overdrivels:

The return of consciousness comes slowly, a dark haze lifting off each one of your limbs before it reaches your mind where everything snaps back into focus and you are once again aware you are in the world of the waking.

Cracking open a sealed eye, you do a bleary sweep around the dark room, the digital numbers on your wall barely past four. An irritated huff passes your lips at the ungodly hour your body woke up to, and you pull the blankets over your shoulder in an attempt to return to sleep.

However, you find yourself unable to retrieve any length of blanket; a strong resistance against your pulls reminds you of the other figure in your bed.

You groan. “Jesse. Jesse, you’re hogging them again.”

The man slumbering beside you is blissfully unaware of your predicament, wrapped neatly in a blanket burrito with only a corner left for you. He keeps his back to yours, and even so, you can feel the heat permeating through. When you try again to regain your share, the only response you get is a short and the sound of uncoordinated beard-scratching.

Another insistent tug turns the man toward you and you wrinkle your nose.

Morning breath.

You catch the shadow of a smile tugging at the corner of her dry lips, and you narrow your eyes. This smug bastard; so cozy-looking and content, his hair everywhere and enroaching on your pillow space, toasty in his blanket burrito. Even in his slumber he’s easy-going and a jokester. You debated waking him up as retribution, but it’s late and there’s work to be done in the morning. Waking sleeping beauty up now wouldn’t be conducive to that. But who cares when you’ve been robbed of a decent REM cycle?

Just as your sleepy revenge is being considered, your bedmate reaches out blindly until he has your mid-back in hand to draw you into his cocoon. Pleasantly surprised, you let your get pulled under, the smouldering heat almost stifling–enough to make you sleepy again. The heavy arm draped along your midriff drags you further down into a zone of comfort.

Once settled, you can hear Jesse sigh and nuzzle his beard against the top of your head. It itches a bit, but it’s the thought that counts.

“G’night, Jesse.” The blankets will be stolen again shortly after you sleep, you’re sure. But the effort isn’t wasted.

Unbeknownst to you, Jesse’s already awake and has been long before you. He waits, pretending to be lost in his dreams until he can feel you relax and (despite your vehement denials) snore quietly beside him. As much as his warmth is a comfort to you, you are the anchor and the shield that grounds him to reality and protects him from the nightmares that bar him from a peaceful rest.

Again, he nuzzles the top of your head, hoping that at least one of you will be well-rested for the morning.

“G’night, sugar.”