Five years later, New York City
Afternoon sun streams through the grimy windows, managing to strike Desmond straight in the eye. He groans, and tucks his head back into the cocoon of his covers.
Daisy giggles, and takes the mug. "All right, I'll let it slide. Other one for Sean?"
"He was here when I unlocked the place. He might not be sleeping again."
Daisy laughs, and waves him off. "We open in an hour, I don't wanna see your illegal ass down here."
He can't hear anything being moved in the back room, and so, out of old, ingrained habit, he moves into the shadows and sneaks quietly until he can see his brother.
Sean is leaning against a shelf, completely still. There's a half unpacked box beside him. He has deep bags under his eyes.
His knuckles are white where he is gripping the shelf.
Once Desmond can see Sean's shoulders loosen a little, he steps out. "Hey."
He leaves the coffee near Sean's hand, and sits on another box nearby. "Yeah, got woken by a call. They don't need me to stock tonight."
"Right." Sean hasn't believed that cover story, but they've had the argument so many times that he just lets it drop. "Thanks," he says, taking a sip of coffee.
"Sure." Desmond lets a silence hang between them, and tries not to long for the days when he used to want Sean to stop talking. "Daisy said you were here before her."
"You could wake me. Take the bed. Gotta be more comfy than your floor mattress."
Desmond doesn't even know where his anger sprang from, though he suspects it's always there, simmering, and has been since his brother started looking like life was continually punching his face.
"It's- whatever. Sorry."