SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL (The World)

[gluttoning]

[FOOTBALL NOISES

aka this for IRL football watching or any communications outside Fragment. Yay football. :)]

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[gluttoning]

You can't?

[The anti-Booker...... well, he supposes it makes sense, given what else Morgan struggles with. But sleep was an odd one. It felt so overpowering natural so long as you were tired enough and comfortable enough.

Maybe he just didn't remember how to be comfortable? But, no, he just said... hm.

Hmmmmmmmm. His brain creaks open, slowly, groggily. Test? Is this where you'd offer that?]

Booker falls asleep on me all the time. So I'm used to it. I guess I didn't notice at the picnic...

You wanna give it a try? It's, uh... not the nicest place to sleep right now, but... [He shuffles a bit to adjust one of the several hospital blankets draped around him, tucking the textured fabric against Morgan as best he can.]

I don't mind. It gets cold in here. And... it's easier, to sleep when you're not all alone. Sometimes, I mean.

[...]

I'll stay with you. Until you fall asleep. Just like before. [Just like when their positions were reversed, thousands of miles away over nothing but a phone, Barrett wrapped in the cold of night while Morgan slipped off to the drone of hospital monitors.

The touch at Morgan's waist curls a little.

He likes this. Not being apart this time. Even if this isn't a good situation... he likes the good in the moment.]

[tablescraps]

( "Sometimes," huh. He figures Booker must nap on Barrett more often than not. He can't really imagine what it's like to be that close with your sibling - twinship might have something to do with it, but even Barrett and Levi were close. He thinks briefly back to Cael, before his thoughts return here.

It isn't lost on him, the familiar echo of their situation - a mirror of some week ago, an inverse of the day before; it isn't lost on him, the warming sensation of his firmer hold. )

... Sleep too, if you're tired.

( He closes his eyes in quiet affirmation that he'll see if he can get some rest against the gentle radiator that Barrett is. He shifts - not so much getting comfortable but finding some closer position, arm curling up over Barrett's chest as he rests against him - and seems to settle there. )

I'll be back tomorrow, too. As long as you're here.

( He's not going anywhere. He couldn't tell you why or what for; he just simply has decided this would be true, and so he will be here.

His breathing remains steady for a time; the same, quiet breaths in his same, slow rhythm. Conscious, not really minding the silence; not needing to talk, even if it's what he likes. Being here is all right. And in the quiet depths of his relaxed mind, there is some part of him that finds relief in this; he doesn't realize how exhausted he'd been, all wound up and upset over Barrett.

Eventually, his breathing starts to slow. It's a gradual gradient. It languishes in its pace, but it flows its way to restfulness eventually. His expression relaxes, and the tension in his muscles goes soft.

Mithrun doesn't really dream; and he doesn't either, this time. But the darkness that finds him now is something more comforting, more safe than he's found it in a long time. )