@hadariyao: ❝ is that a blanket burrito i see? ❞
bed & sleepy prompts / accepting
“Twofer.” His voice is soft, rough from sleep, and he uses two fingers to push down the blanket he’s wrapped in on the couch in the library (blue, cashmere, originally purchased to be part of a set - there’s a red one around, as well, meant to be Tony’s very own - that has become Tony’s main napping comfort item downstairs because it’s supposed to be Steve’s), revealing a very asleep Halley with the side of her face smashed into his chest right under the rt, one hand with a death grip on his sleeve he’s actually kind of glad has found fabric, not skin - he can’t break that grip on a good gym day. She’s well and truly on her way to having one hell of a wrinkle from the fabric pressed into her cheek when she wakes up, and he’s pretty sure that’s drool leaking through his shirt.
Kids are dangerous. They can take the most night owl of persons suffering under the world’s most constant and longest-running sleep debt, and turn them into nap in the middle of the afternoon types of people.
The rhythmic thumping of a tail to the exact beat of The Hues Corporation’s Rock The Boat starts under the couch. “Threefer,” he amends. He’s actually honestly surprised Theodore Ursa has shown the amount of restraint he assumes it’s taken to keep from jumping onto the couch with them, and instead has found himself a napping spot underneath it.
Or Tony’s discussions with him about dogs not belonging on the couch have finally made some headway. Considering he has shown absolutely zero interest in appeasing Tony with acknowledgment before, he kind of doubts it.
It clicks, then, finally. While most of the Avengers as a whole, and friends very especially, typically have literally no issue with just...Barging into someone’s home like it’s still an Avengers headquarters and making themselves comfy, Ororo is not one of those people. He blinks up at her a moment, owlishly, and asks, “Is...It’s not Friday, is it.”
