Back at the apartment, Declan struggled to pack quickly, throwing his usually tidy and organized things into his duffel bag, ignoring the weapons and gear still sitting on the coffee-table. Aoba lagging behind had given him a few moments to sort it all out and really, he just wanted to throw himself into his bed, yank his covers over his head, and forget the whole afternoon. Tomorrow they'd be in space with a thousand distractions and he could go back to being the stupid oaf.

Stupid. So stupid.

Depending on when Aoba decided to show up he might see Declan cramming things into his bag, or find the man buried precisely as he intended, sheets and blanket pulled over his head like a massive child hiding from the boogeyman.