Atton was still tired. He was pretty sure he was going to stay tired until the month was over and he could finally move the hell on with his life
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It wasn't that Sparkle had been staying up and listening for Atton. Not really. It was more that he was already awake, sitting up in bed and playing some stupid pointless tapping fish collector game on his phone, and he'd heard the door open, and couldn't let something like that go without investigation.
Partly because he was expecting an Atton, and partly because if it wasn't Atton opening the door, he was going to be really put out.
So his bedroom door was opening a crack, and he was peering out into the living room, and if his expression brightened just a little, it was because it was Atton, and not, in fact, some kind of polite home invader who tried not to awaken whoever might be sleeping within.
"Hey, you made it back before Tuesday."
It was actually taking effort to not beeline for a flying tackle. Atton had been missed.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and took a couple of steps towards Sparkle. Not exactly a flying tackle, no, but still somewhere in the covering-ground arena. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I only missed that target by about an hour. Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"
"I'm an adult, and that means I get to set my own bedtime," Sparkle sniffed, throwing his nose into the air indignantly before slipping out of his room and making his way across the living room to greet Atton. "An hour before Tuesday is still not Tuesday. It counts. Google would totally back me up on this one."
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Partly because he was expecting an Atton, and partly because if it wasn't Atton opening the door, he was going to be really put out.
So his bedroom door was opening a crack, and he was peering out into the living room, and if his expression brightened just a little, it was because it was Atton, and not, in fact, some kind of polite home invader who tried not to awaken whoever might be sleeping within.
"Hey, you made it back before Tuesday."
It was actually taking effort to not beeline for a flying tackle. Atton had been missed.
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He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and took a couple of steps towards Sparkle. Not exactly a flying tackle, no, but still somewhere in the covering-ground arena. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I only missed that target by about an hour. Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"
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He was tired as hell and he wanted to go to bed.
He was still going to try and hug Sparkle anyway. It'd been months. He could get away with one without it getting awkward, right?
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