Jake pulls up after a minute, rolls the window down. "Coming?" he asks, and David blinks tiredly at him.

"I'm tired," David says, "I'm just—"

"That's cool," Jake says. "It's not like — just whatever, come over anyway. I won't judge you if you fall asleep on me."

David gives him a sceptical look.

"Promise," Jake says, "I'll wake you up if you fall asleep."

David sighs but lets Jake drive him back to the condo, lets Jake herd him into his room, even if that's a bad idea. David is bone tired and not looking for anything, not that Jake tries. He just puts some asinine reality TV show on his laptop, and David falls asleep less than halfway into an episode.

David wakes up to a dark room and Jake draped over him, an arm and leg pinning David to the bed. It's impossible to tell what time it is, beyond late, since David can't get himself untangled from Jake's weight to check his phone, and he settles after a moment, shuts his eyes, lets Jake's slow, even breathing, hot against his neck, lull him for a minute, until he's half asleep again, comfortable and warm. Until his heart clenches, hard, because this is the last thing he should be doing. He has an early morning, like every morning. He’s in Toronto for a reason, and it has nothing to do with this bed.

He tries to pry Jake's arm off, but he's even heavier in sleep, fingers curled in David's shirt and holding steady, so in the end David has to shove at his shoulder until he wakes up with a slurred "Whaa—" and then a blind kiss to David's neck. Not even awake and he’s trying something. He probably doesn't even know who's in bed with him.

David's jaw tightens, and he pushes Jake harder. "You said you'd wake me up," he says, and his eyes have adjusted enough that he can see Jake's eyes open, can watch him blink sleepily in David's direction.

"Sorry, dude," Jake says through a yawn. "Just go back to sleep? I have shit that'll fit you."

"I have to go," David says, tight, and when Jake hums but doesn't move, "You have to get off me."

Jake sighs, but rolls off him, sitting up. "I'll drive you," he says.

"No," David says. "It's late. Go back to sleep."

"You go back to sleep," Jake mutters under his breath, and David ignores him, gets up, checking his phone and wincing. It's past one. He'll be lucky if he manages to sleep again tonight.

Jake's still sitting up, watching him, fuzzy looking, and David gently nudges his shoulder until he lies down again.

"Want me to pick you up in the morning?" Jake asks through another yawn.

"Okay," David says.

It's harder than it should be to walk out the door, the slight chill of the night making him shiver in his t-shirt while he waits for a cab he called outside. The worst of it all is how much he wanted to stay. How much he wants to turn around and go back inside, crawl back into bed and let Jake sprawl all over him again.