Tamaki, of course, insisted on commoner's style sleep overs. He'd drag the blankets from the perfectly made up guest bedroom in Kyouya's house, and lay them out on the floor by Kyouya's bed -ensuring that when Tamaki decided that it was time for them both to lay down, he'd have to step on him to get out of his bed. Kyouya flatly refused to sleep on the floor with the other boy.
Thing was, Tamaki was a morning person. He woke annoyingly early, bright and happy to start the day. This also meant that he got tired as early as 9:30, and though he'd make a valiant effort to keep himself awake, he'd have a hard time making it past 10:30. Kyouya could keep him up, if he tried. Kyouya could pester and key up Tamaki for another hour, and then he'd be awake until 2. And, oh what hilarious conversations that would induce. Tamaki was one of those silly tired people. He'd spend hours just giggling and flapping his arms at Kyouya, while Kyouya enjoyed just laughing at him. This would go on until a night maid, or the security would tentatively knock, hearing the gasping, unfamiliar sounds of laughter from this room, and poke their head in. This would only set both of them off again.
Eventually, Tamaki would flag, and he'd crawl into his nest of bedclothes. At this point, if he asked, Kyouya was fifty/fifty on joining Tamaki down on the floor in his own pile, but he'd always regret it in the morning if he did. They'd lie there, and the quiet would stretch out, but every once in a while, Tamaki would say something...usually deep or thoughtful, and Kyouya would ponder in the dead of night what was it about this stupid boy that moved him so much. They'd speak of their innermost thoughts, dreams and memories. Tamaki would speak on his mother, and leaving France, and his fears that he'd never find a place here in Japan. Kyouya would refrain from replying that he had a place! It was no use to say so now; Tamaki wouldn't remember much in the morning. Kyouya too, would talk. He'd say how much he wanted more in life, his ambitions and plans. His own fears, too precious for anything but to be whispered in the darkness, into the ears of his best friend.
Eventually, Tamaki would drop off, and if Kyouya was on the floor with him, he would look over, and smile for a moment before sleeping as well. If he was in his own bed, Kyouya would roll away from him, and continue to ponder the strange musings of midnight, meaningful but elusive until thought blended into dream.