There’s a crowd of people at the train station, managers and actors and writers and fans, all with luggage and bags and searching for people and cars, all coming home from Comic Con. You can tell Dylan is exhausted as soon as you see him, waiting against the side of the car, waving at Holland and smiling back at Daniel while Dylan hugs Posey one last time before walking over, his bag slung over his shoulder as he approaches you. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, the stubble scratching your cheek as he kisses you. He doesn’t speak, choosing instead to hug you, burying his face in your neck and sighing happily, the words passing through with his actions. “Hi, I missed you a lot, I had a really good time but I’m glad to be home, I’m exhausted.” You kiss the side of his head before he lets go, walking around the car to pop the boot, chucking his bag before shutting it and continuing to walk around to slide into the passenger seat. You hop in as well, starting the car and letting Dylan fiddle with the radio before he settles back down, curling into the seat, eyelids heavy as you pull out of the car park. “So are we going to save all the crazy stories for after you’ve slept for a week?” He huffs out a laugh, reaching for your hand and entwining his fingers with yours. “I’m driving here,” you protest, not that you pull away, taking his hand with yours as you flick the indicator on. “You had a good time though? Last question, I promise. Then you can sleep.” Dylan hums quietly, yawning, and shifting a bit, “Yeah, I had an awesome time. It gets better every year.” You glance over to where his eyes have closed, words slurring with sleep. “I’m sure. You want me to turn the radio off so you can sleep?” He waves a hand, “Nah, s’okay.” You raise his hand to your mouth, kissing his knuckles, “Missed you, Dyl.” His fingertips brush your cheek in return before your hands settle back down on the dash. “Missed you more.”
You wait until the last minute to wake him up, taking his bag inside before opening the passenger door and shaking him gently. “Dylan. Wake up, babe. We’re home.” He stirs, rubbing his eyes, legs stretching out to kick the floor. “Already?” “Yeah, you slept the whole forty five minutes.” He peers up at you, gaze hazy, and smiles, movements slow as he gets out of the car. “M’tired,” he explains as you follow him inside. “I think I got that by the fact that you went straight to sleep.” “What’s the time?” You peek into the kitchen to check the oven clock while he waits in the hallway, running a hand through his hair. “Four, but you can go to bed now if you want. I’ll wake you for dinner.” “No,” Dylan whines, smirking as he reaches for you, dragging you along with him towards the bedroom. “Want you to come and nap with me.” “I need to make dinner,” you laugh, but he smiles into your temple, opening the door and immediately flopping onto the bed, pulling you with him. “We’ll order pizza.” “What if we don’t wake up until three a.m. or something?” “Set an alarm.” “You have a solution for everything, don’t you.” He just grins, crawling further up the bed before settling down, pulling you across the mattress to press against his body, his hand sliding up your back and beneath your shirt, resting just beneath your shoulder blades, warm and comfortable. “Stay with me,” he murmurs, eyes closed and breath whispering over your forehead. “Always.”
