im entitled to one (1) drabble per calendar year. this may become a series of drabbles eventually, themed around sleep.
“This cannot be fucking comfortable.”
It’s kind of comfortable, a little. Ashton’s fingers moving through Milo’s hair is very comfortable, as is his body heat soaking into their side. The angle of their spine is less comfortable. The throbbing headache that originates behind their eyes, crawls down the bridge of their nose and across their cheeks to wind back up to their temples and around their ears, is not fucking comfortable.
Nor is the sticky dryness of their eyes. Milo keeps blinking- they can’t tell if it stings less to have their eyes open or closed. Their throat is also dry as hell despite how much water they’ve been drinking, but it doesn’t hurt as much when they’re not talking. So Milo gives an ambivalent hum in response.
Ashton tugs on a handful of curls- not hard, but enough to get Milo to blink a couple more times. “You’re really fucking pushing it. Seventy hours seems a bit fuckin’ excessive, don’t you think?”
“Can’t sleep,” Milo mutters against Ashton’s clavicle. “Too much to do.”
“But you’re not getting shit done like this.”
“‘was before you came in here. Distracting me.”
“Liar. You were staring at the wall like a zombie. You’ve got two more tries to out-logic me before I carry your ass to bed, by the way,” Ashton warns.
Milo groans. The seventy-hour mark had crept up on them faster than they thought- it started off as just a terrible insomnia night, followed by restless manic energy carrying them through a second night, and by then they felt so shit that staying distracted with work was way more appealing than actually trying to sleep. They know they need rest, but something about it just feels like sinking-
Ashton tugs their hair again. “Don’t fuckin’ care, you need to anyway. Last chance.”
Fuck. They’re out of ideas. They gun for a compromise, instead. “c’n I sleep here?”
“Nope.” Ashton lowers his hand to brace between Milo’s shoulder and then leans forward to slip his other arm beneath the backs of their knees. Milo does nothing but make a low groaning noise of protest as Ashton scoops them up in a bridal carry. “Bedtime, idiot.”
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