He cleans his apartment. It doesn’t take long — he’d often tidy up when he returned from training, especially if he was expecting a call from Jake that night. It helped the time pass more quickly. There are still hours to go before Jake takes off, let alone arrives, so David goes grocery shopping. It’s best to make sure his fridge is stocked. Maybe Jake plans on spending his time here sightseeing, will want to eat out for every meal, but David doesn’t think so.

David stocks the fridge. He checks to make sure his apartment is immaculate — it is. Eventually, at loose ends, and with hours to go until Jake’s arrival, he goes to his building’s gym. The equipment is fairly standard, unspecialised, but David can cycle on the exercise bike until his legs are wobbly beneath him, which thankfully kills a little time. Jake’s texted him to let him know he’s boarded by the time David returns to his apartment, and he takes a longer shower than he’d usually indulge in, because otherwise he’s worried he’s going to spend the next several hours checking his phone every few minutes, time at a crawl.

He makes lunch once he’s fixed his hair, shaved. Jake may have eaten on the plane, but food on commercial flights is barely edible. Once he’s finished, left it in the oven to rest, Jake’s landed, let him know he’s on his way.

David checks his apartment one last time. Not immaculate anymore. He puts the dishes in the dishwasher, finds himself at the window, like if he looks Jake will suddenly appear. His window doesn’t even face the front doors of his building.

David startles when his phone buzzes with a call from the front door like he wasn’t expecting it, buzzes Jake in, and then forces himself to stay in the living room so he isn’t standing right by the front door, too eager, when Jake knocks. He tries to take his time walking to the front hall when the knock comes, but he’s fairly sure his strides aren’t usually this long.

Jake’s grinning at him when he opens the door, and David barely gets out a ‘hi’ before Jake’s walking in. David vaguely registers the sound of the door clicking shut behind Jake, which is good, because it’d probably be bad if someone walked down the hall and saw them, Jake’s mouth on his, hands in his hair, messing it up. David spent a long time on it today. He doesn’t mind at all.

“Hi,” Jake says when he finally pulls back, mouth red wet, curled into a grin again. David wants to bite him. He doesn’t think that’s a normal response to someone’s smile.

“I made us lunch,” David says dumbly.

“You want to eat first?” Jake says.