Nate lies in bed and stares out the window at the morning rain.

"It never stops raining in Portland," he observes.

"Can't rain forever," Eliot says sleepily, snaking a muscular arm around Nate's waist. He leans closer, his breath hot as he rests his head against Nate's shoulder.

Nate runs his fingers through Eliot's hair. He sees the prodding, Eliot's unsubtle desire to make him look at the world with a little more optimism, a little more hope.

He should probably be resentful, but he must just be too tired for that.

Nate turns to kiss Eliot on the lips, slow, heavy. "I guess having a reason to stay inside isn't the worst thing in the world."

Eliot grins and kisses him again, rougher, playful, hands wandering up Nate's chest. "Now you're talkin'."