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you surround me

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“Andy?” Vince tries, inching closer towards his bed.

The singer is shirtless, facing away from him, hugging a plush hotel pillow. He looks awfully comfortable, all snuggled up in the soft sheets. They finished a show a couple hours back and Vince is starting to feel the weight of exhaustion himself. It’s been a long, endless day. His tired mind briefly wonders if Andy knows he’s fallen asleep in his room instead of his own.

He gets no response. He tries again, this time with a hand on his shoulder. His skin is delightfully warm. “Andy, hey.”

“Hmm?” Andy turns to look up at him, bleary eyed. “Vince… what’s the matter?”

“Well,” he begins, smiling instantly. “You’re in my room and my bed.”

Andy doesn’t seem to care, and when he thinks about it, Vince finds he doesn’t either. Yet he’s still surprised when Andy extends a hand and pulls him into bed with him, moving over to make room to accommodate him.

They’ve been touring long enough to appreciate separate rooms, though this is not the first time they’ve shared a bed when they haven’t needed to. Neither have tried to explain it or understand it. Why should they? As he settles down next to Andy, Vince supposes there’s no need to even try.

They’re both exhausted and the bed is warm. They have each other and they’re all they need at the end of the day. Nothing can disturb this tender moment; their closeness is something dire.

When Andy throws the sheets over the two of them, Vince settles in with him. When Andy throws an arm over him and pulls him closer, well, he doesn’t mind at all.

And when Andy drops a subtle kiss upon his shoulder, he closes his eyes and drifts off, at peace.