Fact and Fantasy (Wilson x Reader)

Sleep? For me? Maybe???

Wilson shuffles and stirs in his blankets. While the herbs had taken the edge off his foot, it still had a faint ache. Sleep won't come for a very long time... He tries his back, maybe the side. Nope, no good. No matter how he curled or sprawled he couldn't distract himself from the injury. Maybe they could find a willow tree tomorrow, he thinks with a sigh of defeat.
Not only that, but it's embarrassing that she's out there by herself, but there isn't enough supplies to make her a tent of her own, and past experience has shown that she probably wouldn't be comfortable sharing one. The least he could do is fashion a cot. How would one go about that anyway? It would certainly take some leather or good, sturdy weaving. He could at least make a basic frame to put everything together. Why'd he have to go and be dumb... Wilson rubs his face, displeased. On top of all that, now his brain won't shut up. Just an endless spew of thoughts and ideas when all he wants to do is sleep. Maybe she's asleep? He could sneak out and tinker a bit without getting caught. Then again, why should he care if he's seen? It's not like he would be in real trouble. At least, he thinks.
He shuffles and softly crawls to the opening of the tent and pauses.
"Am I.." he can hear her mumble "...if this...." Parting the door a smidge he can see that she's fallen asleep, propped up on her knees by her hands. The stick she was once using to stoke the fire is held loosely in her grasp. She seems so at ease, like a weight had been eased or lifted. Wilson begins to close the opening when he notices the stick move into the fire. A few pokes and prods later and it's bolstered by the extra air and new angle on the wood fuel. But wasn't she still asleep?
"Hey," he whispers loudly "are you awake?" There's no response, all she does is pull the stick back out of the fire. Wilson has heard of sleep walking, and sleep talking. Heck, some people cook in their sleep! But he's never seen anyone tend a fire. Would it be okay if he left her alone? Probably not???
Wilson grabs his crutch and balances to his feet. He steps out into the chilled night, feeling the air bite at his cheeks and nose. Fall had to be coming... perhaps he could do something to prepare while keeping an eye on her. He shuffles quietly to a chest of supplies and removes a couple long logs. To this day it baffles Wilson's mind how so many things can fit in one compartment of the chest at once. Someday he'll understand the technology, until then he must be content with preparing the parts for the drying rack.
As silently as humanly possible, Wilson sets the logs down near the fire. With an extra kick, he nudges a sitting log into place.
First the plans. He sits and draws in the dirt with a stick. It would work well to be tent shaped, maybe have room for two racks. The best drying agent for meats would be smoke, that gets you a basic jerky. So below the structure he would have to put a pit of some kind that can be covered to allow slow burning throughout the day.... Wilson's thoughts turn to gentle murmurs as he scratches out part of the dirt to revise his plan. "Maybe a hole would be better, then have a chimney like channel" 'so we can build the fire well without it getting out of hand!' He finishes in thought, a proud smile on his face "That could allow for other uses as well, a furnace, or even-"
"What are you talking about?"
He freezes hearing her talk. A quick glance shows that her eyes are still shut tight. Wilson sighs in relief, maybe he should keep his voice down... he sets to work sharpening the ends of the structural poles. You two will need a solid standing piece if this will work... the shavings land in the fire, providing a little extra fuel.
With the base done, Wilson's exhausted his thoughts on what he can do... he looks into the fire and watches the flames lick at the remaining fuel. Tentatively, he lets his eyes go back up to her sleeping face. She's made a lot of expressions over the course of the night, but this one has to be his favorite. Her brow being slightly furrowed, and lips held in a pout before relaxing back to a neutral position. Bits of her hair falls into place, the light of the fire shadowing her face just right. Gracious, could that be? The very tiniest hint of a smile? Wilson can feel his face grow warm. If she were awake right now she'd be livid, or at least nervous. Nonetheless, he can't bring himself to look away.
Wilson pats around his pockets before finding a spare paper. There isn't much charcoal left, so what he has will make do. Gently, deftly, as though holding her own face, he places down lines and shapes, praying to do her justice. Who knows when she'll be this calm again? He works his absolute hardest to capture the subtle tranquility and beauty of every bit of her. He hair, eye lashes, even how her cheek is pushed by the rest of her palm. With his new personal masterpiece in hand he scrambles to tuck it out of sight as her eyes slowly flick open.
He smiles at her "Good morning,"
She rubs at her face "mornin'... how's your foot?" He slumps a little inside, of course she'd  be worried about him first thing in the morning.
"It's fine, I might help you look for some Willow trees later today though."
He watches as she smacks the palm of her hand to her forehead "I forgot those had aspirin in 'em..."
Wilson chuckles at her groggy frustration. "They come in handy," he continues your somewhat small talk while checking the shadow positions. "It's still early morning, I'll make you something and we can plan what we're going to do."
This wakes her up good and quick "you don't have to! I can do it-"
"Absolutely not." He huffs himself up and onto his crutch "let me be a gentleman."
She sighs "fine..."