Yifan's ready to pull his hair out. He pushes his fingers over his scalp, pressing his palms into his face and wondering how long he has to hold them there before he suffocates or passes out. Either is preferable to this absolute hell of decision-making and planning and reworking. It's one thing if he's in the beginning stages. Then, he can kind of relax and take his time, because the less stress and anxiety there is, the more easily focused and less distracted he can be.

Less distracted being key.

He is King when it comes to procrastination. Even in grade school or high school, when there was a book report or project, he'd suddenly feel like cleaning his entire room. From clearing out his closet to vacuuming under his bed and behind his desk, he'd finish with plastic bags of toys and clothes his mom could donate and a beautifully organised bedroom, but his homework would remain. Quietly taunting him. In college, cleaning wasn't as big a distraction, sharing a space with another person, and he trained himself to stay focused and get done so he'd have the available time to make his public appearances at parties and basketball games.

As an adult, his time management skills lapsed. His stress levels can be determined by how clean his apartment is, and he just dusted the shelves and washed all of the curtains yesterday.

It has been a while since the floors were scrubbed...

No, Yifan scolds himself and drops his hands to his lap, eyes wide in an attempt to wake himself up more by coating them in oxygen. Rolling his shoulders back, he shifts to plant his feet more firmly on the floor and leans towards his laptop with renewed resolve.

It doesn't last. The clock at the top right of his screen tells him that it's late and reminds him that it is past his bedtime, he is tired, and there is a warm, snuggly body waiting for him in bed, but he is so close to being done, and his co-workers are depending on his input on this project. He can't give in, now. He can't afford to be distracted.

Fingers hovering over the keys, thumb tapping the mouse pad to scroll through plans, he glares at the screen and shuts everything else from his mind.

He hears but ignores the creak down the hall, but a little voice at the back of his head asks about the shff shff of slippered feet. Moments later, Chanyeol peers into their little family room, hair sticking up in back but flattened on the left side, and Yifan's concentration is completely broken. He loves seeing his boyfriend like this, all soft and quiet with sleep, completely opposite to when he's fully awake.

"Hey, Chanyeol," he greets softly. His back cracks in three places when he arches and reaches his arms over his head. It sounds awful but feels amazing.

"Why are you still awake?" Chanyeol glances at the clock on the wall behind him and yawns. "Babe, it's like the asscrack of dawn."

"I'm just finishing a project," Yifan grunts as he returns to his working slouch. "Go back to bed."

"Nah, I'm up." Chanyeol leans over the back of the sofa and hugs Yifan, yawning into his shoulder before settling his chin at the base of Yifan's neck. His breath tickles. "Besides, it's lonely without you."

"I'll be there, soon."

Chanyeol blows a disbelieving raspberry. "Sure." He stands, and Yifan misses the contact, but his boyfriend just circles the couch, pushes Yifan to sit upright, and parks himself right on Yifan's thighs.

"Chanyeol...I can't work with you like this."

"Sure you can."

Yifan makes a weak attempt to reach his laptop. Chanyeol rolls his eyes and stands up again. He grabs the laptop, sets it on the cushion next to Yifan, and then returns to his spot on Yifan's lap, only he straddles Yifan's legs and wraps his arms around Yifan's neck. "There."

It's not an improvement. "I need to finish this, Chanyeol."

"And there is your laptop." They stare at one another, an impromptu staring match that Yifan loses—as usual—because Chanyeol has big, really pretty eyes, even fogged with remnants of sleep, and he knows how to use them. They curve when he smiles impishly. "I'm not that distracting, am I?"

It's like dealing with a toddler. Once they're up, they're up, and that means it's time to play or eat. Yifan would welcome a snack break, but he doesn't have the time to fool around. "Yes." His hands rest on Chanyeol's knees, thumbs his bared thighs.

"Well, too bad." Chanyeol presses a quick kiss to his lips. "You brought it on yourself, procrastinating for so long."

"Fair enough, but please sit normal, or the only thing getting done is you."

Chanyeol hums, considering, but he moves obediently when Yifan pats his and pushes at his waist a bit with a pouty sort of scowl. He slides to the sides and shifts to free his right leg and tuck it over Yifan's lap.

Yifan takes his laptop and balances it on Chanyeol's legs. "Is this too hot?"

