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He stayed up late. Again.
Honestly, at this point, Carter needs to have some sort of personal clock that screams at him to go to bed once it passed nine o'clock.
Although earlier sounds much more fitting.
Zia had found her boyfriend slumped over his desk, which had been covered by half-finished schoolwork and his three times revised syllabus for the newly arrived initiates at Brooklyn House.
A pencil still in his hand and his curly brown hair mussed and disheveled, like he spent most of the night scratching his head or running a hand through his hair.
Both are very likely options to happen.
A desk lamp still open, shining a weak and dim light over him.
Judging by the crumpled papers that had fallen on the floor and the mug of cold coffee that probably hadn't felt heat since it was first brewed near the lamp, nothing's been going right for him since the last few hours.
Hours that he should have spent asleep in his room.
Then there's Carter himself.
The former Eye of Horus had half his face buried in various papers.
Visible eye bags ringing his eyes.
His slouched position promised back pain the moment he'd straighten himself.
Old battle scars around his face beginning to fade.
A small snore erupted from him.
Hardly audible, but the room was quiet, so she heard.
Carter would vehemently and passionately deny he snores, claiming he sleeps as soundless as.... Well, as quiet as it can get.
Well, news flash, He doesn't sleep as quiet as he says he does.
But Zia must admit, though not to anyone out loud, that Carter really does look endearingly cute when he's like that.
Letting out a slow breath, Zia approached.
She ran her hand through his brown locks.
"Carter."
No response.
He only seemed to burrow himself more into the pile. The pencil that had been loosely in his hold falling to the floor.
Was it her imagination? Or did he mumble a word.
A word that sounded suspiciously like her name.
It's cute. But also annoying.
It wouldn't grate on Zia the wrong way if he decided to dream about her in his own bed and not on a table.
She tried again, this time with a little increase of volume.
"Carter."
This time it worked.
He snorted awake, nearly jumping out of his seat in a rush.
Upon seeing it was only her, he relaxed, a small but tired smile forming.
"Hey."
Then he paused, and looked down at his crumpled shirt, his messy hair, and everything else a wreck.
Zia watched with mild amusement as he quickly tamed his hair and smoothed out his shirt.
His eyes darted to her, then to his work, then took something out from a drawer-- mint? -- and popped it in his mouth before swallowing.
"Hi, Zia--"
"You stayed up late. Again."
She crossed her arms.
It wasn't a question. It's an observation, and a fact.
An irritating, annoying, undeniable fact.
"I....yeah, sorry." He sheepishly rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.
"I... I was just trying to catch up on some homework. Didn't get to.... You know, with everything else going on."
"I know," Zia said softly, letting her arms fall to her sides.
Her hand found his and gave it a squeeze.
"But you need to sleep too. You won't get anything done if you're running on empty."
He tried to remove his hand from her hold, but found it to be warm and comforting.
"I will. Let me just finish this one---"
"That one? Or everything?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Still, no words came out.
She raised a brow.
"My point."
Carter huffed, turning back to the papers in front of him, rolling his shoulders and wincing as he straightened himself.
As she had thought. His spine either felt relieved to be stretched or screaming in pain from it.
"In my defense---"
"Your defense is non-existent."
"Yes it does! It does so exist!" He insisted.
Then, more quietly, added,
"It's just..... not that convincing yet."
Zia's lips twitched in amusement.
She leaned over to what Carter had been slumped over and took one piece of the stacks with her free hand. She saw his hand twitch as she lifted
This one looked like a syllabus for combat training.
She skimmed through crossed out notes, entire sections crossed out and rewritten.
From the paper's texture, it got repeatedly erased more than it should have been.
"You revised this thrice?"
She asked.
"Four times," he corrected with a hoarse voice, fiddling with his eraser.
"The third one didn't fit in right."
"And this one will?"
He hesitated.
".....No. Not really."
Zia hummed, putting the syllabus back on the desk.
"Then you are not finishing it tonight."
Carter blinked, then began to protest.
"But---"
"No."
She cut in, soft but firm, with no room for arguments.
"Zia--"
"No." She repeated.
"Carter, you need to sleep. Have you looked at your eyes lately?"
At the back of her mind, she could almost hear Sadie roll her eyes and say something along the lines of:
“No, why would he need to look at his eyes when yours are right in front of him”, and then walk out like she just dropped the most inspiring speech.
Carter glanced down, his fingers twitching.
No. No, he hasn't.
He knows that. And she knows that too.
She tightened her fingers around his, not enough to hurt--just enough to keep him there.
Zia believes that Carter will keep his word of resting.
She just knows it won't be right now if he keeps pushing himself this way.
"Look, Z,"
His voice pulled back from her silent musings.
He lifted a hand and dragged it down his face.
"If I don't do it tonight, it doesn't lessen the things I need to finish. There's also the homework--"
Her fingers brushed lightly along his jaw, a quiet subconscious gesture more than an active command to stop talking.
He stopped mid-sentence.
He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and he momentarily forgot what he had been thinking of seconds ago.
Her flicked downwards for a brief moment, and her gaze caught the sight of something near the edge of Carter's jacket's pocket.
Like a small, nondescript box. Hardly noticeable.
Carter blinked, as if trying to get out of his floating mental state of staring into Zia's gold irises.
He exhaled slowly, like the weight of the last few hours finally reaching him.
She started to pull her hand away, but Carter, almost like an instinctive reflex rather than a conscious action, placed his hand over hers, keeping it where it was.
"Please don't," He murmured sleepily into her hand, his eyes half lidded.
Her gaze flickered into something softer.
"You okay?"
He blinked twice, shaking himself awake.
He looked at his homework, that syllabus he had been writing, then back to Zia.
"I.... yeah. Yeah."
Zia didn't move away.
Instead, she shifted and lowered herself to meet his eye level.
His eyes followed the movement.
"Carter."
That was it.
No lecture.
No order.
No request.
No argument.
Just his name.
Something in him loosened.
He let out a slow breath.
"I was saying something about the homework."
"You were." She replied.
"It didn't seem important at the moment."
They stared at each other, not moving from where they are.
Her hand was still near his jaw, his hand still over it.
Zia straightened, already rising back to her full height.
Carter moved quick without another thought, his chair scrapping back from the sudden movement.
His free hand slipped from his grip on the chair and slid around Zia's waist.
His lips catching hers in speed.
Focus shifted from work to this.
Zia inhaled softly, surprised by the sudden action, then she kissed him back, just as firmly as him.
After a few seconds, they pulled back, Carter seemingly more awake than he had before.
"I thought you had work to do?"
Her voice stayed steady, although her cheeks looked slightly flushed.
Carter only smiled, looking more like himself now.
"You said I need to sleep."
"Now you listen to me?"
"You're very good at convincing."
"Because you're hardheaded."
"..... Kinda."
She chuckled at his reluctancy to admit his stubbornness, and he smiled.
He loved hearing her laugh.
He removed his hand over hers that had remained on his jaw, his fingers brushing against something in his jacket pocket lightly.
Her eyes flicked to the pocket, but paid no mind of it.
Instead, she tugged on his shirt's collar.
"You're going to sleep."
"Five minutes."
"Ten."
"Six--"
"Ten or fifteen minutes. Give or take."
He pouted, but there's no actual sign of upset from him.
"Fine. Ten."
She grinned, untangling herself from his hold and walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder as an invitation for him to follow.
He turned around.
Only to turn off the desk lamp.
Then he made his way to follow her.
Scattered papers forgotten.
His hand into his jacket pocket, fingers curling over something small and square.
Then he picked up the pace, eager to catch up with Zia.