A/N: Here's a little extra that takes place during the newest chapter (41) of Problem Child. :)
"I think your dumb brothers know," Casey groused without heat as he pulled on borrowed pajamas, glad the T-shirt could muffle his voice and hide the way his face was still burning.
"They're your dumb brothers, too," Don said mildly from his side of the room, and he sounded largely unruffled, the slightest bit amused. "Are you really gonna sleep over there?"
"Feels weird to take Leo's bed," Casey admitted, giving the bed in question a dubious look. "But I can't just – y'know – with you. Not with your brothers asleep right across the hall. What if they come bouncing in here in the morning and find us cuddling?"
"They won't," Don said softly, in the tone that meant either his feelings were hurt, or he was trying to spare Casey's. One was less okay than the other, and the few moments Casey stood still and tried to figure it out was all the time it took for Don to take pity on him. "Just come over here," he added, lifting the corner of his comforter in clear invitation, looking sweet and soft in a threadbare thermal shirt and faded boxers. "You're being an idiot."
Okay, Casey thought, crossing the room and sliding into bed next to Don, arguing briefly over blankets and pillows and who got the drafty side by the window. Okay, maybe he was.
Because it was the day of Christmas Eve, and he wasn't home alone. His brothers were still up at five in the morning, talking quietly and laughing just down the hall. The whole apartment smelled like gingerbread and sugar cookies, and the early morning sky outside was winter gray and thick with snow, and Casey was impossibly warm.
Which probably had less to do with the two inches of blanket Donnie had surrendered, and more to do with the strong arm wrapped, with purpose and affection, tight around his waist.