Charles was a fan of action movies, sure, but there were some other movies he liked. Back at the base, he and the Bukowski twins along with a few others would occasionally come over to one of their apartments to hang out. Be it chattering on about some new mission, complaining about practice, or talking about the latest news, it would be a real get together. But one night came the night that would change him forever. As a joke, Liam had brought over a rom com his wife was obsessed with. They, of course, laughed it off and poked fun at the plot and characters, and Charles laughed along. But honestly, all teasing aside, it had been a really nice movie. Ever since, Charles had been known to catch himself watching a rom com or two while sitting alone.

Charles wasn't the competitive type. He was the cautious type. Knowing Ellie hadn't been around them for months and hadn't had a roommate in almost two years or regular friend dates, he knew what was going to happen the moment he fell asleep. He'd locked up the markers, pens, and anything else he thought Ellie might be able to get her hands on, but she was like a bloodhound who could pick locks.

"You are such a child!" Henry grumbled one morning last year, scrubbing off his face in the kitchen sink.

"But you love me~!" she hummed, giggling to herself as she messed with her phone. Henry had caught the action and it turned into a chase as Henry had tried to snatch her phone and Ellie had defended herself.

By the time the second movie was nearing its climax, Henry was out cold. Charles felt a little sorry for him; after all, he'd curled up a little around himself without a blanket. Unfortunately, Charles' ability to get up and fetch a blanket was a little hampered. With Henry sitting in the middle of them, there was no couch arm to lay on in the weirdest, most uncomfortable position possible. Instead, he leaned on him, Henry's head on Charles' shoulder and one hand loosely holding onto his sleeve. His chest expanded and contracted in long, gentle breaths.

Charles considered moving him, but the thought of him waking up confronted him. He'd become a surprisingly jumpy man, and when he woke up, he was awake. When he was awake, he was looking around, quiet and stiff as a deer, as if expecting someone to jump out of the shadows at him. It was a surprising contrast from his younger years, when Henry would fall asleep on Charles and refuse to take Charles' struggles as a signal to wake up.

Ellie, who had just come back from the bathroom, looked at Henry and then Charles. Then, a Cheshire Cat grin spread across her features. She whispered, "Is he asleep already?"

Charles signed, "Yeah. He fell asleep right after you left."

Ellie narrowed her eyes. Charles repeated the line. She nodded and responded in a slightly slower manner in sign language, "He looked tired. You need help escaping?"

Charles shook his head. "He might wake up, and he needs sleep. Hey, if you don't mind, there are some blankets in the closet? Could you grab one please?"

Ellie muffled a snicker. "Okay."

"Thanks!"

Ellie gave him the thumbs up and walked to his closet where, on the shelf above the clothes pole, was a monstrous pile of neatly folded and squished blankets. She managed to wrestle one out, only almost bringing down the entire pile twice. She draped the deep green comforter over them. "Now, hold still a second."

"Ellie!" Charles couldn't help the quiet whine.

Ellie took out her phone. "C'mon! Smile!"

Charles gave her a disappointed, only slightly exasperated look.

She giggled and wrinkled her nose. "Oh, fine. Fight me off, why doncha. Good night, Charles." Charles hummed in response. With that, she turned off the movie and went for the cot in the closet.

Charles slowly let himself lay against the back of the couch and tipped his head back. Eh, sitting on the couch wasn't the most comfortable way to fall asleep, but he'd manage, right?

His thoughts were interrupted as Henry's breathing changed. He twitched his sleep and mumbled something unintelligible. His eyebrows wrinkled a little as if… confused? Or was that fear? Anger? It was something unpleasant, that was for sure. Charles raised his arm and ran his hand over Henry's back, smoothing out his ruffled shirt in the process. He shifted onto his side and snuggled into the pilot, burying his face in his neck. Slowly, he relaxed, and his breathing evened out.

…

Okay, so, he should be going to sleep. He needed to get up in the morning, after all. It's hard to get up in the morning without sleeping, or just sleeping for a few hours. It wasn't good for him, not for anyone. But oooooooh no, no, no. He wanted to fall asleep and thus he wasn't allowed to do so. It was probably because he wasn't in his bed. Right, exactly. It had always been difficult for him to sleep on a couch or cot or nest of blankets on the floor. But it was fine! It wasn't impossible! Well, Henry's weight leaning on him and staying in a specific place and position was definitely going to make him sore in the morning, so that thought pestered him. But Charles felt the gentle beating of Henry's heart on his side and quiet, warm breath on his neck and collar. That was something he wasn't used to at all. It wasn't bad, of course! Just weird? W-well, what was weird about that, Henry and Charles had been friends for years! And Henry always passed out first. Especially as children, Henry would turn Charles into a pillow since Ellie would always push him off. So, add that to the pile of excuses he could give for not cooking breakfast.

