The overwhelmed chief hadn't noticed his friend peek out, didn't know that Brannon would be able to see the exhausted slump to his shoulders as he removed his duty piece from the holster, putting the safety on, checking to make sure everything was squared away so he could set it on the nightstand by his bed.
Archer had been navigating the room by the glow of what could be seen from beneath Bran's blankets, not wanting to turn on a light if his friend was dozing under there, but the voice stopped him. His slightly ragged footsteps ceased when Bran spoke and there was a second of silence.
Then: "Welcome, buddy," replied Archer, continuing on the rest of the way to his bedside table, setting the gun down. The duty belt came off next, the cuffs and other tools staying in their cases as it was draped carefully on the chair. "How're you feeling?"
He left his holster on, turning and shoving his hands into his pockets as he addressed the shuttered blanket fort. He'd made Brannon soup yesterday, brought it up himself, left plenty in their microfridge. He'd been glad to do it, right up until Bran's texts made it seem like his best friend was pissed at him for doing his fucking job. Archer knew it was more than that, even that Bran was fishing for what the fuck was going on, but it hadn't made the messages sting any less and he'd closed himself off. It made it feel like he'd been making the soup as an apology. Everything seemed like a fucking apology. And Archer didn't know how to fix that. He didn't know how to fix any of the shit he was dealing with. He opened his mouth, wishing he knew how to begin that conversation.
He didn't. "Mind if I turn on the light?" Arched asked instead. At least he'd be able to see where he put shit so that he'd be able to find it in the morning. Instinct and routine meant that he laid everything down approximately where it went, but he'd forgotten to close one of his damn straight razors all the way a few nights ago and nearly sliced a finger open when he startled awake in the midst of a nightmare and fumbled for his phone on the stand to see what time it was. He'd missed it, thankfully, but it was mistakes like that he didn't need any more of.