Trigger Warning: Depression, physical/emotional abuse, alcohol

How long they hugged for, Remington wasn't sure, but it was long enough that he found himself waking, sleepy, his feet numb beneath him, and Andy was so quiet that he wondered if he had fallen asleep, too. If he had, Remington didn't want to wake him, but couldn't let him sleep on the bathroom floor all night.

He whispered, "You awake?" 

It took a moment before Andy nodded against him, mumbled, "Barely." Then he moved his arms, lifted his head, looked sleepily at Remington, eyes now dry, face still showing traces of the tears from earlier. 

Remington smiled at him. "Quick shower?" He suggested. "I'll find something you can sleep in." 

"Okay," Andy agreed, noticeably calmer. "Thanks." He unfolded himself from against Remington and carefully got to his feet, yawning as he did so. Then he said, "Sorry, I think I fell asleep for a bit." He was noticeably much less drunk than he had been, which Remington was glad about. He knew Andy didn't like to be intoxicated, knew he didn't enjoy how it felt. 

"No need to apologise. I'll never turn down a long cuddle, specially from you. Anyway, I think I fell asleep, too." He stretched his legs out in front of him, waiting for the feeling in his feet to return, and checked his phone for the time. "It's gone four. We definitely fell asleep." 

"Oh. Wow." 

"Enjoy your shower. Are you okay to sleep in my bed? If you'd rather sleep alone, I can make the sofa-bed, no problem." 

Andy rubbed his eyes, blinked. "No, your bed's good," he said, and yawned again. "Sorry again for tonight. I feel like I ruined your entire night. And now it's four in the morning and you probably have work in a few hours, and you're gonna be so tired because of me." 

"Nonsense. I'd have stayed up anyway, believe me. We just slept for, like, three hours, anyway, so it's actually not that bad. God, does your body ache as much as mine right now?" 

"Mhm. Sleeping on the bathroom floor will do that to you. Trust me, I know." His expression turned sour for a moment, as though realising what he had just said, and he quickly added, "Someone always ends up sleeping in the bathroom on the tour bus. Usually me."

"Well, it was worth it for the hug," Remington said, and Andy smiled. After reminding him how to use the shower and ensuring him he could use as much shower gel, shampoo and conditioner as he liked, Remington left the bathroom, closing the door behind himself and heading for his bedroom to find clothes for Andy. 

While he waited for the man to return from the bathroom, he sat in bed trying to read, his eyes refusing to focus. He knew what Andy had meant - saying that he slept on the bathroom floor a lot - and despite all the other things Holden had made him do, all the physical injuries and emotional scars, something about the idea of him sleeping on the bathroom floor alone made him want to cry.

At the opening of the half-closed door, he put the book down, pointed out the clothes on the end of the bed to Andy, who had wrapped a towel around himself. He expected the man to take the clothes to the bathroom to put them on, but instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, bending down to pull the pair of boxers up, the towel falling beside him on the bed as he put the shirt on.

Remington moved so that he was lying down. The light was still on and his eyes were trying to shut it out. "Make yourself comfy," he said after a minute or so, unsure whether Andy was waiting for reassurance. 

They lay beside one another. Andy said to the ceiling, "Thank you. So much." 

Remington hummed. "Least I can do, darling. You deserve some love." 

There was a long silence. Then Andy said again, "Thank you." 

Both of them were asleep shortly after, and when Remington woke just four hours later for work, he made sure not to disturb Andy as he got up and dressed, leaving the light off and closing the door. In the kitchen, he made coffee and toast and checked his phone to a missed call from Sebastian, followed by a text asking how Andy was, if they got home alright, to which he replied that everything was fine. 

Why Sebastian suddenly cared so much about a man he had shown no interest in before was beyond Remington, but he couldn't deny how grateful and relieved he was of the fact that Sebastian happened to be at the same bar as Andy last night, that he'd had enough common sense to call him. 

Before leaving for the tattoo studio, Remington left two paracetamol tablets and a glass of water beside the bed for Andy's hangover, knowing better than to give him access to the whole container of pills, and left a note telling him to help himself to anything and that he'd be back for dinner. 

On his way out of the bedroom, Andy, who Remington hadn't realised was yet awake, said, "Sorry again for last night." 

Remington turned around to look at him, almost retracted his steps to the side of the bed just to take the man in his arms. "No need for sorry," he said. "You can stay as long as you like, I'll be back later. There's food and stuff in the fridge. Oh, and some paracetamol for the headache." 

"Oh. Thank you." 

"Have a good day. If you need anything, shoot me a text. Or come by the shop." 

Andy nodded, yawned, smiled. "Thank you," he repeated. "See you later." 

Remington blew him a kiss and returned the smile.