A/N: (This is the original authors note that was written when I was hand-writing it. It amuses me.) Okay, so I'm on vacation. My seven year old cousin is asleep in this room, my aunt and uncle are in bed watching a Queen Latifah movie, some siren just went off in Washington D.C., I have multiple blisters on my feet from walking so much, I'm drinking a Diet Pepsi from the mini bar in this crazy hotel suite that I want to live in, tomorrow I'm getting my first facial in Williamsburg, Virginia, I'm going to meet Jane Green, and my cousin's baby-sitter is or was good friends with Keith Richards which brings me so many steps closer to meeting Johnny Depp again. Yet somehow, in the midst of the fact that my uncle is standing next me in a bathrobe, we have a sadistic president within one mile of me, and by the time I'm getting back to the 'burbs in Illinois, I'm finally getting green converse, all I can think of is Tom and Doug. I don't know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that my aunt and uncle have some sort of insane, heteroxual Tom/Doug relationship. So, seriously, thanks to my cousin's stomachache, the Lincoln Memolrial, rainstorms, crazy foreign people who try and stalk my cousin while I'm baby-sitting her, conversations of my uncle's hate for fedoras on anyone but Johnny Depp, and the thought that my uncle looks cute in some sort of weird uncle way when he's sleeping, you get this nonsense.

"This product has changed my life in so many ways, you would not have believed. Getting an erection just comes so much more naturally-- well, it feels natural-- but easily now. My wife and I are so unbelievably happy that we can rekindle the flames of the relationship that once burned in the bedroom, and I'm not talking candles or fireplaces."

So why exactly was Tom talking about viagra at this hour? Why was Tom talking about viagra at all? He certainly didn't need it. At least he hadn't last night. Certainly, not that much could change in twenty-four hours. Doug was sure that erectile dysfunctions couldn't just happen overnight. What about testicular cancer? Doug didn't even want to think about that.

Yet suddenly, he realized it hadn't been Tom speaking. Actually, Tom was asleep in his lap, curled up like a dog. It had only been the television that had set Doug into heaps of worry towards Tom's ability to get it up. The time on the clock read 2:07, and Doug knew it must have meant AM. Him and Tom had probably fallen asleep watching some dumb TV show (Doug couldn't remember in his current state of mind which one) last night, and now the TV was airing infommercials. About Viagra.

Rubbing his eyes was a tempting task, but he didn't want to wake Tom, who was leaned on his right arm and holding his left arm to his chest. Doug couldn't help but laugh a little, Tom's awkward position in his lap finally processing in his mind.

"Tom," Doug whispered, his breath blowing a piece of hair out of Tom's face. His eye twitched, causing Doug to smile. Tom's mouth was parted, and every now and then he would give out a slight snore, and an even more frequent slight smile. Doug couldn't help but wonder what Tom was dreaming about, silently and admittedly selfishly hoping it was him.

Tom was holding Doug's arm in such a way that Doug could just almost reach out and touch Tom's face. It was almost like Tom was unintentionally teasing him. He would have tried to move his right arm, but Tom's elbow was planted firmly in the center of Doug's hands. However, that did leave him Tom's thigh to hold onto...

His knees were pulled tightly to his chest, the elbow of Doug's arm that Tom was holding onto was clamping down on the top knee, keeping his legs secure. Tom's half-sockless (one sock on, one sock lost somewhere on the floor) were dangling off the edge of the couch and Doug's legs. They were practically just begging desperately to be tickled.

"Tom," Doug repeated, suddenly realizing his mind had become rather pleasantly occupied surveying that boyfriend of his who was sitting-- sleeping soundly in his lap. At this whisper, Doug's breath knocked Tom's hair completely out of his face that he so often liked to cover with that amazing hair on his head. However, though Doug enjoyed playing and running his hands through Tom's hair, he also loved the view of that face.

It was something about those lips, he knew. Something about those lips that rightly screamed "You know you want me!" Those eyes could work miracles, too. Those big, brown eyes that just made Doug want to go back to those lips and kiss them. Doug would have compared, but Tom's eyes were closed. Then again, there were those other features in Tom's face. Those cheekbones and finely chiseled features that made Doug wonder "what the hell did you ever decide to do with the baby fat in your face? Where did it go?"

But Doug didn't mind. He liked the feeling of Tom's "I haven't shaved in days and I probably should" stubbled, extremely chiseled face against his own.

"Tommy," Doug whispered again. At this, Tom's eyelids fluttered open. He blinked rapidly a few times, caught Doug's eye, and shut his own eyes again. Doug waited for a verbal response, but failed to receive one. "Tom."

"Wha'?" Tom asked, causing Doug to chuckle a little. Tom was always most adorable when he was half asleep. "Wha'so funny? Dih I miss anyfing?"

