Gus almost chuckled at the obvious distress they were both in, yet neither seemed willing to speak of the matter; the moment was over, at least for now, and he wasn’t about to dredge up the awkwardness just to be asked to leave. A little uncomfortableness in his trousers was worth spending time with him, so instead he glanced over at Basil and nodded. “Yeah, no. By all means. I’m glad though, that you came up when you did.” His eyes softened at the sentiment because he wasn’t sure where he’d be if Foxwood hadn’t meandered up when he had – maybe in his room, staring at the ceiling. Maybe in their spot with his feet dangling over the edge of the cliff as he contemplated telling Basil he could summon a broom faster than he could fall. (Or the alternative of finding his body on the sharp rocks below because he couldn't.) Or maybe he would have remained where he was until someone came to retrieve him – there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that he would have frightened one of the first years trying to get to their common room.

A soft blush warmed his cheeks and Gus rested a hand against his stomach. He shook his head. “I don’t think I could stomach anything.” Even if he was hungry, the thought of eating made him nauseous enough that he’d probably just poke at whatever was in front of him. On his way down he’d poke his head into the kitchen to see if there was anything leftover from dinner (there always was, because Gus had been doing the exact thing since he was a wee first year, always wanting a snack or a second dessert before bed). The house elves were never surprised to see his head poke through the door sporting a wide grin; he enjoyed when he was lucky enough to catch them putting away the dessert because he was happy to take those off their hands. Even the thought of consuming something sweet right now made his stomach tighten, and he sighed and shook his head again.

Blue eyes watched curiously as Foxwood collected the essays from his desk, and he made a small noise at the sight of the leaning tower, threatening to spill over – his own stack wasn’t much better, but at least manageable compared to that monstrosity. Gus tracked his movements from the desk to the bed, and he eyed him curiously; grading in his bed seemed like the least Basil thing he could have done, but Gus wasn’t one to question his methods. He had his weird quirks while trying to power through grading, too.

He caught a look in the man’s eyes as he appraised him, one that seemed questioning and welcoming rolled into one and set the teacup down on the nearest surface. He abandoned his desire to look around the room and crossed the small space between them, toeing his own shoes off before peeling off the weathered scarf from his neck. He threw it down onto the bed. Offering Basil a lopsided grin before he jumped into the bed with him, a soft groan escaped him as he hit the mattress. His body thanked him for the clouds he was lying on. “Your bed is comfortable.” Gus murmured and turned to press his back and butt against him for… obvious reasons. Gus did awkwardly move to loop his ankle around Basil’s, although the angle made it uncomfortable so he moved his leg back to the original position and pressed against him further.

“Do you always grade here?” Gus hummed as he fluffed the scarf up a little bit before laying his head down on it. “I do from my bed.”

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