The few moments of disorientation upon waking were nothing new. With as many times as he'd changed beds in the last week, it had become the routine, in fact, and would probably continue for another week or so, until he got used to the new place.

This morning, though, it took a few extra seconds to figure out where he was, because he wasn't in his own room. The night before came flooding back and he turned, finding the spot in bed next to him empty. Sitting up, Bobby looked around John's room and smiled a little. Yeah, last night had gone better than he'd hoped, even.

And then his brief reverie was shattered by John bellowing from downstairs. Bobby chuckled softly and climbed out of bed, crossing to his room and grabbing a pair of grey sweatpants to pull on before descending the stairs. "Good morning to you, too," he said as John came into view. "Uh. Whatever you're having is fine. Coffee?"