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[soldier_singled]

What you get when you spend most of an afternoon in bed is debris, clothes discarded, coffee cups and used plates, half eaten sandwiches. Without the army to keep him in check, Web's a fuckin' chaos storm, piles of papers, pencils, mess. Joe, well trained by an Austrian Ma picks up after himself, and he's started picking up after Webster too

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[thewordofweb]

I'm barely awake. I had been before Joe had started to turn a night in into an opportunity to play maid to my things and I have to admit that my trust in him seems vaguely high considering I'm letting him touch any of my novels-in-progress.

That'd been the point I'd fallen asleep, content to let Joe rustle about and talk and happy to open my eyes once in a while and glimpse all that skin, as if on display. "I 'unno," I grunt in his direction, not really bothering to look at what he's talking about. "A thing?" I guess, in the midst of a yawn.

[soldier_singled]

Joe turns it over in his hand, studying it for a long moment before he turns back towards the bed with it still in his hand. His mouth works for a minute.

"This...well, it looks like me, fuckin' naked..."

[thewordofweb]

My cheeks flush red and instantaneously I am awoken from my sleep into a state of pure humiliation and shock, lunging for the picture and managing to nearly trip on the floor as I yank it back from him, t-shirt and jeans mussed as I gape at Joe, mouth open.

"Where did you find this?" I demand, sliding it back in the midst of my manuscript on sharks.

[soldier_singled]

The expression on Joe's face is mingled amusement and shock and he stands there with one hand on a skinny hip and the other in the midst of pushing back through his hair.

"In the middle of the rest of your shit that I was picking up," he says, still staring.