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Scott is just standing there, staring at him with that smirk on his face and Alex really, really wishes he had the energy to go over there and wipe it off his face. Preferably with his tongue, but even the prospect of making out isn't enough to get him on his feet. Instead he leans back and lets his arm drop over his eyes, elbow falling in just the right spot to block the light from both eyes and he asks, "Why did we evolve with arms the perfect size, shape, and position to do this?"
It's a question that, to be fair, Saxon has asked him several times and Alex really has no good answer. His secretly thinks it's the perfect argument for the existence of God but he has learned never to say stuff like that out loud in the States. People are insane here, and he only had to be stuck on an airplane next to a religious nut once to know that if there really is a God then He or She or They will make sure Alex has enough brains to not mention God to Americans ever again.
Suddenly Alex realises that he's been thinking about God and airplanes and not listening to Scott, and then he realises he didn't miss Scott's reply because there wasn't one. He peeks out from beneath his arm and looks over. Scott is still standing there, but the smirk now has this sort of very patient quality to it like he knew Alex wasn't paying attention. He gets as far as opening his mouth to ask how Scott does that, when Scott interrupts. Or speaks up, because Alex wasn't talking yet, and dear God or Whoever or Whatever or maybe it's Dear Random Chance, but he is tired.
"You should have told me," Scott says, and Alex jerks a little, blinking at him as he raises his head. That's as far as he's going; he isn't standing up, he hopes he won't have to for at least another year. Or half an hour, tops.
But Scott is serious and he has this concerned look on his face and his voice has gone all soft and Alex is trying to figure out the words to tell him that he wasn't serious or he didn't mean it and...he isn't sure what they were talking about and he has no clue why Scott is concerned. He frowns a little, and Scott laughs and shakes his head.
"If I'd known you needed a shot, I would have been there for you, buddy. I'd have held your hand." Then he leers, because Alex had to get the damned B-12 shot in his ass, despite wheedling as much as he could that he'd be fine with it in his arm. But it didn't really hurt for long and it didn't really seem to have helped and that was what he was bitching about when he complained to Scott about the shot in the first place. He thinks he needs to explain that before Scott offers to kiss it and make it bett-- Oh, no, wait. That'd be a good thing.
He starts to offer to let Scott do so now, when the smirk on Scott's face flickers again and Alex realises that Scott is taking the piss with him. Apparently when he's this tired, Alex doesn't have enough brain cells functioning to recognise when Scott is pulling Acting Face on him. He groans and lets his head fall back again, lets his arm slide back into position and, really, how could something as awesome as an elbow be accidental?
Okay, maybe he's tired. Maybe he's really, really tired.
He knows what to say to Scott, however, so he uses his other hand and flips him the finger. He hears Scott laugh again and he grins, because that's a nice sound to be going to sleep to. Except for the part where he isn't asleep, and why is that anyway?
He feels the mattress dip down and cracks one eye open to see Scott climbing onto the tiny captain's bed he's got in this trailer. He hates to bitch about having a place to lie down at all, but it would be nicer if it were long enough for him to actually lie on.
Barely a week has gone by without Alex getting to point out that Scott is the perfect size for the bed, but he doesn't bother making it now, since he at the moment he's completely jealous of that particular fact and Scott is snuggling up beside him and putting one hand on Alex's stomach. It's heavy and warm and reminds Alex of all the times he's slept like this or woken up like this or hidden from the world on a Sunday for an extra hour without getting up even when he really needed to pee and get coffee. He likes Scott's hand where it is far too much to be bothered by things like....
"Alex?" Scott is whispering, and Alex thinks that's weird that he's so quiet. He tries to open his eyes to look over at him and ask him why he's whispering, but strangely, it's very, very hard to get his eyelids up. Alex tries again just as Scott says his name again a little louder.
Alex opens his eyes and it feels like he's prying them open with a crowbar and that's when he realises he fell asleep. "Muh?" He knows it isn't coherent, but he doesn't think he has to be. He hasn't moved an inch from where he was when he laid down and there is a warm spot on his stomach where Scott's hand has been the whole time. In fact, the entire right side of his body is warmer than the rest of him and Alex grins. Even if he slept right through it, he does love every chance he gets to cuddle.
Scott's laughing at him again, silently, but the mirth is dancing in Scott's eyes as he leans over. "Are you awake yet, dumbshit?"
Alex frowns. "Why are you calling me names?"
"I'm hoping the outrage will wake you up and get you moving," Scott says. For a moment it actually makes sense.
"Why do I have to get up? We have loads of time--" Alex stops, because he's been in the business long enough to know that those words are the best curse ever to get someone banging on the door hollering your name. He glances towards the door, but it stays silent. He looks at his watch, however, and discovers that he's slept for nearly two hours. He tries to say something to express his dismay, and gets as far as "Poop."
There's a pause, then Scott laughs. There's another pause then Scott lands on the floor. He's clutching his stomach and leaning against the frame of the captain's bed, and his laughter is just filling the trailer, and probably spilling out beyond, and Alex knows that he is gone and hopeless and in so very much trouble because that sound is the most wonderful sound he has ever heard -- even though it's aimed at him.
On the whole, he's rather glad Scott loves him back, because otherwise this would get seriously embarrassing.
But he does, and they do, and Alex isn't in nearly so much trouble as he could be, so he stays where he is, flat on his back with his feet dangling over the edge of the bed and he can tell that his knees and his back are going to seriously argue with him when he tries to sit up and move. But Scott is clutching at Alex's knee, now, shoving himself to his feet and his grin is so wide and the laughter is still bubbling through the edges of his mouth and Alex just can't help himself. Nobody could, really. He grabs Scott's wrist and tugs him down, and kissing him feels just like waking up ought to, every time.
He'd be happy to prove it now, in fact, and he lets his eyes slip closed. There's a soft sound, like Scott's exhaled a word he didn't quite want to say, then Alex feels a kiss on his forehead.
"Twenty minutes, babe. I'll go stall 'em for you."
Alex doesn't need coaxing, and he feels Scott's hand brush his arm as Alex slips back to sleep.