The sound of a door closing roused Deja from an already unsteady sleep. He stirred slightly, wanted to stretch but finding a weight upon him. Eyes snapping open, Deja relaxed and smiled when he saw the weight was Jarrah, still sound asleep.

“Good morning Jay,” he whispered though Jarrah couldn’t hear him, running his fingers through Jarrah’s hair.

‘What would it be like to wake to this after going to bed together the night before?’ he allowed himself to muse. Deja continued to lazily twirled Jarrah's hair about his fingers, enjoying the silence. But then his fingers paused.

‘Silence? I’m in a room with a prepubescent boy and three other barely-legal men. Why is it quiet?’

Deja lifted his head wearily and gave the room a once-over, realizing that he and Jarrah were alone. He groaned softly and allowed his head to fall back down heavily.

“Great, just great. I bet they eat all of the food, the jerks. I’m starving!” Deja muttered. He stifled a nervous laugh and glanced down, smiling when he saw Jarrah tracing patterns on his chest with one small finger.

“Is that a hint for me to get up?” Jarrah asked, voice hardly a whisper.

“Nah, they’ll save some food. They better, anyway, or they’re not getting Easter cards.”

Jarrah giggled and looked up at Deja, eyes glistening sleepily. He had obviously just woken moments ago. Deja smiled in return a bit lazily, yawning.

“You know, now that you outright said it, I’m rather hungry too,” Jarrah admitted.

“Shall we then?”

Jarrah shook his head, nestling closer and still drawing lazily on Deja’s torso. “I’m not completely ravenous, just a bit hungry.”

“Are you sure you won’t fade away into nothing if we don’t get up?” Deja teased, gently poking Jarrah's thin ribs. Though spoken in jest, Deja was honestly worried about Jarrah's weight, sometimes to the point of obsession. He’d dragged Jarrah to many a doctor, all of which told them the same thing: Jarrah was at a healthy weight for his age, height, and species. He could afford to gain a few pounds without being overweight, but it wasn’t necessary. And it wasn’t as if Jarrah didn’t enjoy eating; he quite loved it. He simply wasn’t constantly hungry, and that was something that Deja (with his perpetually famished state) had a hard time understanding.

Jarrah rolled his eyes and countered the poke by playfully jabbing Deja’s abdominals with his index finger. “Yes, I’m sure I won’t fade away into nothing. We can get up in a bit. I just want to stay like this a little longer.”

Deja nodded in agreement, drawing the blanket further up around Jarrah to trap their mingling body heat. Still Jarrah's hand moved underneath, unintentionally tickling Deja with each stroke that was close to his stomach.

“So what are you drawing?” Deja asked, tilting his head.

“A picture.”

“Obviously; but of what?”

“I’m re-drawing something I’ve already started drawing back home because I didn’t bring my stuff with me, and I don’t want to forget what I was going to work on next.”

Deja chuckled breathily. “Ah, I see. That reminds me… where do you draw usually?”

“In the library, or the study. You’ve seen me do it; I like to draw there while you read or work. Why?”

“No reason, I was just wondering.” Even as they spoke, wheels were turning in Deja’s head, sketching blueprints and crunching numbers.

Jarrah wisely did not believe him and sat up, leaning over Deja. “You’re planning something, Deja Potens. I know that you are,” he accused, lifting a finger to tap Deja’s nose.

“And is that a bad thing?” Deja cocked a brow.

“It might end up being a bad thing. What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes you are. You just said that you—”

“I just asked if it was a bad thing when I plan something. I never said if I was or not,” Deja reminded triumphantly.

Jarrah groaned and flopped back down on top of Deja, cheek on the bat’s shoulder and their torsos pressed together. “It’s too early for your mind games, Deja. Please don’t.”

“Alright, but allow me to point out that it’s 10:47 AM, which in most countries is considered late.”

“Those countries are full of zealous religious nuts whose first worship ceremony of the day is at some ghastly hour. Whereas we are in the laziest country in the world in which most major religions have changed when their first worship ceremony is in order to accommodate the people of this languorous society.”

“Touché. But tell me this: what qualifies as a ‘ghastly hour’?”

