Mitch all but collapses onto his hotel bed the second he enters the room, groaning into his pillow. Nine countries, fifteen cities, fifteen shows. To say he was exhausted would be one hell of an understatement. He has half a mind to change out of his clothes as he lies in bed, specifically these damn jeans - as cute as they are, they’re far too tight and he’s been wearing them for too long and he can’t fucking breathe, and put on something comfier. Or maybe just lay around in his underwear and one of Scott’s t-shirts, it’s not the like blond would mind. But alas, he’s far too tired to even think about changing; and not to mention he still needs to shower, and shave, and wash his makeup off, and just thinking about all of that just makes him groan again. He’s too tired for this.
He can’t help but to shut his eyes as he lies in bed, the prospect of curling up under the covers and calling it a night sounding better and better the more he thinks about it. He’s supposed to go out with everyone, hit up a club or something. And knowing this group, he’s definitely going to be out until the wee hours of the morning, and just thinking about spending tomorrow nursing a hangover and trying to function off of an unhealthy amount of coffee is making him just want to stay in for the night. But as much as he really doesn’t want to go anywhere or do anything for the next twelve hours, he knows he’s going to be kicking himself for spending a night in a beautiful foreign country all cooped up in his hotel room. Besides, when’s the next time he’s going to be in Leeds anyway?
(‘Next year’s tour,’ he thinks to himself and then rolls his eyes. Shut up, logic.)
Five more minutes, he tells himself. Five more minutes, and then he’s going to get up and shower and get changed and go out and have the time of his life.
(‘Have the time of your life tomorrow, on your day off,’ a little voice in the back of his mind tells him. ‘After you’ve slept in.’ He damn near moans at the thought of sleeping in.)
Five more minutes. But, still he lies there, his eyes struggling to stay open as he weighs the pros and cons of getting his ass out of bed and going out. In the midst of that, he’s pretty sure he dozes off for a few minutes because when he feels a dip in the mattress, he jolts up, confused and disoriented. He feels a hand on the small of his back. “Sorry,” a voice says. It’s Scott, and Mitch’s lips twitch into a small smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mitch mumbles, stifling a yawn as he speaks.
Scott chuckles a little. “Sure you weren’t,” he says and he gently pushes Mitch back down. He whines a little in protest, not wanting Scott to encourage his laziness, but he can’t help but to lie down again anyway. He’s just so tired. Scott lies down next to him, his hand still resting comfortably on the small of Mitch’s back, and he gently nudges him closer. “Sleepy baby,” Scott murmurs softly and Mitch doesn’t even have the energy to try and protest, insisting that he’s not sleepy. Instead, he curls up next to him, burying his face in the crook of the blond’s neck and inhaling deeply, breathing him in. He sighs, Scott’s warmth making him feel even sleepier than before; like the magic of a cup of tea, only better because there are a strong pair of arms wrapped around his little waist, and soft, feather like fingers rubbing small circles in his back.
He snuggles closer to Scott, wanting to get as close as he can get to him. He smells of soap and hotel shampoo and aftershave, and Mitch wishes he could bottle his scent up and keep it all to himself. He smells like a boy you’d wanna marry.
(Which makes sense because he is.)
“So,” he murmurs, stifling another yawn. “Where are we going tonight?”
He doesn’t have to look up to see Scott’s smile. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere, baby.”
“I told you I wasn’t sleeping!” Mitch whines, his cheeks flushing a little. “I was just resting - I’m not even tired,” he insists and to prove his point, he tries to sit up but his bones feel like they’re full of lead and he barely gets his head up before he just gives up and drops back down again.
“Sure you’re not,” Scott says with a little laugh. He goes to get up but Mitch clings to him, pulling him back down onto the mattress and nuzzling his collarbones. If cuddling with Scott could be considered a genuine pastime, then it would take the cake over singing any day. Mitch always feels so small in his arms but he also always feels so safe and secure. Not to mention, he feels so at home. “Someone’s sure in a cuddly mood,” Scott muses, making himself comfortable in bed yet again and kissing Mitch’s forehead.
“Not tired, though,” Mitch insists, although his eyes begin to flutter shut once again. “Just wanna cuddle,” he mumbles, sighing deeply.
Scott hums a little, kissing his forehead again, and then, after a moment of silence, says, “You know, I downloaded a couple of movies onto my laptop. And now that I’m thinking about it, I could definitely go for a cuddly, lazy movie night with my favorite person in the whole world.”
“Did Jay Z give his blessing?” Mitch mumbles and Scott laughs loudly.
“Come on,” he says, sitting up and pulling a groaning Mitch up with him. “Let’s get you into something less black and stiff.”
“No,” Mitch whines. “I'm not tired, let’s go out - everyone’s already waiting for us anyway, and -”
“I’ll tell Jake and everyone else that we’ll go out with them tomorrow,” Scott interrupts. “Tonight is about you, me, and this bed, okay?”
Part of Mitch wants to protest until he can convince Scott to go out, but his proposition is just too good to deny. With a sigh he says, “Okay,” as if he’s making some huge sacrifice, but as Scott boots up his laptop, Mitch’s tummy flutters with excitement. He quickly gets his jeans off and puts on Scott's On The Run Tour tank top to sleep in - it's big and baggy enough to practically be a dress on him, but it's one of Scott's favorite shirts and Mitch is the only person aside from him who's allowed to wear it. And even though his hotel bed is hardly big enough for the two of them, they manage to make it work and Mitch can't help but to smile a wide, sleepy smile as he and Scott make themselves comfortable under the covers. To hell with drinks and dancing. He has Scott and when the blond wraps him up in his arms and lets him drift off to sleep with his head on his chest, he knows there’s nothing else he’d rather do tonight than this.