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Tossing and turning was an understatement. You had been awake for what felt like hours, though you hadn’t bothered to check, for no reason other than your legs were a little too hot and your brain just wouldn’t shut off.
You kept your eyes closed, listening to the quiet sounds of the city outside the window. It was dark, nearly silent, and by all accounts you should be asleep any moment now.
Any moment now.
Nothing.
Frustrated, you turned over again, flipping your pillow and jamming your face into it. You huffed out a sigh, and felt a warm hand hit your back.
Corbeau 💜
“What’s wrong?” Corbeau mumbled, his other hand rubbing his face.
“Can’t sleep,” you replied into your pillow. There was no way he understood that.
“What?” Yeah. You turned your face so you were no longer speaking directly into the fabric.
“Can’t sleep,” you repeated.
“Why?” Corbeau asked, his hand leaving your back to join his other in rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Corbeau was quiet for a moment, then he took a deep breath. You felt him move next to you, and you peeked one eye open to see what he was doing. He had pulled himself up on his elbows until he was settled just a little more upright on his pillows, and he flipped the covers down to his waist.
“Alright,” he said. “C’mere.”
“What do you mean?” you asked. You really, truly hoped he wasn’t expecting sex right now because as much as you always wanted him, that was kind of the last thing you wanted right now.
Corbeau didn’t respond, he just tapped your head a couple times and then tapped his own sternum. Catching his meaning, you pushed yourself up on your hands, sliding over to settle on top of him and lying your head on his chest.
You closed your eyes again, and Corbeau’s hands came up to your hair. He gathered it all, making sure to pull every strand from under your face and neck, and laid it all to one side, away from your face. He began running his fingers through your hair, gently pulling out all the tangles. When he reached for another section, he let his fingernails graze lightly on your scalp. Your scalp tingled with every touch, especially when Corbeau would finish with a small section of your hair and give it a tug, pulling just hard enough to feel nice.
Almost immediately, you felt all the tension leave your body, and as Corbeau continued to work his way across your scalp, you finally felt your consciousness starting to slip away.
When he reached the center of your head, he parted your hair right down the middle, and ran his finger from the nape of your neck, all the way up to your hairline, and then back down. He followed that same path for a few minutes, the repetition lulling you even further. Then he gently lifted your head and turned it the other way, setting it back down gently and starting the same process with the other side.
He wasn’t even halfway done when you fell asleep.
Grisham ❤️
Grisham’s hand was warm against your back, rubbing soothingly.
“What’s going on?” he asked sleepily. You just grunted into your pillow. “Can’t sleep?”
“Yeah,” you said, turning your head toward him.
“Alright,” Grisham said, sitting up. He climbed out of the bed, standing and stretching his arms over his head. You couldn’t help but watch the muscles in his back and shoulder as he did. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” you asked, sitting up yourself. Grisham didn’t respond, he just waved his hand in a beckon for you to follow him, so you did.
He led you out to the kitchen, pulling out a chair for you at the dining table. You sat down, and watched as he put the kettle on, and quietly made you each a cup of tea. The only light came from the dim bulb that was tucked into the range above the stove, and other than the sounds of Grisham moving around in the kitchen, all was quiet.
When the tea was done, he set a mug in front of you, and then sat down in another one of the chairs.
“So,” he said, bringing his mug to his lips. “Tell me what Lida was so excitedly whispering about when you two came by the truck earlier.”
That’s where the two of you stayed as you sipped your tea, talking quietly. You gossiped, philosophised, laughed, and debated until your mugs were empty and your eyes were droopy. Grisham smiled softly as your eyes drifted shut, your head falling forward a little before snapping back up.
“Ready to go back to bed?” he asked softly.
You nodded, reaching your arms up in a silent question. Grisham stood, scooped you into his arms, and carried you back to bed.
You were asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow once more.
Ivor 💛
Ivor’s hand covered your whole back, practically pinning you to the bed.
“Why are you up, my love?” he asked. You flipped back over onto your back, taking his hand in both of yours and moving it over your face.
“I can’t sleep,” you said into his palm. He hummed, using his fingertips to gently push the hair back from your face.
“Would you like me to turn on one of my meditation tapes?” he asked earnestly. You sighed.
“I don’t think it would help, I just feel so…” you kicked your legs a few times, trying to shake the antsy feeling out of them. “Restless.”
