lady_moon | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's late in the morning when she wakes up.

Moon stretches slowly, languorously, enjoying the warmth of bed and covers and body next to her own, its arm slung over her--

Wait.

She sits up carefully, gently shifting so his arm rests across her lap instead of across her body, and stares in disbelief.

"Mons," she hisses quietly.

The white wolf appears, distinctly unhappy about being woken up. Yes, Mistress?

"When did I fall asleep in here?"

You did not. You fell asleep in his lap on the sofa in the bar, and he was kind enough to bring you back here so he could actually sleep himself.

Moon thinks on this.

She fell asleep with Indy.

There is some internal flailing at this knowledge as she stares down at him.

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If the movement of his arm registers, it's somewhere in his deep subconscious, where reality is only a thematic mold for dreams.

Indy sleeps on.

He's lying on his side, facing her half of the bed. His upper shoulder rises and falls with the gentle rhythm of his breathing—quiet inhales, and a soft nasal drone on the exhale.

Moon watches him curiously.

And notes she's still dressed.

She turns to Mons again. "He... didn't take my clothes off."

Of course not! He's a gentleman who does not want to frighten you or betray you. Mons shakes her head.

Moon again stares at Indy, an odd look in her eyes. He'd let her fall asleep on him, even carted her back to his room. Her chest gets that achey feel she had come to associate with being close to the man.

Her voice sifts through the fog of slumber and penetrates his awareness. There are no visible signs of wakening, but a few sleep-hoarsened words do drift up from his pillow.

"He... is laying right here. And he has ears."

Moon blushes deeply.

"He was supposed to be fast asleep," she replies quietly.

She scoots back down to lay beside him, inching closer to his body.

"You brought me to bed, Indy," Moon murmurs.

His eyes remain closed. It's fairly obvious that true wakefulness is still some way off. Nevertheless, he coughs lightly—a habitual response to the morning frog in his throat—and shifts his draped arm so it's over her stomach again.

"You'd 've prefered it if I'd just left you on the couch down there?"

Fear shoots through her.

"No," she says quickly. "I--I hadn't meant to fall asleep. I don't usually do that."

But he'd kept her safe.

Slept with an arm around her.

Slowly, she smiles, even if he can't see it. It's a pleased smile.

"Your bed is very comfortable."

"Hence why I dumped you into it," Indy replies, voice still deeper and croakier than usual.

He cracks one eye. Even through the narrow slit and with its burden of bleariness, it dances with amusement.

"Then I thought to myself, why should you get to hog all the comfort. There's room for two."

She blushes again, but continues to smile.

"I haven't actually done this in months and months. It's... nice. The sleeping. The interactive bedwarmer," which was Indy, "is just a bonus."

Then she gives him a mock pout.

"Where's my breakfast in bed, hmm?"

Indy hadn't realized that she didn't keep normal sleep patterns, so that revelation provokes a lifted eyebrow. His sluggish brain doesn't allow him to respond further than that before she makes her demand.

"Uh... not my forté, gotta admit. I'm not really allowed to use the stove or the oven since I nearly burnt the place down a couple of years ago."

"...Or the waffle iron."

He looks a bit sheepish.

"Mike's the king of all things cooking-related, including breakfasts. I can offer coffee though. And a dazzling menu of cereals, toast, and crullers."

She wrinkles her nose at the offer of coffee.

"You drink coffee?" She's not a fan of it. "And what's a cruller?"

Indy opens both eyes and frowns.

"You don't drink coffee?"

He chooses to ignore the far more trivial second question.

"No. It's gross." She props her head up with her hand and grins. "I like tea. Or sparkly drinks. Sparkly drinks are the best."

He can't help but smile at her answer, despite heavy disapproval of it. He gives her a playful poke in the stomach.

"Lemme guess. You've never actually tried it? You've shunned it 'cause it's kinda brown, thus prob'ly tastes like mud... or beetles?"

She laughs when he pokes her, kicking him lightly under the covers.

"Beetles."

He needs to get it right.

"Would you drink something that tasted like beetles?"

"No."

He kicks her right back, then hooks his ankle around her calf to ensure that she doesn't return the favor.

"But... tea's brown too," he reasons. "So you do."

A grin starts to take shape as he senses personal triumph.

"It's not!" she protests, poking him since she couldn't kick. "It's a pretty reddish-amber colour that's even prettier when you add cream to it."

Made it kinda pinkish, if you asked her.

"Bah. There's barely any difference."

Not on the rare occasions that he makes tea anyway. It's possible his lack of experience in the field is yeilding stronger, darker brews than she is used to.

"Let me get this straight," he says, hauling himself into a more upright recline. "You'd actually drink coffee if it was a pretty color?"

"So... if I made you blue coffee, for instance, you'd be okay with that?"

She flops on him.

"Can you do that?"

"I can sure try," he states after a little oof.

He's pretty sure he can make it an orange color with the right food dye, once milk has been added, so maybe a kinda cobalt blue would be possible as well.

She thinks on this seriously.

"I'd be willing to try it."

He's catching on, though. Moon doesn't taste like everyone else. She experiences taste like sight and sound, so it's really the colour that's important.

Very important.

Moon kicks the covers off, uncomfortable in the heat and blankets.

"Right now?"

Not really ready to get up yet, Indy looks vaguely disappointed as the majority of the bed clothes ruck up and slowly slide off the end of the bed. He then chuckles as they rise again with a disgruntled Mare underneath them.

"No. I'm comfortable."

And she is, half sprawled on him.

Moon giggles at Mare.

"Serves you right, bad puppy," she admonishes him with another giggle. She tilts her head up to look at Indy. "He got Mons in a family way, you know. When I wasn't looking."

Indy smiles contentedly now that bed time has been extended.

"What d'ya mean?"

"She going to have babies," she grumbles.

Mare huffs and plops back down, nuzzling the sleeping Mons.

"Which means I have to do something with them once she weans them." Moon doesn't like having too many responsibilities. And babies are a responsibility.

"Oh, wow. You were being literal."

Both eyebrows are raised now, and there's a certain gleam of enthusiasm under them.

"Not her first ever litter, I'm guessin'. Do you normally release them into the wild, or find families for them?"

There's a trace of hope attached to the latter option.