“Can’t sleep either?”

Teomitl could barely ever sleep, but he wasn’t going to bring that up. Acatl would only worry. So instead he nodded wordlessly, keeping his gaze fixed on the stars wheeling overhead. They were reassuringly faint pinpricks in the night sky.

Acatl didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. He simply hummed thoughtfully as he took a seat next to Teomitl on the flat roof, long legs tucked under the heavy cotton of his cloak. If he sat just a little closer, Teomitl could rest his head on his shoulder.

It was a tempting prospect. Undignified, but tempting.

This is Acatl, he reminded himself. He’s seen me at my worst. He won’t...well, he would judge, but not for this. Not for softness. Not if I...if I...

Ah. Right. This was probably a stupid idea. But he was tired and restless and worried for what the dawn would bring, and he wanted this. He wanted more, but he’d settle for this.

He shifted over, first feeling their bare arms touch and wondering if he was making a mistake—and then Acatl sighed and moved as though to put an arm around his waist, and he gave up all pretenses of hesitance in favor of collapsing into the loose hold. He was right. Acatl’s shoulder was very comfortable. Bony, but comfortable anyway. He wriggled a little, adjusting his position, and Acatl huffed affectionately. “Happy now?”

“Mmm.”

They sat and watched the stars. Whatever the morning brought, they’d face it together.