Don't wait up, Random had said. So he didn't because he's determined that this baby won't interfere with the way he normally lives, as much as that's possible obviously. So he'd gone to bed when he normally does.
Sleeping had been a bit more difficult. Haven's completely silent, completely dark outside when the house lights are switched off. But he still kept thinking that he heard Random coming back, carrying something that's bound to be screaming...every time it's just his imagination. He must have dozed off sometime though, because suddenly it's morning - and then he's worried because the house is silent and the other side of the bed is empty and there's no sign of his lover.
He gets up to investigate and checks the nursery first. Somehow he's not surprised to see that Random did come home but hasn't been able to leave the baby. He'd think it was sweet, if he was prone to such whimsy.
His memories of last night are fuzzy, the way they can be when you're so tired you can hardly stand up. He'd dozed off a couple of times in the bath but that's his own fault, he'd been trying to relax muscles that have been taxed to breaking point. He remembers the wincing at deep burns on the skin of his hands and parts of his neck, where the rags he'd used to cover himself had been pulled away by movement and the sun had got in. It had hurt, but not enough to stop him falling asleep the second he'd got into bed.
He'd slept for about fifteen hours, it's afternoon when he wakes up. Turning over to check the time brings a hiss of pain at the stiffness in his muscles, but he's not going back to sleep. Too hungry and there's a definite need for more to drink. So he heads for another shower because he feels like he'll never get rid of the sand and dust, then he wanders - rather haltingly due to aches - downstairs in just a pair of jeans, to search for food and hopefully find Random.
Tired though he is, he's happy. It's quite a feeling to know that there'll be no aging for another five hundred years. Everything that had happened on Earth seems to take rather a backseat to that.
The drive down yesterday had been quiet, but not awkward. They're rarely awkward with each other. The house, which Ramon hasn't seen in about forty years, is actually much as he remembers it - old, rambling, a little frayed around the edges. The front is reached by a long driveway edged by thick trees, the back opens up on to a beach. It's not a private one per say, but there are only five other houses in view along this back stretch and not many people in sight on the sand, despite the heat.
Things were unpacked and the evening had passed easily. Today, Ramon had gone for a long walk on his own, telling Random he needed some time. And now...now he's back and things are a little different. He doesn't want them to be but they are and he's terribly afraid that everything's about to be turned upside down.
But for the time being he just wants to relax, let this day wind down quietly. The midday heat is out in full force and he sighs with relief when he walks back over the cool flagstones of the kitchen, wondering idly where his lover is as he fills a glass of water.
The morning had taken quite some sleeping off. But at least it was good sleep, comfortable and close. Ramon had woken up after a few hours, ravenous and dying for a coffee, so he'd come downstairs to try and put something together.
Needless to say, attempts are going badly. But he's got a door into the bar now, so if he burns this batch of toast as well, he'll be wandering through to let her provide. At the moment he's just watching the toaster and wondering where he's going wrong, while hoping Random doesn't wake up in the meantime.