Wolf 359 drabbles

Restless Sleeper

After the attempted coup, Eiffel and Minkowski were on edge pretty much constantly. Sure they had tied Hilbert up and threw him in their makeshift brig, but storage closets weren't all that hard to bust out of if you're determined enough. And Hilbert was plenty determined, it seemed.

Minkowski had come to the decision that they needed to stick together at all times and even went as far as to wait outside of the bathroom door for Eiffel, and making him do the same for her. Instead of splitting tasks like normal, they worked in the same room one task at a time, always keeping an eye on the other and checking over their shoulder.

On the Hephaestus, there is no "night and day," only the preconceived notion of it. Out here in the vast array of stars seven light years away from earth, they were completely and utterly alone. If Hilbert went rogue again, there'd be no chance of saving them.

At first they tried sleeping in shifts, but that quickly fizzled out when they both started falling asleep during their shifts. It just made sense to share Minkowski's admittedly already crammed bunk. Sleeping so close was surprisingly comforting for Eiffel, offering some much needed peace of mind. She'd protect him if anything were to happen. The weight of her body kept him from drifting too far away from the bed, and it was nice to wake up with his head still on his pillow in the morning.

As it turns out, Eiffel talks in his sleep. It startled Minkowski at first, hearing a mumbling voice in the dark loud enough to wake her. It only took her a second to realize it was just Eiffel, muttering incoherently as he dreamed.

"Give it here, you're doin' it wrong."

Minkowski settled down, resting her head on his chest. As she fell back asleep, he would periodically spout off some nonsense.

"Hmm, purple tiger's gonna pounce..."

She stifled a giggle behind her hand, deciding to stay awake for a while and see what else he'd say. The next day, she decided to bring it up.

"So you're a sleep talker, huh?" she asked casually as she rummaged through the pantry. Eiffel was pouring a cup of lukewarm seaweed coffee and froze.

"Uh, yeah sorry. Hope it didn't bother you too much," he said, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

"Not at all, it was actually pretty funny," she teased.

"Oh shut up."

And that was that. Neither of them dwelled on the subject, and if he happened to wake her up, she'd just fall back asleep.

About a week later, Eiffel was pulled from his slumber when he felt a soft tingling sensation on his side. He tried to brush it off in his dream, but the feeling only got stronger. He woke himself up with soft giggles spilling from his lips, utterly confused and sleepy. Another flutter on his waist drew forth a quiet snort, eyes finally shooting open.

Minkowski was hugging him in her sleep like usual; that wasn't the problem. But he noticed her hands twitching restlessly in her sleep, fingers curling and tapping against his skin. He contemplated waking her, but he didn't want to face her wrath for ruining her sleep over such a silly matter. Not to mention, he really didn't want her having that kind of knowledge to use against him. He'd never be able to slack off or sass mouth her ever again, not without severe ticklish punishment.

So he just laid there, trying his best to fall asleep as her nails grazed over his sensitive skin in the most agonizing way imaginable. He squirmed but not too much, afraid of disturbing her peaceful rest. And really, it wasn't the worst thing in the world.

He could get used to this, he told himself. He would live, even though he felt like he'd die from suppressed laughter.

All in all, he really didn't mind. And Minkowski never had to know.