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They seriously need to invest in curtains. This is the first thought that reaches Charlie sleep-addled mind. A bright stream of hot morning sunlight it staring him right in the face, waking him up at what is probably a painfully early hour. He rolls onto his side, trying to hide his face from it, bumping his legs into Meyer's as he does.

The second thought that hits him is that they're not exactly in a place where he can just go out and buy curtains, and that makes him just want to bury himself under the covers further and not go anywhere for days.

He reaches a hand out for Meyer, resting it on the small of his back, liking the way his skin feels unusually warm in the early mornings.

Early mornings are about the only time his skin is actually warm at all, so he can't really blame Charlie for seeking it out then. He's already awake, has been for a little bit, although he's been drifting in and out of sleep, not really committing to fully waking up yet. Charlie's hand, though, jars him into a little more wakefulness, and he's rolling towards him, not bothering to say anything or give him any warning at all before leaning in towards Charlie's neck and pressing his face into it, rubbing slightly.

This would probably be almost endearing if it weren't for the fact that he hasn't shaved for a day. As it is, though, it's probably going to be less endearing and more prickly. At the very least, it'll make Charlie wake up and take notice. He does it again, just for good measure, making sure to really press his stubble against Charlie's skin.

Normally he is all for a little early morning cuddling. Fuck, Meyer is so rarely in the mood for it that he'll take it when he can get it.

But generally it doesn't feel so much like cuddling with a hedgehog. He awakes fully with a start, the hand on Meyer's back suddenly a lot less affectionate with his fingernails added into the mix.

"Jesus Meyer, you got a porcupine fucking glued to your face? Get off." He punctuate with a good hard poke in Meyer's stomach for emphasis.

He obviously finds all of this deeply amusing, and though he rolls to the side a little to protest the poke to his stomach -- he has no idea why Charlie always goes for his stomach, but it seems to be a trend -- he's rolling back as soon as he can, with the express purpose of rubbing his cheek and chin on Charlie's shoulder.

"What, you can't handle a little stubble?" He'd shaved maybe a day and a half ago, but he doesn't keep up with it here like he did back home, and from Charlie's indignant reaction to his prickly face, that's pretty obvious.

"That's not a little, asshole. When's the last time you fucking shaved?" He goes for your stomach because it's hilarious to watch you react to it, Meyer. In fact he's going to do it again, and harder.

"Less than two days ago!"

Sure, he shaved twice a day back home, but that had been different. He squirms away from the stomach pokes, making an indignant expression. "I was thinking about growing a beard," he remarks, not because he's actually considering it, but because it'll be funny to see Charlie's reaction. He deserves it for that merciless stomach jab, anyway.

"Lemme guess, then you're going to take up fucking lumberjacking." You know that squirming only encourages him, Meyer. Still, despite his prickly face, Meyer really is nice and soft and warm. Charlie gives Meyer a little shove so he's on his back, and leans in to plant his head firmly on his chest, safe from stubble scratches. Although in the meantime Meyer is going to be treated to a fateful of Charlie's morning hair.

"Yeah, y'know, maybe I will. Just to--"

He had intended to finish that sentence, but he's a little distracted by the fact that Charlie's hair is suddenly in his face. He's not exactly complaining about it; he likes Charlie's hair, even if Charlie's position means he can't continue to rub his stubble on him. He's not too sure he likes being considered soft and warm, though, and he can almost hear Charlie thinking it.

"Mmm. 'S way better." He's always loved the way Meyer feels solid under his hands, firm muscle and the extra bits of padding around his waist being such a stark contrast to Charlie's own bony frame. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest under his cheek, hear the huff of air he gives when his plan to torrent Charlie further is foiled. He lets his hand come to rest on Meyer's waist, just a light grip for now, the clear intension being that he wants to stay here a while.

Hands gripping his waist, bizarrely self-conscious as he is about that part of his body, is a hell of a lot better than being poked in the stomach, so he allows it, knowing that Charlie is in a cuddly mood, and knowing that there's often very little to do to combat it.

