Noah shivers a little at the way Ronan's laugh tickles the back of his neck, but he smiles at the sound of it.

"Rude," he says, palm still covering Ronan's hand. He moves it, though, to touch his fingers to Ronan's other hand, the one curled across from his face.

"The turkey's going to put us to sleep," he murmurs, eyes already half-closed.