"Get up, Tom," Doug responded. "Let's get you into bed."

Tom made no move to get up. "I-- I don't fih-- think thah I can geddup. I'm too tired, Doug. I'll fall ovah oh-or somethin'. Will you carry me?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Doug's neck.

"I don't know if I can lift you--"

"O' course you can, Dougie! You can lift anything 'cause yer so strong. Your arms are like-- I dunno. But you-- you can do it. I know you can pick me up!" Tom claimed, his eyes having opened for a minute and were slowly closing again.

"Alright," Doug gave in, reaching towards the coffee table to find the remote to turn off the TV. Tom's grip tightened around his neck as he reached towards the remote and pressed the Power button. "Hold on tight," Doug ordered, wrapping his arms around Tom's waist as Tom hugged his leg's around Doug.

Suddenly, Doug was aware of the fact that he couldn't see anything without the glow from the television screen.

"Doug," Tom whispered into Doug's ear.

"Hm?" Doug asked, trying to see his way out of the pitch-black room.

"It's dark in here," Tom muttered into Doug's ear. At this remark, Doug's shoulder made sharp contact with a wall. How had that gotten there? As he stumbled across the room to keep his balance Tom's arms and legs clung onto him tighter.

"That's because your eyes are closed," was Doug's belated response. Tom exhaled, tickling Doug's ear with his breath. It was silent for a moment as Doug stumbled down the hallway, his feet making particularly loud thuds as he fought to keep Tom from falling out of his arms.

"I'm sorry," Tom finally mumbled, his voice loud in Doug's ear.

"It's okay," Doug responded, not knowing what else there really was to say. Tom's body was slowly falling out of his arms, but Doug didn't know hot to adjust Tom without throwing him around and waking him up completely. And even if Doug didn't drop Tom, Tom's arms and legs were wrapped so tightly around that he feared he would fall down if Tom's weight proved to be too much.

"Tom," Doug whispered as he kicked the door to their bedroom open. Tom didn't move to let go of his desperate hold on Doug, nor did he tighten it-- which was, ironically, what Doug had been expecting. "Tom, get off me. Get into bed."

Still, Tom refused to move. Actually, he let out a small snore into Doug's ear instead. Somehow he had managed to fall asleep in Doug's arms. Doug turned his head and immediately snorted at the sight of Tom's lolling head, although part of it was the mental image. Even Doug would pay to see two grown men standing in the middle of their bedroom, one holding the other in his arms like a toddler that was complaining that his or her legs hurt too much to walk anymore. Talk about one serious Kodak moment. The fact that Tom was sleeping was just sort of the icing on the cake.

Somehow, Doug managed to pry Tom's body off of his own. As soon as Tom hit the soft mattress, he rolled over and curled his body into a tight ball.

"Tom," Doug ordered, pulling his legs out of the ball. Tom groaned. "Come on, Tommy. You need to take off your clothes, otherwise you'll complain about how uncomfortable it was to sleep fully clothed in the morning."

"Do it yourself then," Tom muttered, loosening the ball he had pulled himself into. Doug frowned but reached towards the top of Tom's jeans, his fingers numbly fumbling with the button. He bit his lip in concentration, for some reason finding this task came with much difficulty in not thinking dirty thoughts.

Finally, Doug managed to pull both legs of the pair of Tom's jeans off before flinging them into a pile in the corner of the room.

"Sit up," Doug ordered as Tom unsuccessfully tried to drag himself up on the headboard. Doug rolled his eyes and, in spite of himself, somehow managed a chuckle. At least this was Tom, cute little Tom who he shared his bed with, instead of just some other person. Tom was someone Doug could deal with. "Put your arms around my neck."

Tom did as he was told and Doug settled him into a sitting position. Doug began working at the buttons of Tom's shirt. "Arms open," Doug grunted, pulling the shirt off of Tom finally. At this, Tom managed to collapse onto the bed on with proper sleeping attire, leaving Doug to undress himself.

When Doug settled himself into the bed, his eyes automatically shut. He suddenly realized that he was remarkably tired; maybe he even felt as tired as Tom was acting. However, his almost instant slumber impulse was interrupted by Tom pressing his back into his chest. Doug's eyes opened, but barely, as Tom reached around around his body and wrapped Doug's arm around him.

"What're you doing?" Doug asked, only one eye open. There was a pause before Tom responded.

"Geh-ing comferble," Tom muttered, positioning his hand on Doug's bicep.

"Come-for-tuh-bull?" Doug repeated, annunciating every syllable as if his life depended on it.

"Yea," Tom replied. "Comferble."

A/N: After I finished writing the first part, I suddenly remember that they did that US-national-anthem-static-now thing at this time in the morning... night-- not infommercials. But whatever. Deal, fo sho.