Chris didn't remember how they made it out of the shower.
He remembered warm water sliding over his back, Dax's arms still around him because his legs were refusing to operate as anything other than damp decorative accessories, and the vague sensation of being carried with ease he found deeply offensive in theory but was far too exhausted to protest in practice.
Now, he was on the bed. Horizontal. Barely conscious.
A very expensive towel had been thrown over him like an afterthought, half covering his hips and one thigh, the rest abandoned in messy folds. His hair was still damp. His breathing hadn't fully settled. His entire body felt like someone had unplugged him from reality and then plugged him back in with reversed polarity.
The bond was a warm hum at the base of his spine, curling lazily around his ribs like it was purring.
