Teal.

The sight of the familiar building he called home had never looked so good, Julian decided as the cab rolled to a halt. With a smile and a tip he slipped out, carefully removing his bag from the trunk before making his way hastily inside. One thing that hadn’t changed since he left was the biting cold. He wanted nothing more than to retreat to his loft, don a nice pair of sweats and sleep for a day or so. Switching time zones so frequently was an exhausting affair.

The lobby seemed typically quiet, except for the strange blond man hovering at the counter, seemingly enraptured in an argument with Tracy the receptionist. He cast her a pitying smile as he hit the lift, pressing the button as he rolled his neck. The idea of his own bed was such a relief in comparison to the nice—but stiff bed the hotel had provided for him. And sleeping on planes? That was a distant dream.

A sigh of relief left the actor as he hit his floor, a brisk walk to his door later he found himself in the entryway of his own apartment. Exhaustion seemed to roll over the man as he dropped his bag on the floor, peeling off his scarf and coat before making his way towards the living area and his bedroom. His steps came to a halt at the threshold; blinking, a small smile pulled at his lips as he gave his head a shake. How could he have forgotten?

A pile of blankets seemed to have taken up residence on his couch, as well as a shiny new laptop upon the coffee table before it. The blanket heap shift a bit, a soft exhale audible in the silent room. Slowly, Julian took a few steps forward, noting a few auburn curls protruding from one end of the cloth mass. At the other, a familiar grey pea coat was draped over the arm of the couch.

Well, at least now he knew why he hadn’t received a response to his text letting her know he had just touched down in London. Slowly, a tired smile pulled at his lips. At least she seemed to be getting a bit of peace. A quick glance around the living area and kitchen confirmed that the blankets and laptop aside, his loft was in the same state he’d left it. Julian glanced back at the cocoon she had wrapped herself in; no point in waking her, was there? He was tired as it was, so without a word the brunette slipped down the hall, being sure to quietly shut his bedroom door behind him. A quick change of sweats and a t-shirt and he was in his own bed, yawning as he pulled the covers up. Thank god for blackout curtains, he thought as the need for proper rest slowly enveloped him. It didn’t take long for the actor to find himself asleep on that cold, winter afternoon.

***

It seemed dull, at first, a few thuds he was able to mostly ignore in his sleeping state. But as he rolled over, placing a pillow over his head, the noises only seemed to persist. In fact, they became worse.

He waited a few moments, before a huff of frustration left him. Groggily, he wondered just what the hell that was. He wouldn’t have to wait long to get an answer. Somewhere the creak of a door could be heard, soon followed by loud voices from somewhere down the hall. One, all too familiar voice he realized. Marcus was here. And the other? Distinctly male, but otherwise unrecognizable. Hell. There was no point in trying to sleep, was there?

Julian moved the pillow from his head, heaving a sigh as he sat up. What a joy to come home to. Running a hand through his hair he begrudgingly pushed himself up and to the edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor with a grunt. Hard wood looked nice, but in winter it made an unpleasant companion for bare feet. The voices only continued as he opened the door to his room, slowly making his way down the hall.

“He’s got to be back, his plane landed five hours ago—“ Marcus cut himself off as the actor shuffled into the living area, an irritated expression gracing his features before he let out a yawn. A blond man stood over by the couch, tugging unsuccessfully at some of the disheveled blankets there.

“Emerson so help me—“ He grunted. A yankee in his apartment. Great.

“Marcus, what in the bloody hell is going on here? Who is this? And why in gods name are you two in my apartment when I’m trying to sleep.” His voice was scratchy, but the frustration was distinctly there. The blond man stopped, glancing in Julian’s direction for the first time. He was tall; almost awkwardly so; short, fair hair well kept. He used one had to push his square frames back up the bridge of his nose as he offered nothing but a disapproving look in the actor’s direction.

“Julian Giles I presume. It would be a pleasure if you didn’t just so happen to be hiding my renegade writer in your apartment when I’m trying to at least get the beginnings of a manuscript out of her.” His tone was clipped, and with the last few words he shot a glare down at the blanket, which had begun to shift ever so slightly. Reluctantly, a weary eyed Teal slowly stuck her head out from under the mass of blankets.

“You… are Satan in editor form. You are the writing devil and you won’t let me sleep without prodding me with your little pen trident and trying to force me to put words on a piece of paper in the early hours of the morning. I can’t even hide from you here—Did you put a tracking device on me or something?” She managed to produce her tirade with a groggy whine, reaching out to swat at the man without much hesitance. He took a little step back, making sure he was out of her reach.

“That’s why you had me bring your key over?” Marcus shouted. And Julian let out a groan, rubbing his temples. He wasn’t awake enough for this. All he had wanted was rest; and this? This was most certainly anything but.

“Can’t you just. Let me sleep and we do this later, Marcus? It’s been a long flight and I want a good proper sleep in my own bed. Without interruptions like this.” He waved a hand at the scene before him; all three had seemed to shut up at that point. The man he could only assume to be David Yorkshire straightened up, carefully smoothing out the front of his shirt as he glanced back down at the blanket heap.

“You heard the man, Emerson. Up. Let’s get out of his hair and let him rest—“

“Actually,” Julian cut him off, clearing his throat as he pressed a finger to his lips, before pointing at Teal. “She can stay. You two on the other hand, well. You know where the door is. And if you don’t, Marcus can certainly give you a hand.”

The silence that followed was only temporary, and he knew his words were about to stir up a bit of chaos. He took the brief reprieve in their words to make his way towards the door. Two steps away was when their protests started.

“Of all the ungrateful—“

“Julian who the bloody hell do you think you are, treating your agent like this—“

The obnoxious complaints of the editor and the agent continued up until Julian gave the door a decisive slam, heaving a sigh as he locked it for good measure. Slowly, the muffled voices outside of his flat faded, and he made his way back to his living room once more. Teal still had her head only slightly out of the blankets; blinking once or twice as she met his gaze.

“…I thought that was you, knocking at the door. I was too tired to um. Realize. I didn’t know you were back.”

He arched an eyebrow, a half-grin pulling at his lips. “So you’re how the two pests slipped into the apartment.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose—“ With a groan, she pulled one of the blankets over her head once more. And so he gave a small laugh.

“Kidding, Teal. Slightly. At least we can both catch a bit of rest now. Hopefully. If they don’t decide to come back.”

“Mh. I hope not.” Her reply was muffled through the fabric, and Julian couldn’t help but smile. Another yawn pulled from him as he moved closer, giving what he could only assume to be the top of her head a pat.

“There’s a guest bedroom down the hall, if you’d prefer to sleep there. While it’s a lovely couch, I must say, the guest bed gives it a run for it’s money.”

After a moment, she peeked her head out again. Julian was able to see the bags under her eyes once more; he found himself unable to fight the small frown that pulled at his lips.

“C’mon Teal. We both need some rest.” The man held out his hand, and after a moment, the girl shift her way out of the mass of blankets and accepted the assistance up. He kept a firm grip on her hand for a moment as she steadied herself; noting how soft her hand was before she very gently pulled it back.

Neither said another word as he led her down the short hall; opening the door to the room just before his own. He watched her slip in, and she offered a small smile before he quietly pulled the door closed behind her; it was their unspoken “goodnight” he supposed. With that, he turned to make his way back to his own room.

“Julian?”

The actor paused, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of her soft voice.

“…Thank you. For letting me stay.”

He smiled a bit, offering a slight not in response. “No problem, Teal. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll need you to hide me from Marcus in return.”