"Get up, then," he says, and shoves at Jon's shoulder to roll him onto his side so that Alejandro can stand, dragging him with. And then he laughs, "Where's your bedroom?"

Because he was of course ready to just barrel forward, but-- oh hey, no idea where he is. Later when they can breathe, when everything isn't so frantic and painfully tender and new-old-new-again, he'll look around this house. He'll soak up every detail and quirk and love it, from organization to laundry to environmentally unfriendly lightbulbs; whatever, anything, everything.

But now. He just wants him.