We don't want to label it

XXXVI

"You never told me how yesterday went." Eddy says as he suppresses a yawn and massages the krick in his neck. He really shouldn't have fallen asleep on the couch like that but hey, there they are. It's ten o'clock now and he's awake at last even though his head still feels like a canon ball hit it. He has several hours before he has to leave so at least for once breakfast is an option. 
Well. Breakfast would be an option apart from the canon ball and the stone that grows in his stomach every time his thoughts go to last night. He pushes the thoughts down firmly and focuses back on Brett, who has gotten up a few minutes ago and is now just walking back in from the bathroom in his boxer shorts, one of Eddy's white towels around his shoulders. 
"God. Don't remind me." Brett huffs. He's carrying one of Eddy's shirts in his hands and pulls it over his head. "Mind if I steal this?"
"'Course not." Eddy says. Ow, his neck is actually really sore. Not convenient, with another Prok concert coming up. Why was he stupid enough to fall asleep on the couch in the first place? He pushes the stone a little deeper down and eyes Brett as the soft cotton falls over his belly. 
He looks good, today, surprisingly well rested and bright eyed. He picks up his jeans, that are hanging on a chair, and pulls them on. 
He looks really good, actually. Lean with just the right amount of soft. No luscious silk, maybe, but something just a little more rugged. 
Something you can hold onto when the going gets tough. 
"I'm so sorry about last night." he says, his eyes still on him, tearing them away from his legs to his face. 
"What the hell are you sorry about?" Brett grumps. His nimble fingers do up the fly and he walks towards him. 
"What do you mean? Everything. You want a list? Breaking down like that, for a start?"
"That was not your fault, Eddy. Jesus." Brett sits down and rubs his forehead. He shakes his head as he lets it go and looks him right in the eye. "It wasn't. I'm sorry though, for sticking my nose where it didn't belong."
He gets up with a shock and walks to the kitchen. "I was... I was going with the girl first but I don't know. She set off and I found myself here. Eddy... seeing you like that. I... I shouldn't have said what I said."
Eddy is quiet for a long moment as his head swims so hard that for a moment he thinks the stone will turn into lava pouring out of his mouth and nose. He swallows convulsively and looks at his lap. God, where do they stand now? As if the weird thing that happened the other night is not enough now there's this? And as if that wasn't enough they spent the night like this, on a couch, when there's a bed five metres away? And he can feel him, you know. He knows when Brett is reaching his breaking point, he knows when to give him space. 
He looks up once clarity hits and nods. 
Space. He can give him space. All of this crap needs to be over with, he needs to get his head in the game and be his colleague, not just his... Eddy. 
"It helped, what you said." he says quietly, honestly. "It did, so don't sweat it. I really am very sorry for all the drama."
"Has she texted you?"
Eddy is already shaking his head when he's still checking his phone. He knows her too well. 
"No. But I'm sure I would have heard if anything would have happened to her."
"Yeah."
Suddenly Eddy grins and he gets up, too. He'll cook him some breakfast and he'll give him some space. 
"Okay. So spill. What happened yesterday with the recording and the kangaroo girl." he asserts as he picks up the pan. 
"Fuck you, you're not letting this go? Well, it was torture, as you very well know. But it's going to pay for most of my bills this month so I'm not complaining."
"Well, I can't wait to see it on TV." Eddy snickers. He picks up the kettle and fills it, then flicks it on. "It'll be fun, watching you dying with embarrassment as some girl hops around you."
Brett snorts. He walks to the couch and flops down. 
"You can kiss my arse, Eddy, I'm hiding the TV remote until it's long gone. Anyway. What's up with your neck?"
Eddy sighs and moves his head carefully from side to side, then winces. Trust Brett to look right through him as usual.
"Nothing, really, just that I'm too old now to sleep on couches."
"Alright, come here then." Brett grins. "Sit down, old man. I'll give you a quick rub so you'll be able to play some Prokofiev later. Yeah? Then we'll have breakfast."