i gave you what you wanted, but no more than just enough.

[docwithablog]

[ When he wakes up, it's ten hours later into the day, the clock reading twenty-three hundred hours and he's starving, his entire system begging him to fix himself something to eat, biscuits will do, really. Except, John's really very sure biscuits won't do, not with the amount of physical exercise he's been engaging in and how long it's been since he last ate, but maybe something relatively low effort will cut it. Beans on toast... Is he out of beans? God, he hopes he isn't out of beans.

Rolling slowly onto his back -- and then onto his other side, so he can swing his legs lazily out over the edge of the bed, John doesn't make great efforts to avoid waking up the other man, looks pretty comatose to him, after all. Still. A slight smile as he sits up, feet coming into contact with the floor, cool and bathing in shadows. Christ, he's knackered as well, his entire body feels like a 400 pound boulder.

The walk to the kitchen should be fun like this. ]

Comments

[insuperiorstrength]

[ He comes awake slowly - fast, by normal standards, but slow by his. Blinking fast, he registers first his surroundings. John's bedroom. Dark, night-time. He's got a good few hours left until his next departure and his body feels like concrete when he tries to move, sleep-ridden and still very much in repair modus. What woke him up? He turns his head slowly to the side, registers motion; John, getting out of bed. Noisily.

He frowns, going back to staring at the ceiling. In a few seconds, he'll be fully awake. ]

What are you doing?

[ Why did you wake me up to do it is implied, though it's a mostly irrational annoyance. His voice sounds positively growly in the darkness, as he shifts slightly on his back, straightening out his legs beneath the duvet. ]