“Anything before whatever time I wake up.”

Deja laughed so hard that Jarrah had to sit up in order for him to breathe. While the bat writhed beneath him, still in hysterics a few moments later, Jarrah blinked down in amazement.

“Was that really that funny?” he asked hesitantly.

Unable to speak, Deja just shook his head, paused, and then nodded, wiping tears from his eyes. At last when he calmed down, Deja too sat up, encircling Jarrah in his arms.

“I’m rubbing off on you; you’re becoming quite the self-centered cynical jerk,” Deja murmured in his ear. “But unlike most it becomes you.”

Jarrah splayed his hands on Deja’s chest, pushing back on the hold some to gain enough leverage to look up at Deja. He smiled sheepishly. “Are you saying that it doesn’t become you?”

“I know that it does. It has to. The sweet, caring, selfless guy that everyone can count on just isn’t me, you know?”

“I think it is.”

Deja’s eyes widened, slightly surprised. He felt his hands slide down Jarrah's back as the devil inched himself upwards, rising on his knees. His hands were still upon Deja’s chest, fingers digging into the muscle as they tried to unconsciously clench into fists but were stopped by flesh, and he could feel Deja’s heartbeat pulsate beneath the digits. Their faces were close enough for them to feel the other’s breath upon his cheeks.

Eyelids fluttered closed, pulses quickened. Just as their foreheads brushed and noses caressed, Jarrah snapped back, bringing his hands together in his lap. Deja was startled from the sudden lack of warmth. He opened his eyes and glanced down at Jarrah, confusion mixing with a dash of hurt. Had he scared Jarrah?

“I-I… I’m sorry,” Jarrah whispered, sounding close to tears. His head was ducked, hair shielding his face however, so Deja could not tell for certain.

Before Deja could ask what Jarrah was apologizing for, the devil lifted his hands, fingers separating upon Deja’s chest once more. Deja looked down to see each fingertip resting just below ten small marks that he was almost sure would bruise. He raised his eyebrows when he realized that the marks were from Jarrah's fingers bearing down on his pectorals. He hadn’t known Jarrah was pressing into him that hard. It certainly hadn’t felt that hard. But then again, Deja thought, his mind had been occupied.

“It’s alright, Jarrah.” Deja spoke gently, trying to soothe the distressed Tasmanian. He tenderly and slowly cupped Jarrah's chin, lifting his head up to gaze into his eyes. He smiled a bit gingerly, wiping formed tears from Jarrah's eyes before they fell. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s alright.”

“B-but… I d-didn’t mean… I’m, I’m sor… Deja! Stop giving me that look!” Jarrah cried, allowing Deja to embrace him. Jarrah clung to Deja, burrowing his face in Deja’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. I already told you that you did nothing wrong.”

“I’m still sor —”

Jarrah's apology was cut off by Deja’s finger firmly pressing upon his lips. He looked up at Deja questioningly, who returned the gaze with a stern, yet kind smile.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” he asked.

Jarrah batted Deja’s hand away and opened his mouth, ready to retort. He realized he had no response and fixed his gaze down at his lap. When at last he thought of a reply, it was a soft, “No.”

“See? So why apologize?”

“I don’t know. I just felt like I had to, I suppose.”

“Well, stop feeling that way. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Your chest,” Jarrah whispered.

“What do you mean?” Deja raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“My fingers… your chest.”

“Jarrah, you’ve seen my chest. A few more marks won’t hurt any. Besides, they’ll at worst bruise; it’s not like a permanent or mortal mark.”

“What if… if s-someone…”

“What if someone notices?” Deja finished.

Jarrah nodded, still avoiding Deja’s eyes. Deja grinned and tapped Jarrah's cheek.

“That’s what shirts are for. Unless there’s a random strip/cavity search or someone showers with me, no one will see. Why? Afraid you’d have to explain?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’d come up with something. I always do.” Deja smiled and tilted Jarrah's chin up again. “Now come on. I smell pancakes, and I don’t know about you but I’m at least twice as hungry as I was before.”

