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A movie was being played on the TV. It was something starting with an M, David thinks. It was a longer movie than he had originally thought. He checks his phone; 1:03AM, it says on the lockscreen. Huh. That. . . time passes fast. It's a wonder he hasn't passed out yet, he usually sleeps at around. . . 10PM, on good days.
Speaking of sleeping, he hasn't heard—
A weight slowly lays down on his left shoulder. He turns, and is greeted with a sight for sore eyes.
Max's face smushed up against his shoulder as he sleeps with peaceful eyes. This is the calmest he has ever seen his kid. A part of him wants to snap a picture, for memory's sake, but another just wants to lay here. The quiet buzzing of a movie droning, and the slow breathing of both him and Max are all he could hear in the background.
"Yeah," He thinks, rearranging the boy leaning on him to lay more comfortably, tucking him closer in with an arm slung around his shoulders, "This is nice."
He closes his eyes, content to be laying with his son on the couch in their living room.
In the morning, he gets woken up by a figure shuffling closer into his side. It stops for a bit, having gotten comfortable, and he almost goes back to sleep, before he gets pushed away by said figure.
"DAVID— WHAT THE HELL?!?!" Max is glaring all he could, having just woken up, but a tint of embarrassment colours his cheeks.
As David gets shouted at in the asscrack of dawn by his beloved son, he beams internally.
(One point for him, zero points for the asshole parents he came from.)