bakerstreet | fell asleep on

[Sarah? She doesn't sleep as much as she should. In fact, she's not entirely sure how Derek had gotten her to sit down this long to watch a movie. Or at least she's pretty sure that's what they were watching, there was no telling. Though she's not exactly paying attention to what's on the screen and is slowly drifting off, head on Derek's shoulder.]

Mm.

[It's hard to wake up, for so many reasons. For the first time in as long as he might remember, were he awake enough to try, he's been sleeping well. No nightmares--in fact, a rather pleasant dream about sunshine and grass and laughter. There's also the fact that he drank enough last night to fell a small bronto. Add in to that the incredibly comfortable and warm pillow he's somehow acquired, and--

"You need to wake up now."

The words finally pierce the sleepy, still-vaguely-intoxicated fog in his brain. Eyes blink open, sleepily flutter closed again. And then open.

That's... not a pillow. That's a leg.

Suddenly Cullen sits bolt upright, and just as quickly regrets it. His head pounds, his vision swims, and the full impact on his muscles of a night of sleeping in strange positions in full plate armor makes itself known. With an involuntary groan he reaches both hands up to hold his head, as if his skull might fly apart at any moment. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.]

Oh Maker...

[He's been sleeping in the Inquisitor's lap. He's been sleeping in the Inquisitor's lap. The... Her.

When his head stops swimming from that first too-quick movement he turns slightly toward her, his hair matted all along one side (not a very fetching look there, Commander). His voice is a rumble, deeper when he first wakes up and tongue still thick from too much alcohol and not enough water.]

I... please, forgive me Inquisitor.

[He's oblivious to the fact she's falling asleep, that is until her head is resting on his shoulder. That was definitely new, and he just glanced down at her. The longer he watched her the more he saw what made his brother want to risk coming back through time to save her. She was a good looking woman, not something he really had a lot of time to stop and think about before.]

Daryl isn't really paying attention to what Mark is doing right now. Even though they don't have to, he's sitting down skinning a squirrel. Hey, it was food and if someone had a problem with it, then oh damn well. He wasn't going to worry about what anyone else thought. So for now his focus is on what he was doing rather than what the other was doing.

[ Even shocked to see him upright so quickly, Nasrin lets out a small little chuckle, empathizing immediately with his obvious headache. ]

That's right about where I am too.

[ She says it quietly, because even if most of the others are too intoxicated to let a little talking wake them, she can't be certain, and she'd like to avoid any embarrassing altercations so soon after their hard-won victory in the field. When he turns, she gives him a slightly sunny smile, though it's hampered by the pounding of her head. If anything, it's sheepish and almost apologetic, the same as his. ]

It's all right, no harm done. At least you were comfortable, yes?

[ Oh, Creators, shut up. She clears her throat awkwardly, feeling the sting of too much liquor as she does so. ]

Really, it's all right. I just...didn't want you to get caught that way, with everyone around. Varric would publish it in some tawdry novel and you'd never hear the end of it.

[ But he'd been relaxed and that's surprisingly more important to her than some foolish talk around camp. ]

Mmm... Not now, I don't.

[There's a hint of sly humour in his voice, but the way his body reacts to her touch that speaks to the truth of his words, even if she couldn't hear it.]

((ooc: F/M for shipping))

Mark is sitting beside Daryl, using a stick to draw idly in the dirt, one arm around the backpack that contains both their supplies and his camera. He's learned that he hates squirrel, but he tolerates it because it's better than going hungry, and because he feels he shouldn't complain. Still, he's noticed how Daryl always seems to bring back unusual game like snakes and squirrels.

Maybe it's one too many virtually sleepless nights between nightmares and trying to make sure Daryl gets enough rest, but Mark's already starting to nod off. His head droops and snaps back up, and he rubs his eyes to try to fight off the urge to sleep. It's not long, though, before the stick drops from his hand and he's finding it hard to keep his eyes open. His head lolls to the side, coming to rest against Daryl's shoulder.

[Some people would find having a beautiful redhead fall asleep on them to be a wonderful experience. Ushahin was not one of them. All he could feel was annoyance. He attempted to both ease his shoulder out from under her head and keep her from waking up at the same time.]

[Problem is, outside of her coffin, Remi tends to be a light sleeper, so when Meiling moved a bit, she nudged Remi a little, causing her to stir and murmur.]

[ m/m for shipping. can be the one sleeping or the one slept against. ]

They took turns, steering the boat towards the battle they knew was to come.

At first, Thor was loathe to shut his eyes around his baby brother. Here was the man who had stabbed him mercilessly. The man who had tried to obliterate entire realms for his own ends. Here was Frigga's youngest boy. The ingenious little seidrmandr who had always been mocked for the abilities which had repeatedly saved Thor's life. Here was the innocent and crafty little trickster, yes, but also the Silvertongue and Liesmith besides. Thor's feelings were a complicated mess.

Their family was falling apart, and Thor longed to trust Loki. Even knowing that he would only rue it.

Procrastinating such a difficult choice, Thor simply gazed out across the basin of gravel and sand. The yellow sky was fading towards dusk, so that the jagged mountains lining the distance were the only other visible shapes. Everything else was just a vast sea of grey.

Feeling something on his leg, Thor glanced over... and stopped. Loki? Loki had fallen asleep on... Unsure of how he felt about that, Thor just gave a sad smile. He'd keep still, to let his little brother rest.

Though Thor was clearly vexed by the choices he had to make, and that might make it difficult for him to sleep, Loki was not nearly so preoccupied. He fully intended to escape, of course, but he had no idea how he was going to accomplish it. For now, all he had to do was wait for the battle to come.

And he hadn't quite realized how exhausted he was. For the last several days he had been sleeping poorly. Though he didn't have anything to do, just the fact that he could do nothing had been difficult to bear.

So he found himself dropping off to sleep without meaning to. After a while, he stirred slightly and opened one eye, then frowned and closed it again. Why move when he was comfortable?

He was in no danger with Thor, after all, whatever Thor's protestations that he didn't trust Loki and would kill him if he betrayed him. Loki didn't believe it for a moment. Thor had always trusted him even though he knew he shouldn't.

[ Rapunzel was just sitting on the ground sort of spacing out as she watched the clouds go by in the sky when she felt a sudden weight on her shoulder. She glanced over and spotted an unfamiliar face.

Trying to keep quiet she just kind of stares at this mysterious girl curiously.]

[Cullen blanches at the thought of winding up in Cassandra and Dorian's reading material (oh yes, he's heard), turning his head just enough to eye the snoring dwarf warily. He'd have gotten around to worrying about that sort of thing eventually, after the initial mortification of waking up so close to... to.... Anyway, it's good of her to think of it for him. When he speaks again he's careful to lower his voice to match hers.]

Thank you. [There's also the fact that he's not the only one who might wind up gracing the pages of some trashy serial, but that's a thought best left untouched for now.] Although now that you mention it, perhaps we'd best be getting out of here.

[Following through on that thought the Commander rises slowly, grimacing at the protestations from stiff, sore muscles.]

Maker's breath, why did I let them talk me into this?

[M/f for romantic shippy times but all are subjected to relentless, unconscious snuggling on her end, or awkward hair petting if you're sleeping on her.]

[Danny wasn't about to give up, or that's what he told himself. Except where he finally does and gives another yawn, shutting the book. Though he winces because that sounded louder than what it needed to be. Looking down he sees Ethan fast asleep and smiles, reaching down and carding fingers through his hair.]

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