"You're just saying it's better because I'm not rubbing my face on you," he points out, letting one hand run through Charlie's messy curls absentmindedly.

"Yeah, that's what's makes it better." Come on, Meyer, keep up.

He turns his head so he can press a few lazy open-mouthed kisses onto his chest, hands roaming slowly up and down his side as he does. Funnily enough for Charlie he's not even angling for sex, just happy enough to have Meyer close enough to touch as much as he likes.

"I still think I should grow a beard."

Now he's just being contradictory, but he's not really opposed to the kisses or the touching, he just feels the need to be stubborn and the opposite of cuddly whenever he can be. He continues to run his fingers through Charlie's hair lazily, knowing he's making a worse mess of it, and not particularly caring.

"I'll fucking drug you and shave you in your sleep, you tries it."

Ah, romance. Still, Charlie keeps his trail of kisses going lower, paying special attention to the dip of his breastbone and curve of muscle under his pecs.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try."

Admittedly, it would be pretty amusing, but it's probably for the best that he's not planning on growing a beard anytime soon. It's bad enough that they're stuck wearing these modern clothes, but letting himself have facial hair would just be an admission that he'd given up hope of ever getting back home.

Charlie's trail of kisses makes him smile all the same, though, and to continue to make a tangled mess out of Charlie's hair. Charlie knows all of his sensitive spots almost too well, but maybe that's a good thing, at the moment.

"Keep doing that with my hair and you're gonna be the ones tries to comb it down again." A rather fruitless activity now they've run out of pomade, but one he still gives a shot at now and again.

The trail of kisses have led him down to just over Meyer's naval, which he kisses at happily before planting his head down again. Ah yes, it is very comfy here.

"You need a haircut."

That's not really a response to what Charlie said, but it's true, and it gives him an excuse to keep messing with his hair, if it's going to be askew anyway. Both of them could use a haircut, he thinks idly, twining a curl around his finger.

"Sorry I ain't been able to pop into the fucking barber's lately," he mumbles directly in Meyer's skin. He knows it's getting out of control, and unlike Meyer he can't just comb his back when it gets a little too long. His tends to just stick out more in every direction.

"I bet I could cut your hair."

It's a bad idea. He can't even say it with a straight face, and he laughs a little as he says it. He's talented at many things, but Charlie should never let him near his head with scissors.

Yep, Charlie is propping his chin up on Meyer's chest to give him a scathing look.

"Don't thinks I trust yous around my head with anything sharp, thanks."

"Does my face count as something sharp?"

If he weren't so comfortable, he'd be going after Charlie with the stubble again, but as it is, he just lies there, letting Charlie put his head on his stomach if he wants.

"Something fucking scratchy, more like." He kisses Meyer's skin again, right below his sternum. Because there is no better way to let Meyer know he thinks he's being dumb.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll shave it eventually."

He may not be cuddly in general, but he kind of likes the attention he's receiving here. As far as he's concerned, Charlie can keep right on kissing him for as long as he wants.

Good, because he's not letting up for a while yet. Accept the kisses morph into little nips with his teeth as he makes his way towards Meyer's hipbone, kissing again after each one.

Now that's the kind of cuddling he can get behind, if it really counts as cuddling at this point. He can't help but shiver a little, always so damn responsive to Charlie's touches. Charlie knows him better than anyone else, and somehow, that doesn't feel threatening. He runs his fingers through Charlie's hair again, trying in vain to smooth it down.

He moves from one hip bone to the next, nipping gently and kissing. He pauses with his mouth right below Meyer's navel, oddly hit in the face with a reminder of when his sisters were little and he used to give them baths and blow raspberries on their stomachs.

With a positively evil grin up at Meyer he presses his lips back on his skin, loosely this time, and blows hard.

Congratulations Meyer, this one is a keeper.

kore verse; what, this page was lonely

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