milliways_bar: Waiting up for Parker

[almost_arabian]

Lawrence didn't go to bed early for a multitude of reasons - or that's what he's telling himself. He's sitting up by the dim light of a night lamp, flipping through a journal of his and glancing now and again up to the door.

He's smoking, but his mind is wandering. The cup of cold tea sitting on the nightstand untouched is proof of that.

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[misterparker]

Parker unlocks the door quietly, sighs when he sees the light and rubs and hand over his eyes.

"Hey," he says.

[almost_arabian]

He glances up from the book, attempting to act non-chalant.

His gazes flicks over Parker, appraising. It's habit. "Hello."

[misterparker]

Parker feels bruised all over, knows he is bruised all over, some from fists, some from boots, he feels the warm skin on the side of his face and hopes that it doesn't rise.

"You're still up," Parker says, goes to the end of the bed and starts taking off his shoes.

[almost_arabian]

He walks over to the little mini-fridge in the corner that keeps his lemonade and Parker's beer, pulling out a pocket square and wrapping a bit of ice in it.

"Reading." He murmurs lowly, stroking his fingers down Parker's jaw before he rests the cool compress against his cheek.