Jarrah nodded, at last smiling, and inched away from Deja to stand. Deja followed suit, finally getting his chance to stretch out the kinks from sleep. When he ceased, he saw Jarrah shyly holding out a shirt. Taking it and smiling his thanks, Deja slipped it over it head. After it was in place, Deja held his arms out and spun a slow circle.

“See? Can’t tell, can you?”

“Actually…”

“Someone else wouldn’t tell, would they?” Deja corrected himself before Jarrah could contradict.

Grinning, Jarrah nodded. “No one would be able to tell.”

“Good. Now that’s one dilemma solved. How about we go get some breakfast. Or rather, lunch, in those zealous religious countries.”

“Is it really that late?” Jarrah followed Deja out of the bedroom, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the clock. Indeed, it read 11:20.

“Yup. But it’s alright. You seemed to be getting a little tired lately, and I know that I have. Some extra sleep certainly won’t kill us any.”

Deja could have sworn he heard people talking beyond the door to the rest of the house, but when he opened the door he was met with just the sound of a griddle sizzling. Eyebrow rising, Deja allowed Jarrah to pass before closing the door and surveying his friends.

Sevyn was bouncing around the kitchen, tailed by a rather peeved Randa who kept swatting at him with a spatula. Suiko and Shep were sitting at the table, coffee in front of the eel and a large glass of orange juice titling dangerously in Shep’s sleepy hand. Kei and Eiko were on the couch, both women alternating between shooting murderous looks towards Suiko and grinning bemusedly at each other over Sevyn and Randa’s antics.

At last someone spoke when Sevyn noticed the latecomers.

“Well good morning sunshines! Wanna help a brother out and get this psychopath away from me?” he greeted, pointing at Randa while he made a pit stop at a cabinet.

“If you’d get out of my kitchen and let me cook, then you wouldn’t have a psychopath all over you,” Randa reminded him, crossing her arms.

“It’s not my fault I want to get some real food because you can’t cook.” Sevyn continued to rummage in the cupboard a moment before withdrawing his hand, a box of crackers clutched within it.

“I can too cook! You’re just far too picky!”

“Oy, bo’ a’ y’all stupput,” Shep muttered, resting his chin on the glass and maneuvering his mouth to capture a straw someone had obviously placed in the cup for the tired boy. Jarrah managed to stifle a snicker, translating the slurred grunts as “both of you all stop it.”

“And that’s another thing, Sevyn,” Randa barreled on, ignoring Shep. “Shep is way too dead this morning. What time did he go to sleep last night?”

“I don’t know. We all went to bed at like 1:00. I can’t tell you when he actually went to sleep though.” The answer was broken by intervals of purposely loud crunching.

“He’s going to be so hyped tonight because you let him stay up late and then sleep in this morning. It’s a good thing that he shares a room with you and not with me.”

“Hey, Randa, when is the food going to be ready?” Kei cut in, obviously weary of the arguing. Deja supposed that it had been going on for a while, and the quiet he and Jarrah were met with was merely a lull.

“Sooner than it’s going to be if Sevyn will get… out… of… here!” With the last four words, Randa slapped Sevyn with the spatula on various body parts, but she was careful to avoid his head. Though she sounded genuinely irritated, their fight was clearly nothing less than playful.

“I surrender!” Sevyn yelped, flailing his arms about and dashing out of the kitchen area. He dove towards the other end of the sectional couch, landing on his stomach and rolling over, giggling madly.

“Someone is a morning person,” Jarrah noted, grinning. Sevyn lifted his upper half and winked, retrieving more crackers from the box before tossing it towards Eiko and Kei, who dug in gratefully.

“Don’t you know it!”

“He kind of has to be with mass starting before normal people even think about waking up,” Suiko said.

Jarrah burst out laughing at this remark, and Deja joined him. Everyone else froze, gaping at the pair with clear confusion.

“Whuh th’ ‘ell’s so funny?” Shep growled, tipping the glass towards his mouth to take a drink.

They could not answer for a few moments, laughing too hard. Deja calmed first with Jarrah fisting at his mouth to cease escaping giggles and replied, “Just a little irony, that’s all.”

“Or maybe déjà vu!” Jarrah was in hysterics once more, unable to hold himself up and was halfway to kneeling. He leaned into Deja and buried his face in the bat’s hip, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks.