Actually! Scratch that! Ellie would probably make a big deal of it. Though, maybe it would be worse if she didn't. If Ellie wasn't going to be teasing Charles or Henry, she'd be completely serious. When she was completely serious, it was because she made her mind up about something that she thought was especially important to them. This wasn't something that was that important, and Charles knew she would know that, but what if she didn't? If she didn't, she'd try and encourage Charles to do… something. He didn't know what it would be, but she would imagine something because she always does. If Charles told Ellie that he couldn't fall asleep because of Henry, Henry would get really guilty, and that would just kill him. He hated seeing Henry guilty or upset about something. For some reason, he tended to be more sensitive about it now a days. Something was keeping him up, making him feel guilty for some reason. Did Henry do something, and they forgot what it was?

Oh, but no. No, that couldn't be. Sure, Henry would sometimes forget when something important was happening, but they understood and never held it against him. Or maybe he just wasn't feeling right? That might be possible. Henry could just be feeling a little stressed because of the move and being on his own. Yeah, it was probably stress. Hey, some time away from it all should help, which is probably why he looked less guilty tonight!

Charles smiled and shut his eyes. Yeah, life was probably just weird for him right now. But Charles would always be there for Henry. Ellie, too, definitely. They were a team!

Henry's dream had been a rather wild rollercoaster. He didn't really remember much at all, as reality now peaked its head into his sluggish mind. He knew there was fear in the beginning, but it was not there for long. At one point, he could feel himself starting to wake up, but he ignored it and went back to sleep.

Now, he toed the line between dreams and the waking world. As much as he needed to get up to greet the day, he just… didn't want to. He was comfortable, warm… and he probably should wake up in case Ellie did something to him and he'd need to go through her phone and delete any pictures she took in the middle of the night. She thought she changed her password, but Henry didn't need a password to get into a phone. It was just a formality.

Henry stretched as far as he could, shifting the thick jungle green blanket that had been laid over him.

He heard some shuffling further into the apartment.

The small noise, as well as the muffled sound of Teflon rubbing against Teflon and metal, woke him enough to move. Henry opened his eyes and propped himself up with his elbow. "Hhhhh… oh. Ahhhh, I fell asleep during the movie, didn't I. Did Ellie draw on me?"

He heard a chuckle from their chipper, morning person best friend. "Nope~!"

Henry bit his hand to keep from yawning and got up. "Thanks for fighting her off, Charles. You're my champ." Without consciously thinking about it, he folded his blanket.

Henry found Charles in the kitchen, whipping quite a few eggs in a container with milk and shreds of cheese. A tube of sausage was next to him as well as different vegetables and plants. Two pans were on the stove and a spatula and star-shaped cutter were nearby, resting on a long, narrow plate-like thing in the shape of a helicopter. Ah, yes. Henry and Ellie had schemed long and hard on what to get him on his twentieth birthday. Their devious minds had concocted many a gift, but eventually they landed on something simpler–the commissioned ceramic thing because they knew he liked cooking. What was the thing called again…? Ah, well.

"So." Henry's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "So, what are you making?"

Charles didn't turn around. "Oh, omelets and sausage! Is that okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just… never made omelets before."

Charles glanced back at him with a grin. "Do you want to learn how?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah. So, what's that?"

"Okay, well, I like cheese, so I usually sprinkle in a little cheese with the eggs as I'm whipping them." Charles stepped to the side to show off the container filled with a gold and white marbled liquid. Thick yellow specks flecked the inside. "When you're making the eggs, milk or cream should go in the batter. That'll make them fluffy and malleable. Otherwise, when you go to fold it, the omelet will crack."

"Okay. Milk or cream and some shredded cheese go in the eggs," Henry summarized.

"Yep!" Charles glanced at the pan. He cut off a slice of butter from a cold stick and dropped it in. Immediately, it hissed back at him and slid away. Charles picked up the spatula and played with it for a few seconds, spreading the melting butter over the entire pan. "Butter, olive oil, coconut oil, or cooking spray can grease the pan. I like using butter, but any of those will work. If the eggs stick–" Charles poured some of the egg batter into the pan as he talked. "–then you'll end up with scrambled eggs, and that's not good." The egg mixture started to bubble around the edges as it spread. Charles blocked the edges with his spatula, allowing the edges to cook and stay in place.

"How do you know how much milk to put in?"

Charles sliced sausage patties from the tube and tossed one of the four in the pan. He immediately went to work hacking at it with the star cutter. "Practice. You just need to judge it correctly. Too much and it becomes too liquid-y. Too little and the milk won't do its job and the omelet will crack."

Henry tipped his head. "What's that about?"

"Filling. Oh! What do you want on your omelet?" Charles flipped the half-cooked eggs over and spread a variety of ingredients–most green, though there was some cheese–onto half of it. "I have lettuce, cheese, spinach, broccoli, and I think I can chop up some celery and carrots." He rambled on a list as he cut the sausage some more. Charles interrupted himself. "Oh! Right, and here, it should just barely be cooked enough to touch without spilling or splitting. Take half of it under the spatula and bwoop!" Charles stuck his spatula under it and flopped it over like a book. Indeed, it was barely darker than yellow and all the ingredients he'd spread inside were hidden. "Once the bottom's cooked, you'll need to flip it over to cook the top. That way both sides cook, but the filling cooks into it as well." To accent his point, Charles flipped the entire thing over effortlessly. The bottom was a nice brownish gold color.

