(no subject)

[hellobugbite]

Hobbie, in a booth, sitting with his back up against the wall and his legs stretched out on the bench. Two mugs are on the table in front of him, one empty, the other half full of what is by this point stone cold caf.

Beside the mugs are his platoon of yellow army men, all arrayed in a desperate battle against the looming evil of the salt and pepper shakers.

Comments

[hellobugbite]

Hobbie grins and loops an arm around Wes' waist, pulling him towards the stairs.

"Isn't part of the Dark Side, sleep."

[undignified]

"Nope, I guess not," Wes agrees with another yawn, maybe leaning on Hobbie a little more than he needs to as they head for the stairs. "'s got its uses."

[hellobugbite]

Hobbie helps Wes up the stairs and to the door of the room they've been sharing.

Or really, Hobbie's been sharing.

He unlocks the door and gently pushes Wes in the direction of the bed.

"Sleep, you," he repeats. "Else I'll have to pull rank on you. Or something."

[undignified]

Wes grins as he sits on the bed, yawning and pulling off his boots. "'s much as I'd like to see you try... you're right. I'll sleep."

Not bothering to undress further, he lies down and pulls the covers over himself, yawning again. Then he looks up at Hobbie, and props himself up on an elbow. "What 'bout you?"

[hellobugbite]

"Got my bedroll," Hobbie says, nodding at the pile of blankets and pillows he's been sleeping on. "'m good."

[undignified]

Wes glances at the pile and shakes his head, then half-collapses onto his pillow, eyes closed. "'s room," he mutters, but he's too tired to really argue just now, and he'll be asleep in a few minutes. Like his mun.

[hellobugbite]

Hobbie twitches for an indecisive moment, then sits on the edge of the bed, pulls off his boots, and curls up beside Wes, watching him (best friend wing mate everything) sleep.

And then, after a time, he's asleep himself, an arm tight around the other pilot's waist.

Sometimes you fly, and sometimes you fall, and sometimes you-

-land.