"No, but you are." Chanyeol's left elbow is on the back of the sofa; he holds his chin in his hand and watches Yifan with the sort of smile that's really too flirty for how early in the morning it is. It's honestly a little unfair just how good Chanyeol looks after waking up. Yifan suspects he is a little bit biased, but still. Chanyeol's always gorgeous. If Yifan was a lesser man, he's say it and put his computer aside to his boyfriend into the cushions, which would accomplish a few things: One, Chanyeol would effectively be out for the count, because he always gets sleepy after , which leads to two, in that he wouldn't be grumpy in the actual wake-up-time morning—as nice as he looks after waking up, his personality does not necessarily match—and three, Yifan could finish his work in sated peace.

It's a solid idea, but it's too much work. He does not have the energy; it's taking all he's got just to keep his hands from just dragging over the keys while he types. The mere thought of carrying Chanyeol to bed makes him wilt, and they're both much too tall to even attempt sleeping on the sofa.

There's a knot of tension tightening at the back of his neck, tying up the muscles between his shoulders and pinching. Chanyeol's watching quietly, lower half of his face tucked into his arm, now. Yifan sees him sit upright and lean forward out of the corner of his eye, but his boyfriend just pets the back of his head, playing with the short hairs at his neck and digging his fingers into the muscles a little. He frowns at the tension and tucks his other arm under Yifan's chin to lace his fingers together.

"Come back to bed," Chanyeol drawls softly. He squeezes Yifan a little and nuzzles his forehead against Yifan's shoulder. "C'mon. I can't sleep without my hug pillow."

Yifan doesn't say anything, and Chanyeol doesn't let him go. He sighs, saves his work, and closes his laptop with a soft snap. He has to push at Chanyeol to stand upright and hauls himself to his feet. His body has to realign and fall back into place with a series of snaps and pops, but he can eventually move in a humanlike shuffle. Chanyeol immediately leans against him, nearly toppling them both back to the sofa, but Yifan catches himself and pulls his boyfriend's arms around his waist to guide him back to their bedroom at a waddling pace.

It's cool in the bedroom. Chanyeol has left the windows open, and the curtains billow in the breeze that carries traffic noise and the ocassional birdsong.

He shuffles to their bed, unbuckles Chanyeol's fingers, and drops him onto the mattress. Turning, he picks up Chanyeol's feet and tosses them over the mattress. Chanyeol just mumbles an incomprehensible complaint and makes weak swiping motions. in Yifan's direction "Fanfan..."

"Just a minute." He kisses Chanyeol's ear. "I'll be right back." He strips off his sweater as he pads to the bathroom, closing the door before turning on the light. He drops his sweater over a wall hook and kicks off his jeans.

The mirror surprisingly doesn't shatter when he checks out the luggage beneath his eyes. He skips his nightly mask and swishes mouth wash as he scrubs his face, instead.

Minutes later, with a fresh face and clean teeth, he turns out the light and uses the ambient city light to find the lump on the bed. Chanyeol's imitating a starfish in his almost-sleep, but he cracks open an eye enough to look at him and softly run a hand up Yifan's leg.

"Move over, or I'll lay on you."

"s' fine..." Chanyeol rolls onto his back, giving up a strip of space for Yifan to shuffle into. He tucks his hands under Chanyeol's shoulder and hip and flips him over again, quickly claiming the warm spot and chuckling at his boyfriend's indignant whine. They always seem to spatula before they spoon, and Chanyeol actually sits up to frown at Yifan, groping at his side and shoulder until he finds Yifan's chest and thumps it with his fist. "Mean." He lays back and lifts his to free the blankets, slips underneath, and curls along Yifan's side. Forgive and forget.

He tucks a leg over and between Yifan's and quickly falls asleep.

Yifan lays awake for some time, too tired to sleep and still thinking about the work he needs to finish. He could sneak out of bed, now; Chanyeol's already snoring softly and mumbling against his shoulder, but if his boyfriend woke up to him gone, drastic measures would probably be taken. Chanyeol isn't above forcing him to drink night-time cold medicine, which always makes him groggy in the morning, because by the time it would knock him out, he wouldn't get a full eight hours, anyway.

It's best, he ultimately decides, to just lie there and wait for the Sandman.

Chanyeol breathes deeply and reaches across Yifan for something, still sound asleep. He offers up his hand after Chanyeol s around a bit, and that seems to appease him; he sighs, sort of nuzzles his face more comfortably against his arm so his chin is on Yifan's shoulder, and relaxes once again into sleep.