Henry blinked. "How did you do that? Just flip it over and none of it spilled out?"

"Practice!" Charles hummed. "You need to know when to flip it, how much filling should be in there, and just learn how to do it well. It took me a while, let me tell you." Charles plated the omelet as well as the now extremely small bits of cooked sausage. Another smaller bit of butter melted, an omelet was poured, and three sausage patties sizzled in the other pan. "So, what did you want on your omelet again?"

"Ahhhhh, well, you got sausage and cheese?"

"Yep! Hmm… gotta have more than protein for a good meal. How about lettuce or spinach? They disappear into the eggs and you can't really taste them if you hide them well enough. I also have broccoli, which shredded broccoli is good with eggs."

Suddenly, Henry felt like a kid again, Dad Reginald urging him to eat some sort of vegetable with his meals. "Aaaah, yeah, how about the shredded lettuce?"

"Coming right up!" The pilot prodded the sausage patties with his spatula a few times to move them around.

Henry jumped as he heard Ellie behind him. "What's for breakfast, Charlie?"

Charles said, "Omelets and sausage. I also have some raw fruits and veggies on the side. Oh! Like apples! Got a few of those. Er–one. I ate the others. But you can have the last one."

"Nah." Ellie bit back a yawn. Her hair was still messy, but in the way short hair can be as in she could still walk into work and look mildly acceptable as she was. Well, her reflexes weren't going to be sharp enough, probably, after just waking up. "Good morning, by the way."

"Morning~!" Charles hummed.

"Morning," Henry responded.

"How'd you sleep?" asked the pilot, flipping over the omelet and the sausages.

"As well as I could manage," Ellie admitted. "I mean, better than a lot of the hotels I been to, let me tell you. A good environment, quiet, two dorks sleeping together on a couch, and the smell of eggs in the morning."

Charles chuckled, sprinkling on the ingredients Henry had requested. "That's probably because you don't have a roommate or partner or something. What do you want on your omelet, Ellie?"

Henry looked between them. "What?"

"Oh, I like eggs," Ellie said. "Broccoli and sausage on mine, if you will, Charlie."

"Sure!"

Henry cut in, "N-no, that first part."

"Charles' place is quiet and look at these decorations," Ellie hummed, unable to stifle the crooked grin on her face.

Charles said, "You fell asleep." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "You fell asleep on the couch. I just got Ellie to leave you alone."

Ellie raised her eyebrows, and her maddening grin softened into a smile he couldn't quite understand. Henry, even more confused if that were possible, groaned and rubbed his eyes. "It's too early for this." He decided to go to the refrigerator, then. "Hey Charles?"

"Yeah, Henry! Just take whatever you want. But not the soda, that's an after-noon drink." Charles flashed Henry a surprisingly stern look before smiling and going back to his cooking.

Ellie chuckled. "Why are you so particular about that?"

"Because soda's an after-noon drink," Charles replied simply. "You can have juice in the morning, but the seriously sugary stuff is only for lunch and beyond."

Ellie thought for a moment. "Technically, if you think about it, that would mean that if you didn't sleep, breakfast would be past noon, right?"

"No, it'd be past midnight," Charles corrected.

As the two debated the technicalities of "past noon," Henry poured himself a good glass of orange juice. Normally he'd make coffee, but Charles didn't have a coffee machine. Which, honestly, was kinda weird, and Ellie agreed, but neither of them confronted Charles about it. After all, Ellie kept her coffee machine in her bedroom, and Henry technically didn't have one personally, but the Toppat Clan had a few. Besides, Charles was making them breakfast. The word "complaining" had no right to be in his household.

Henry poured them a few glasses. He wondered how much longer this would go on, how much more time they had together. Everyone slipped. One day, he may end up in prison for theft or trespassing. What would they think about that? Would they want to be his friend after that? Charles was a government pilot and Ellie was on a technically legal career path. Would they want to associate with a criminal? They knew about his obsession with shiny objects and tendency to pick up things, perhaps without his own knowledge. But that was a character quirk. Being a Toppat wasn't a quirk–especially since he was adopted into, and raised as, one.

Henry mentally shook himself and turned to Ellie, who was yet to give up the debate, and Charles, who'd plated the last omelet and brought the dishes to the sink. Ellie took over, allowing Charles to put away the ingredients, who compromised on a "agree to disagree" basis. Henry could worry about that bridge once he got to it. Right now, miles away, he should just sit down and enjoy the scenery.

"C'mon, Henry!" Ellie called. "Where are those drinks?"

"Here!" Henry called back, gathering the three full cups in his arms and making his way to the table. Charles cringed, but relaxed once Henry–and the glasses–made it safely to the table.