“We’re heading to bed, guys,” Jake says, and David goes red. The way Jake says it sounds — well, like they’ll be going to bed together, though no one else seems fazed by it. David mumbles a general ‘good night’, follows Jake upstairs and into what turns out to be his room. David is assuming, but the number of hockey trophies on the shelves makes it fairly obvious. David’s bag is sitting on the end of the bed.

“Sorry it’s super over the top hockey, my parents won’t let me like, ditch the trophies,” Jake says.

“That’s fine,” David says. “Where am I sleeping?”

“Here,” Jake says.

“Then where are you sleeping?” David asks.

Jake frowns. “Here.”

“That’s—” David says. “That’s disrespectful to your parents.”

“They really don’t care,” Jake says, then, like he’s seen something in David’s expression, “You care, though. That’s fine. That’s cool.”

It doesn’t sound like it’s cool. It doesn’t sound like it’s fine, either. There’s something in David that wants to cede the point, sleep with Jake that night, a big part, but it isn’t bigger than the part of him that just — can’t.

“I—” David says. “I can just sleep in the guest room or something.”

“Uh,” Jake says, “We don’t have one, so.”

“Oh,” David says. “Then I — I can sleep on the couch?”

“No, you’re the guest,” Jake says. “I’ll take the couch.”

“It’s your room, though,” David says. “And you won’t fit on the couch.” Neither will David, honestly, but Jake really won’t.

“My bed’s big enough for both of us,” Jake says, then at whatever David’s face is doing again, “It’s fine, I’ve slept on the couch before, it’s pretty comfy.”

David’s pretty sure Jake’s lying, but he is actually tired, and everyone else is still downstairs. And the idea of the Lourdes coming downstairs in the morning, walking past him while he sleeps, seeing him like that —

“Okay,” David says.

“You want to chill for a bit?” Jake asks. “We can watch a movie on my laptop or something?”

David does, but he can imagine what the Lourdes would assume.

“No, I’m —” David says. “I’m really tired. I got up early.”

“Okay,” Jake says. “I’ll um. I’ll leave you to it, then?”

He brushes a kiss to David’s cheek, one David struggles to accept, eyes cutting to the door, which is thankfully closed, before he retreats.

David changes into pyjamas. He turns out the light, even though, as tired as he is, he isn’t sleepy yet. He gets between the sheets. They’re cold, a little rough. Jake can certainly afford better.