Sasquatch to the Moon

15: Blackout

YETI

Sleeping doesn't last long because the hum of the heating shuts off at four in the morning, and then I'm awake again. The alarm clocks are off and when I check my phone, it's not charging. Blackout.

I blink the sleep out of my eyes, staring up at the wood ceiling for a few seconds to collect myself, then I sit up, sheets falling around my hips, hiding a very badly timed waking erection. I was never that forward with my sexual anything so these, especially on road trips, suck. Fenrir, my chronic dorm-mate of three years on the other hand, has a blast with them sometimes, waking up and coming to, then immediately laughing his ass off more than once a season. It's normally based on whatever his dream content was, the timing, the way it happens, any of it. 

I just roll over and wait. Right now, that's most of the plan. I sit and grab my sweatpants off the floor, pulling them up my legs and adjusting them around my hips before grabbing my hoodie off the floor and yanking that on, hoping it's mine considering the moon seems to have set and I have no idea what I'm grabbing. I have a slight feeling it isn't because of the smell but it fits fine and it might just be because of the room. 

I look around, giving my body another few minutes to chill out,  letting my eyes land on Rocket and his long back stretched out of his sleeping bag, the valley his spine leaves in the bottom of his back is gorgeous and so smooth as my eyes adjust that I'm stunned. 

And then oh shit that made it worse followed by oh shit I'm attracted to him. 

And then: Oh shit I'm attracted to him.

And then: "Lads, I swear it's just a ham and cheese sandwich!" 

I put the heel of my hand over my mouth, clearing my throat and looking away, remembering suddenly that he has a sleep talking problem. 

He groans, deep and throaty, "lads." 

I would punch my dick if he were a person. I would throttle my dick if he were a person. 

"Listen to me," Rocket mumbles, pointing with his hand ever so slightly, "poslechni! We don't have time for sendviče." 

I have such a bad urge to stay and listen. I've never heard him speak in Czech before. In my head, I knew he could do it, I knew he knew Czech. I know he has an accent, he just feels more like he's from the Americas than like he was born and raised in the Czech Republic. 

His next sentence rattles out fully in his mothertongue, hot and low across his teeth and his lips, mumbled and garbled just like the rest of his words but Czech. 

If my dick were a man and he were standing in front of me I would run him through with a sword without a second of consideration. 

I don't have time to be into Rocket. I really really really don't have time for it. 

I stand up and unzip my sleeping bag all the way like a blanket, then walk over to him and drape it over his sleeping body, trying not to focus on the way his nose is scrunched and his hands are out like he's gesticulating to whoever is in his dream. 

 By light of my phone, I escape the room and find my way to the common room area.

Paxton stumbles in about four minutes later, drowsy and in sweats and a hoodie, the same as me. 

"Hey," I mumble. He grumbles something under his breath and stretches.

"We need to restart that fire," he points at it, voice straight up fucked because of sleep. I roomed with him for my first few seasons and that was his sleeping quirk. He loses his voice and doesn't get it back for a while after waking up. "This hellhole is going to get cold, really cold."