“What did you do to him?” Kei asked, astonished. Randa and Sevyn had stopped their bickering that had continued over the back of the couch, instead gawking at Jarrah.

Deja shrugged, bending forward slightly to hook an arm around Jarrah’s waist. “Some people, like Randa, get bitchy with little sleep. Others, like Jarrah, think absolutely everything is hysterical.”

“I-it… well, it i-is!” Jarrah gasped out, now on his knees and his face against Deja’s thigh. Deja merely smiled and shook his head, gazing down at Jarrah.

Randa sighed and shook her head, turning back to a sizzling griddle and flipping a pancake. “Breakfast is ready for everyone who has never insulted my cooking,” she said, slapping the pancakes unceremoniously onto a plate. She turned to see how many people would be eating and her jaw dropped when only Shep was at the table.

“You jerks!” Randa shrieked, pointing the spatula at everyone else. “My cooking is not that bad! It just always comes out looking funny, but it tastes good!”

“I know it does,” Shep announced meekly, raising his hand halfway.

With a leer towards the sheepish group now congregated on the couch, Randa slammed the plate down in front of Shep.

Jarrah too raised his hand. “I’ve never made fun of your cooking, Randa. I’ve never had it, so I kind of couldn’t.”

Kei jumped from the couch and ran to hug Randa. “And you know that I was just poking fun at you, I didn’t mean it. You made fun of my cooking too that day, remember?”

“I meant it every time I made fun of your cooking. But you love me, so it’s okay,” Eiko said, standing as well.

“Alright, you can eat too,” Randa surrendered.

“You love me too, right?” Deja asked, eyeing the pancakes hopefully.

“No, I don’t. You’re a tool and therefore unlovable. But you can eat too because you’re cute.” Randa pinched Deja’s cheek, laughing when he swatted her hand away to sit.

Suiko grabbed two pancakes off of the stack in front of Shep, not bothering with a plate. Kei snatched them from him in a flash, brandishing one accusingly.

“And what makes you think that you can eat?” she demanded.

“I’m a sexy beast. Sexy beasts need to eat too.”

“Not molesting sexy beasts.” Kei slapped Suiko’s chest with the pancake, letting go and forcing him to catch it, before storming off to the table. As she sat, she continued to glare at Suiko, one hand unconsciously slipping down her back and the other flipping him off.

Suiko hand up his hands in defeat, backing away slowly. “Jesus, take some aspirin and get over it.”

“Why should she, Suiko? She’s not menstruating,” Randa said, emphasizing the last word. Suiko winced at the term, eyeing the floor. Kei slowly and evilly grinned, flashing Randa a look of thanks.

“What’s wrong, Swee? Does that little word bother you?” Kei asked in a playful tone.

“Shut up, Kei,” Suiko growled warningly. He sidled to the table, sitting in the only available seat across from Kei and next to Shep. Every time he looked up at her, she mouthed the word “menstruating”, each time resulting in a cringe from the eel.

When everyone but Sevyn had been seated with food in front of them, Randa crossed the room to the couch, standing above Sevyn with her hands on her hips.

“There was a lesson here today, Sevvy. Did you learn it?” she asked.

“Yes’m,” he muttered, pouting humbly.

“Are you sorry for making fun of my cooking?”

“Yes’m.”

“Do you promise to never do it again for at least two days?”

“Yes’m.”

“Then come eat.” Sevyn stood and embraced Randa briefly before dashing to the table, swiping a pancake from Shep’s plate.

Suiko grinned as Shep complained, but it slowly faded and his eyes shifted to be almost hazy.

“What’s wrong, Suiko?” Eiko asked, taking a bite.

“How does Shep get his hair to defy gravity?” Suiko asked thoughtfully. He didn’t fully realize what he had said until the table fell silent and he felt three very angry gazes at him. His brain went on haywire, filled with vicious thoughts.

“What did he say?!”

“We never mentioned that around the boys! How does he know?”

“He must have spied on us! That bastard!”

Without looking away from Shep, Suiko closed his eyes and muttered, “I should probably start running, huh?”