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The night is never quiet, this far into town - but it’s soft, in its own way. The occasional car passing by on the empty roads, lazily flicking lights across the far wall for a stretch before it turns away again. Bright stars glint against a dark, clear sky, and every once in a while he hears the shuffle of footsteps in the apartments around them.
The night air is cool against his flushed skin, and he catches the moment the breathing behind him speeds to wakefulness - a catch to his throat that Mason regrets instantly, even if Dom’s caught sight of him well before it could lead to actual panic.
When he looks back, Dom is stretching beautifully - pushing aside the comforter in favor of splaying across the sheets in a way that immediately has Mason’s throat going dry, all dark skin and a soft smile. There’s a glint to his eyes when he settles back down, like he knows exactly the effect he has on Mason - probably does, for all Mason never shuts the hell up about it. “What’re you doing up?” He asks, voice raspy still with sleep.
He shrugs, dragging a hand through his hair and sparing a glance out the window again, “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Mm…come here?” Mason’s across the room before the question’s out, all too easily swayed by that reaching hand. Dom catches his hand as soon as he’s close, threading their fingers together and tugging him that last little way back onto the bed. Why had Mason left again?
Settling back down next to Dom, tangling their legs together, it’s hard not to notice the absolute fascination Dom holds his hand with, both hands cradling his one, touch feather light and sending shivers down Mason’s spine. “What’s on your mind, handsome?” he asks, voice low and melting into the narrow space between them.
A yawn is almost all he gets - “It’s nothing.” But he keeps ahold of his hand, curling into Mason’s space - and though sleep doesn’t find Mason the rest of the night, he finds he doesn’t want to get back up until the morning chases them both out of bed.
It takes a while for Mason to notice - or at least, to notice this specifically. They’re always in each other’s space these days, he feels justified in not necessarily picking up on one thing in particular. But everytime they’re together, Dom’s hand finds his, using it to gently tug him this way and that, or to just…hold. If they’re sitting together, his hand is threaded in Dom’s, where it’s hanging over his shoulder. If they’re walking close, without fail their hands are together and Mason can’t remember when that happened. Hell, even in passing, if his hand’s on Dom, Dom’s hand is on his, even if only for a moment.
Another quiet night in Dom’s apartment - but he hadn’t made it to the window this time, hand caught as it was between Dom’s - and he hadn’t felt right, pulling away. So, instead, he sits on the edge of the bed, watching the stars pass by and wonders.
“I can hear you thinking.” Is the muttered reaction he gets, just as the sky starts to bruise purple and pink.
“No you can’t.” Dom squeezes his hand for that and Mason glances down at their entwined fingers - remembers he’s the one who grabbed Dom’s hand tonight - wonders when he started reaching back.
“I can hear you glaring?”
“That makes even less sense.”
“You gonna make me ask?”
“You gonna say what you mean?” He gets a huffed laugh for that, even as Dom pushes himself up to sit next to him, cradling his hand in his lap now and leaning against his shoulder.
“Okay, I deserved that. What’s wrong?”
Mason frowns, reaching up with his free hand to brush Dom’s hair away from his face. Wrong’s not the right word. “It’s not wrong just…” he growls softly, shuffling it over in his head. Dom stays quiet, just watching him out of the corners of his eyes, running his thumb over Mason’s knuckles. “Just. That. You do that a lot. Why?” He finally spits out, gesturing to where their hands are, but making no move to get his back.
Dom frowns slightly, glancing down - piecing together what Mason’s saying and what he’s not. “Holding your hand?”
“Yes, that.” That, and everything else - he knows his face is doing something from the way Dom’s eyes suddenly light up, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth - an infuriating, knowing smile that Mason wants to kiss so, so badly.
“I like it - being so close to you. And getting to be the one who gets to hold your hand.” It’s a dumb answer - the butterflies in his stomach can knock it off. “Is that alright?”
Mason eyes him for a long moment, mulling it over - before using the hand still wrapped in Dom’s to push him back on the bed, chasing after him to finally steal that kiss, “Yeah, handsome - that’s just fine.”