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Mitch comes home to find Scott curled up on his bed waiting for him

Mitch feels weary down to his very bones. Tired and achy and grimy in a way only air travel manages to accomplish. He feels like his soul is spread thin, every nerve ending overly sensitive and jangly. He's in desperate need of a shower and rest. Sleep if he's able, but time zones are a thing and he knows it's unlikely to come to him for another few hours as much as he longs for it. Home is tantalising close now, from the window of his uber he's starting to recognize landmarks and he feels the comforting tug of familiarity.

He leaves his suitcase at the top of the stairs--a task for tomorrow or even the day after--and stumbles down towards his bedroom, halting in the doorway to see Scott curled on his side on Mitch's bed, cradling one pillow to his chest, head resting on the other, his face relaxed in sleep. He looks impossibly serene and it calms Mitch just to be near him. To know he's here, waiting. He showers, hoping he won't wake Scott but unable bear the thought of attempting to sleep without the feeling of clean skin

When he returns to the bedroom Scott is in exactly the same position, undisturbed. He climbs onto the bed, pulls the pillow Scott's hugging gently away from his clutches and nestles his own body in its place. Scott murmurs, rousing momentarily to hold Mitch close, pressing his face against the back of his neck. This, more than anything else, soothes Mitch's frayed nerves, pulls him back together. He's home, finally.