Snapshots

Selfies and Snuggles

Mitch comes out of the bathroom, patting his face dry, to find Scott with his phone held out in front of him, trying to get the perfect selfie angle. Mitch watches him adjust his position, wiggle his hips a little and twist his arm just so before snapping the pic. He brings his hands in close immediately to type a caption—it must be for Instagram, then. Mitch runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it to the side of his forehead out of habit.

"Show me," he says as he crawls onto the bed.

Scott lifts his arm and Mitch settles into place half on top of him, half pressed to Scott's side. He fits their legs together in a familiar, comfortable tangle and rests his head on Scott's chest.

"Okay?" Scott asks, tilting the phone toward Mitch.

"Sexy," Mitch replies with a soft hum of appreciation. "Loving the tatts, bro."

"Good, 'cause they aren't changing."

Mitch slides his hand up Scott's torso to the neckline of his tank top. He plucks at it idly, tugging it down to reveal a few inches more of smooth, warm skin. Scott's still doing things on his phone one-handed, his attention elsewhere, but that's okay. Mitch is tired, not in the mood to chat anyway, and Scott makes a comfortable pillow. Mitch listens for the steady thump of his heartbeat, the softer sounds of fabric rustling and Scott breathing, and he feels halfway to sleep already.

Eventually, Mitch feels Scott stretch to put his phone on the nightstand and he blinks awake from his doze. Scott wraps Mitch in both arms and kisses his forehead.

"I'm awake," Mitch murmurs.

"No, you're not," Scott replies softly. "Gimme a kiss and then you can go back to sleep."

Mitch lifts his head just enough for Scott to meet him halfway. They press their lips together, chaste and brief, and then Scott turns off the light and pulls the blanket over both of them. It's somehow harder to fall asleep now that they're actually ready for bed; Mitch's eyelids are no longer weighed down by exhaustion, and all he wants to do is kiss and cuddle and talk.

"Glad your parents came?" he asks. "That was fun, I think. It was nice."

"Yeah, it was nice."

"Can't wait to go home tomorrow, though. I fucking love touring but I also fucking hate touring, y'know?"

"Mitchy..."

"I miss our bed and lazy mornings and not having a million people around us all the time."

Scott shifts around and hoists Mitch fully on top of him. Mitch is used to this position too, and he only worries for a moment that he's too heavy, that Scott can't breathe. Scott's arms are locked around Mitch's back, and he's breathing just fine. The deep, steady rise and fall of his chest makes Mitch feel weightless. He nuzzles his face against Scott's throat and presses his lips to the stubbly part of his neck where his beard is thinner.

He smells like sweat and beer and warmth and Mitch sighs heavily. It's relaxing to be held this way in Scott's arms, locked together and snuggled under the covers in the dark.

"Love you," Scott says in a low voice that Mitch can feel rumbling through his chest. "Sleep now."

Mitch breathes deeply again, tasting Scott's scent on the air. He closes his eyes to sleep.

fin.