself right into the center of all those wants, as of late, like a black hole devouring all else--

Not that he expected a rejection, but he's pleased to hear his willingness to stay, all the same.]

You know, I'm starting to realize there's more than one use for that portal you've set up in my room.

[striketwice]

You mean aside from me sneaking presents into your room?

[vecna]

Yes. [As if Alec doesn't know what he's talking about.] Like sneaking you in and out of my room.

[striketwice]

[ He laughs. ]

Keep up, Henry. I thought about that like two days ago.

[vecna]

[wow.]

And here I was, being practical, while you were motivated for other reasons altogether.

[This is not an actual complaint. (Nor is it serious.)]

[striketwice]

Is that so? And just what are your motivations for having me sneak in and out of your room?

[vecna]

I told you. An easy emergency escape route.

But now that I know you're just looking for an equally easy shortcut into my bed, well, I hardly know how to feel.

[striketwice]

Did I say that? When did I say that? Please, enlighten me, mister "why don't you stay for the night".

[vecna]

[His attempt at playing coy, which was never serious to start, falls to pieces. Henry laughs lightly but earnestly.]

I guess you've got me there.

[Oh well.]

You owe me something from the game, by the way. Do you remember?

[striketwice]

[ Yeah, he thought so. ]

I do? I think you're going to have to jog my memory.

[vecna]

[He steps forward to close what notable space remains between them.]

I think I'm owed exactly one instance of physical touch.

[striketwice]

[ There's that smirk again. His eyes flick up to Henry's. ]

Just one?

[vecna]

One... and then some.

[Henry reaches out, resting a hand at the side of Alec's face for just a moment before it slides downwards, his fingertips resting gently beneath his chin.

He leans in forward for a kiss.]

[striketwice]

[ It's the "and then some" that he's honestly hoping for. Henry's hand is warm against the side of his face, his touch surprisingly gently when it shifts. But maybe little things like this keep happening. Maybe he doesn't mind it so much, from Henry.

Alec leans in to meet him, his own hand slipping up to curl around the back of Henry's neck. ]

[vecna]

[There’s always been a flare of hunger in every kiss he’s given Alec, a sort of assertiveness that comes part and parcel with Henry’s actual personality, not just the one he keeps forward-facing towards the world. And it’s no different this time, either; that sharp eagerness exists here and now, as he catches his lips against Alec’s.

But there’s something else, too. The way it lingers, just a half-second before he pulls away, reticent to break their connection — it’s more than just hungry and impatient, like that first day they slept together. It’s almost fond, almost even… gentle. Blame the Christmas present, maybe.

He looks at him with bright, mismatched eyes once he does pull away, the moment dissipating.]

Bed?

[To be fair, he can still be impatient.]

[striketwice]

[ Alec has become quite well-acquainted with the whirlwind of force that is Henry's personality, the fire that simmers beneath that polite façade. It often comes out when it's just the two of them behind closed doors, and it comes out now in the hungry way Henry claims his lips.

And then there's something else. A moment, fleeting as a heartbeat, where this thing between them softens, and Alec very nearly leans back in to try and pursue it. He doesn't. It's over as quickly as it came, and things are back to how they should be.

The corner of his mouth lifts. Typical Henry. ]

Bed.

[vecna]

[His smile is serene, though his look is sharp with that telltale impatience. At least the track record thus far proves that he’s hardly twisting Alec’s arm.

To bed, then.

…Their time spent together on this night is much like their previous trysts; heated and eager and just aggressive enough to leave marks afresh on each other’s body. But something different happens this time: instead of someone taking their leave—neither seemed keen on indulging themselves in the post-coital languidness for too long before now—he finds that Alec has… fallen asleep. In his bed.

For a while, Henry just watches him, and commits once more the lines of his profile to his memory. It’s strangely serene, seeing him like this, and the rarity of it compels him to make use of his newest holiday gift.

Whether or not Alec eventually awakens to the sound of a pencil scratching gently across paper is yet to be seen. But regardless, Henry sits up in his bed, turned at an angle to see him, crossed-legged beneath where the sheets bunch just below his waist. He's drawing in his sketchbook.]

[striketwice]

[ If asked, Alec might blame any number of things for the reason he slips so easily into slumber in Henry's bed. The fact that the portal has left him with a sense of ease, the fact that he's been waking up at odd hours to work on his portal network when no one is around, the damn game and all the Christmas cheer has worn him the fuck out.

And maybe some of that is true. It certainly contributes. But whatever else it is that leads Alec to uncharacteristically linger, to let him unwind and fall asleep, will have to remain a mystery for now because he doesn't seem to be stirring just yet. Even the sound of pencil on paper or the feeling of Henry's eyes on him don't seem to rouse him. Stranger still, because Alec is a light sleeper by habit.

Henry is one of the very, very few to catch him being utterly vulnerable. ]

[vecna]

[It does feel as though he’s become privy to something very few others have seen; like a little, unknowingly shared secret between himself and Alec. Though it’ll be immortalized in his sketchbook at this rate, the way his more gestural lines begin to firm up to resemble Alec’s features, how he looks like this — vulnerable and peaceable.

He’s quiet for a while, continuing to draw, eyes flicking up and back down to the sketchbook time and again. Eventually, though, he hazards a slow lean forward to better look at the angle of his brow, a closer examination with slow-roving eyes.

The mattress shifts a little accordingly, bed frame squeaking gently.]

[striketwice]

[ That does it. Alec so rarely shares a sleeping space with another person that the slight movement of the mattress rouses him at last. He twitches, eyes fluttering open. He looks a bit confused at first, frowning up at Henry as he comes into focus. ]

Shit... [ Groggy. ] Did I fall asleep?

[ What the fuck, self? ]

[vecna]

[Ah, damn. Henry leans back, brows raising but mouth twisting almost apologetically.]

I didn't mean to wake you.

[He's never seen Alec groggy, either. That, too, is interesting, and his eyes sweep over him as he takes in the sight. Burns it into his memory.]

You must have been tired.

[striketwice]

Yeah, well, I didn't mean to fall asleep.

[ He should get up. Get dressed. Move.

He doesn't want to. So he rolls onto his back, trying to scrub the sleep out of his eyes with one hand. ]

What can I say? Been a long few days.

[vecna]

[For a moment, Henry wonders if he will get up, get dressed, and leave. No, he doubts Alec meant to fall asleep at all, and he half-expects him to fix that error sooner rather than later. It’s a disappointing thought.

But instead, he stays for now, and Henry doesn’t even try to banish the thread of satisfaction that winds itself through him. He’s crossed-legged, beneath the sheets, and balances the bottom of his sketchbook on a knee, leaning in to rest his hand and chin atop it not unlike a kid would do. One of his new pencils hangs loosely from between two fingers.]

It has, hasn’t it?

[So, so much has happened.]

But I don’t mind it. If you want to sleep here.

[striketwice]

[ His gaze flicks over to watch Henry. The way he sits, the sketchbook on one knee, the strikingly familiar pencil between his fingers. He knew Henry would use the pencils, of course, but there's something weird about seeing it, and so soon.

Eventually, his eyes travel up to Henry's own, low stormy light locking with mismatched colors. ]

That an invitation?