Mateo
Should'a seen what I wore
I had a cane and a party hat
I had a cane and a party hat
For all of Ever's awkwardness, Mateo only needs the go ahead before smiling warmly and nodding to his friend. "Okay, but I'm bringing my blanket. It's weighted," he informs Ever, rising to his feet and draping said blanket across the bed. He'd never expected to be the one fully clothed (in his pajamas, anyway) if he was sharing a bed with the paramedic - because obviously it's crossed his mind in the years they've been friends - and so it's with an amused smile that he sidles beneath the covers.
"There," he says, just in case Ever has closed his eyes or pulled the covers over his head and needs to know that Mateo is actually present. "I tend to starfish, and I'm a cuddler," he says, and it's a reminder more than anything, "so if you need to move me, just push me away. I'll be fine." Scooting down to get comfortable, it's weird to be in Ever's bed, and that's saying something given how many beds Mateo has been in. It smells clean and yet familiar, and there's nothing extra lying around for him to end up hugging or drooling on.
"There," he says, just in case Ever has closed his eyes or pulled the covers over his head and needs to know that Mateo is actually present. "I tend to starfish, and I'm a cuddler," he says, and it's a reminder more than anything, "so if you need to move me, just push me away. I'll be fine." Scooting down to get comfortable, it's weird to be in Ever's bed, and that's saying something given how many beds Mateo has been in. It smells clean and yet familiar, and there's nothing extra lying around for him to end up hugging or drooling on.
I was the king of this hologram
where there's no such thing as getting out of hand
where there's no such thing as getting out of hand
