We don't want to label it

XXV

He's almost breathless by the time it's one A.M. Sure, there's a rehearsal tomorrow but right now he doesn't care. It's been great, getting through all the backlog that's been waiting for too long, sitting here next to Brett, focused. Quiet. They've recorded two videos as well, just off the cuff like that. Eddy loves nights like these, when stuff seems to just happen so naturally, when Brett is being hilarious and everything flows well. They've even thought up a game that they're going to try tomorrow and he's so happy with all of it that he's not even tired. He could easily carry on until three and he wouldn't regret it until tomorrow morning, 9 A.M. when the alarm clock goes. 
"Well, that's got a dent in it, yeah?" Brett says suddenly. He leans back in his chair and yawns. 
Eddy doesn't want to break the spell, really, but one look at Brett and he knows he needs to. He's got the telltale rings under his eyes that tell him he has a Very Tired Brett on his hands. 
Is he still mulling? To be honest the idea of a world tour has been bubbling in Eddy all night and he'd love to bring it up. But Brett said to stop, so he'll wait. 
"Bed?" he asks. 
"Yeah. Mind if I stay here again? My mum will have my arse if she knows I'm still up at this hour on a school night."
Eddy grins. 
"Of course."
To be honest he doesn't even know why he's asking.
"I will have a shower, though." he says. Because he needs one. He never had one yesterday but it's not just that. It's that he wants to relax, wants to wipe everything that happened last night away, wants to be clean and fresh. 
"Yeah. Imma turn in, yeah? You'll forgive me if I'm asleep already?"
Eddy grins again.
"Nothing I'm not used to."

Brett's got a point, of course. How many hours has he worked this week? Probably also at least ninety. He's fine though, right? When you love what you do you'll never work a day in your life, right? He steps into the bathroom and strips out of the clothes that seem to have a powerlessness to them he doesn't like. Tonight he's felt powerful. The clothes go in the hamper, where they belong. 
The water runs hot over his cool skin as he steps under the cascade and he takes the deepest breath.   
God, yes. 
He picks up the soap and scrubs himself, scratching his nails gently over his stomach, his sides, his back. It's like a solace, tonight. He tips his head back under the shower and inhales the steam as the drops run down his face. 
Is Brett asleep yet? Probably. He turns the shower off and dries himself briskly with a towel, that he himself can never get as soft as him mum used to. Doesn't matter. Tonight he likes the coarseness on his skin. He patters into the bedroom naked and drags a pair of sweat pants and what he thinks is a white t-shirt out of the cupboard. One glance behind him and he knows what he thought is true: Brett is out like a light. His breathing is soft, but deep, and manly. He grunts softly as he turns on his side. 
For a second Eddy stands and thinks, then he sneaks back out of the room and to the studio. 
I mean, who is he kidding anyway? No way is he falling asleep when he's this alert. He might as well make himself useful and start on the videos they shot a few days ago. 
The light switch seems loud in the silence of the night. Eddy's favourite time, to be honest. He loves sitting here with just one lamp on and his laptop, nobody around, the whole world asleep. Tomorrow doesn't exist yet, it's just him and the little pool of light. He sighs contentedly and gets back to work.