Ivor was quiet for a moment, then he hummed thoughtfully again before rolling over on top of you. He held himself over you carefully, boxing in your arms and legs with his elbows and knees.
“Maybe,” he said, lowering his weight onto you slowly. “If you cannot move, you will sleep.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurd feeling of him pressing you deeper and deeper into the mattress, until you started to feel the air being pressed out of your lungs. You reached a hand up to his waist to tap him out.
He lifted off of you immediately, and you gasped, not realizing just how much you hadn’t been able to breathe. You laughed again, and he joined you, flopping back over onto his side and bouncing you on the mattress. You squealed in surprise, laughing even harder as you settled back onto the bed.
“You,” you said to him, turning over and crawling on top of him. “Are going to pay for that.”
You reached up and pressed your fingers to his neck, in the spot you knew he was most ticklish. Ivor flinched away from your touch, wrapping both hands around your waist and lifting you straight into the air. Your limbs flailed helplessly, unable to find purchase.
“Hey!” you laughed, trying to wiggle free. “Let me down!”
“No tickling,” Ivor said, and you gave in, letting your arms and legs hang loose.
“No tickling,” you promised.
Ivor lowered you down, but kept you on his chest. It was quiet for a few moments, his hands resting on your back with a weight that was comforting and not crushing. And then you felt another laugh bubble up from inside you, unable to stop it from escaping your lips. And then Ivor laughed underneath you, which sent you into another full fit of giggles.
You laughed together at absolutely nothing, going back and forth setting each other off, for several minutes. You laughed until your belly hurt and few of your tears had fallen onto his skin.
At some point, you weren’t sure when, you fell asleep again, and when you did, you were smiling.
Urbain 💗
Urbain’s hand patted your back in what he probably meant to be a soothing way. You turned onto your side, and it didn’t stop until you grabbed his wrist and hit him in the face with his own hand. He had no reaction to this.
“What is happening?” he asked.
“I can’t sleep, and you decided to hit me about it,” you grumbled. Urbain sat up, jamming his fists into his eyes for a few seconds before looking around the room.
“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked, searching the room like the answer must be in there somewhere.
“Dunno,” you replied, sitting up next to him.
“Hm,” was all he said for a few moments. And then he was scrambling off the bed with more energy than a child on Christmas morning.
“Where are you going?” you asked, as Urbain opened the hotel room door.
“Come with me,” he said. With nothing better to do, you followed.
Urbain took your hand and pulled you to the elevator, taking you down to the first floor. Then you stepped behind the front desk and back into the kitchen. He didn’t turn the lights on, and you could only see the vague outlines of the counters and appliances by the weak moonlight streaming in from the window.
Urbain guided you to the middle of the kitchen, and then sat down on the floor. You sat down with him, and then he laid back onto the tile. You laid next to him.
“What are we doing?” you asked. Urbain’s hands were folded over his stomach, and his eyes closed.
“Lying on the kitchen floor,” was all he said.
“…why?” you pressed, deeply confused.
“It’ll help,” Urbain promised. “Just wait.”
And so you waited, the cold, hard tile pressing into your back and skull in a way that you hated. But you were patient, and you stayed put as you waited for more direction from Urbain. When none came, you started to grow a little bored.
“This is really weird, Urbain,” you said after a few minutes passed.
“I know.”
His eyes didn’t open.
You turned your head back to the ceiling, watching the shadows of branches dance across it. You continued to wait, the kitchen floor growing more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. Just when you were about to call him crazy and ditch him, Urbain sat up.
“I think that’ll about do it,” he said. He stood up and offered you his hands, pulling you to your feet and leading you back to the elevator.
“Are you going to explain any of that?” you asked, stretching your neck as the elevator moved slowly upward. Urbain shook his head.
“You’re going to have to learn to trust me,” he said.
“I do trust you,” you said after the door opened and you stepped into the hall. “But I’d still like to know why we just spent ten minutes lying on the kitchen floor.”
Urbain didn’t respond, just brought you quietly back into his room. You practically flung yourself onto it, hugging your pillow and reveling in all the soft warmth. Urbain pulled the covers back up to your shoulders before settling back onto the mattress next to you. He put his arms up behind his head, closing his eyes and smiling contentedly.
“Doesn’t the bed feel so much softer and nicer now?” he asked quietly.
You couldn’t respond, sleep had already pulled you too far down.