He's really cute when he's sleeping, Yifan thinks. Chanyeol's always cute, actually, and—again— he may be a little biased, having dated him for so long and pining over him for a while before that, but for all Chanyeol's height and gangliness—traits Yifan shares, a match made in tall-man heaven that provides advantageous kissing altitude—he's soft. Long eyelashes, calloused fingertips from guitar strings but otherwise pleasantly smooth, warm hands, and a mouth just the right shape and size for giving and receiving kisses add to Chanyeol's natural charm and attractive personality. He's so perfect, even with a bony that often seems to be trying its best to gouge divots out of Yifan's thighs.

Work finally pushed back in his mind, Yifan turns his head to kiss the end of Chanyeol's nose, squeezes his fingers, and closes his eyes for some much needed rest.

Unfortunately, morning comes all too soon. The curtains hang open enough that the fresh sunshine rests right on Yifan's face like an cat. It saves them both from the shrieking of his alarm, at least, which he turns off as soon as he untangles himself from his clingy barnacle of a boyfriend.

His morning routine goes quicker than usual in his haste to use the gained time to finish the work he left last night. In his focused state of mind, he doesn't hear Chanyeol roll out of bed, onto the floor, shuffle to the shower, or even start making breakfast.

A particularly loud spit of hot oil in a pan shoots the ballooning anticipation of completing his work, and Yifan wakes up to awareness just as a large plate—ordinarily a serving platter—of bacon and eggs pushes his laptop aside.

"You are really embracing the Western ideals of breakfast."

"It's a hazard of dating a foreigner," Chanyeol replies. He sets a mug of coffee beside the plate and nudges at Yifan's knee until he uncrosses his legs. "You're making breakfast an actual thing. Rice almost seems weird to eat before noon, now." Comfortably perched on Yifan's lap, Chanyeol sips his own coffee with an arm around Yifan's neck. "My poor grandmother will fall over when that day comes. At least my parents are more open to it."

"They also make money off the idea, with more people eating bakery things aside from cake."

"Cake's good for breakfast, too."

"That is a true Western idea."

"I like it," Chanyeol declares. He stabs a crispy piece of bacon into an egg and coats the end with sunny yellow yolk. "Maybe I should make rice, too, though, because I'm still hungry after eating just this."

"You'll have high cholesterol and get fat. My lap can only hold so much."

With his mouth full, Chanyeol can only frown and whine his offense, smacking Yifan's shoulder with the back of his hand.

They both know how comical they look. Among their friends, they're easily the tallest, although a couple of the younger guys are pretty close. With Yifan's not-so-secret love of cute things, most everyone thought he'd go for a much smaller partner and positively fawn over them. Instead, he approached Chanyeol after one basketball practice, and Chanyeol asked him out while practically tying his fingers into apprehensive knots and laughing anxiously.

Somewhere along the way, Chanyeol developed the habit of sitting on his lap. First, it was kicking his feet up onto Yifan's legs, then draping his legs over Yifan's thighs, sitting closer and closer until he just sat squarely on his lap. Yifan never minded; he likes Chanyeol on his lap, pure-intentioned and not.

"Why do you sit on me so much?" he asked once. "You're like the biggest lapdog."

"Does it bother you?" Yifan shook his head and laced his fingers behind Chanyeol's back. "I like it. It's comfy and makes me feel safe. I like how you hold me; I don't feel like I'm as big as I am? You're the perfect size for me..." His face got exceedingly redder, the more he talked, but Yifan kept his expression neutral and interested until he couldn't fight the elated smile.

They're big, bold, beautiful, and match perfectly. Step for step, Yifan and Chanyeol keep pace with one another and their lifestyles. Chanyeol's an artist—a musician—and Yifan's a contractor—an artist-lover.

Yifan catches Chanyeol around his waist before he can get to his feet. "Where're you going?"

He actually looks a little sheepish, holding a piece of bacon for Yifan to take with his teeth. "To make more. I kind of ate everything while you were daydreaming." He pushes Yifan's hands lightly and makes to stand again, but Yifan pulls him back.

"It's alright; it can wait." His coffee is probably already cold, but it can be microwaved.

"You sure?" Chanyeol frowns a little. "You can get kind of grumpy when you don't eat."

Yifan shrugs and hugs Chanyeol's waist, sitting back and drawing his boyfriend with. "I'm comfy right now."

"You're comfy?"

"Yeah." Yifan smiles his gummy smile that Chanyeol finds charming. "I like holding you." His laptop runs its screensaver, showing a slideshow of photos he'd uploaded from his phone. Most are of Chanyeol.

"I've trained you well." Chanyeol grins and kisses him. It tastes like coffee and bacon.

Yifan can finish his work at the office.