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“Hey, Stelle! Come on, get your butt over here!”
Stelle almost rolled her eyes when she heard Wolfie’s voice beckoning for her from the other room. Right, tonight was one of those nights. Normally she would be at least a little more excited about it, but tonight felt like an exception.
The problem was that Blade had, once again, whipped up a decadent meal… and combined with a hard day of work, it meant every single cell in Stelle’s body was voting unanimously in favor of a blissful food coma!
Nevertheless, Stelle stifled a yawn against her hand as she trudged into the living room, where two of her fellow Stellaron Hunters were already waiting, seemingly more energetic than she was. Silver Wolf and Firefly were seated on the couch, VR goggles perched on their heads, and the TV in front of them was displaying a selection of video games from the former’s personal collection.
“There you are,” the hacker poked her head up from where she sat. “We decided that the loser has to help Blade file taxes next week.”
“Since when did our gaming session develop such high stakes?!”
The image of herself hunched beside Blade for hours on end, suffering through his meticulous, perfectionist gaze watching over her as she scrunched numbers, was genuinely sobering—but her eyelids have had a will of their own ever since dinner, and she wasn’t sure if even the threat of doing taxes could quell them.
“Seriously, I’m really sleepy,” Stelle said with an involuntary yawn that only emphasized her point. “Can I just sit this one out and watch?”
“And have you lose by default? That works for us,” Silver Wolf snickered, nudging Firefly next to her with her shoulder, who only offered a giggle in response.
“Fine.”
Sighing, Stelle retrieved her own set of goggles and returned to the couch that will eventually become their battle station.
As she approached, Firefly happily scooted away from the armrest she’d been quietly monopolizing. And with Silver Wolf (wo)manspreading her legs and occupying the opposite side, there was nowhere left for Stelle to sit but on the corner beside Firefly… not that she had been considering anywhere else, anyway.
She plopped herself down and her thoughts, in a laggy manner, jumped to conclusions—did Firefly plan their seating positions? What did that cheeky expression on her face mean? Had she, with great strategic patience, trapped Stelle in her personal corner, like how the demon lord in the start menu on the TV right now would kidnap the heroine?
The idea was, frankly, flattering—but as soon as the soft cusion pressed against her back, every line of overthinking went out the window, replaced by the overwhelming desire to just doze off.
An urge to fall asleep, so intense that she didn’t notice slender fingers prying the controller away from her hands until it was already gone.
“Bwah?” Stelle surfaced from the shore of dreams like someone who almost drowned. “Kafka?”
“You’re joining us?” Firefly tilted her head at the new arrival. An unusual sight, indeed.
Kafka, the woman in question, only smiled.. “My, I simply felt bad for Stelle and thought that perhaps, I should play in her place and spare her from such a gruesome fate.”
The woman strutted over to the other edge of the couch, fixing Silver Wolf with a look that communicated, without words, that she should stop (wo)manspreading and place her legs somewhere else. The shorter girl obliged, shifting into a better, healthier posture with an annoyed groan, and Kafka settled into the reclaimed space.
“Seriously, you’re joining us for games?” The hacker glared at her, still in disbelief at the thought. “Finality must have arrived sooner than Elio expected.”
“Well, I suppose I could use the practice,” Kafka said, examining the controller that was clearly unfamiliar in her hands. “For Bladie’s and my next script, Elio did mention wanting us to achieve a… what was the phrase.? #1 Victory Royale?”
Silver Wolf groaned, but it seemed to catch Firefly’s curiosity.
“Is that why you’ve been practicing those odd dances in front of your phone?” Firefly asked, the puzzle that’s been bothering her for weeks finally having an answer. “I swear I always see you doing at least six or seven different ones every day.”
Kafka only smiled. “Good one, little bug. As the kids say these days, six seve—”
“Okay, stop!” Silver Wolf interrupted before Kafka could finish that sentence, much to Firefly’s confusion. “This fic’s gonna age badly if we keep mentioning these outdated memes!”
Stelle only laughed at her outburst, their antics keeping her awake for a little longer.
Still, it didn’t take long for her drowsiness to return. As funny as it was watching Firefly rack up wins, watching Wolfie’s Hidden Frustration escalate in real time, and Kafka having absolutely no clue what she was doing, it turned out that Stelle knew nothing of the weight of power that gravity had on her eyelids after all.
Her eyes closed, and her muscles relaxed as sleep quietly claimed her. She wasn’t sure how much time she spent in that state, but she clearly didn’t even notice when her head started to slide and hang precariously off the back of the couch, until a gentle hand found her shoulder and shook her awake slowly.
How long had she dozed off? No clue, but the TV was still going, and she could hear Silver Wolf basically reciting tutorials and giving a lecture about button layouts to Kafka, so probably not for that long.
“Stelle,” Firefly whispered, close and quiet. “You’re going to wake up with a stiff neck if you sleep like that.”
“Hm. Yeah, you’re right,” Stelle mumbled, agreeing with whatever Firefly said somewhere in the vicinity of consciousness.
She was still half-asleep when she felt Firefly’s hand shift, moving up past her shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against the warm of her neck, before settling at her temple and guiding her head down, gently, until she came to rest against Firefly’s shoulder.
“Here. You can lean on me instead.”
Stelle hummed contentedly, letting Firefly have her way without complaint. Still, she was taller than Firefly, so it was a bit awkward—Stelle had to shift her butt further into the corner of the couch until she found an angle that worked—but Firefly’s shoulder was warm, and whatever scent of shampoo she used for her hair was certainly pleasant. The small sounds of the room—the game, the bickering—all settled around her, blending into a comfortable dream.
Her breathing slowed, and she soon returned to her peaceful slumber.
“Gross,” Silver Wolf stuck her tongue out when she turned to look at them. “I look away for 5 minutes and you normies are already flirting.”
It didn’t really bother Firefly, though. She seemed perfectly proud of the fact that she got Stelle in this position. And it didn’t bother Stelle either—mostly because she was already asleep, tucked against the warmth of Firefly’s shoulder like it was the place where she most belonged.
She slept soundly enough, in fact, that she didn’t stir when a frying pan lightly bonked against Silver Wolf’s head, nor did she stir when the hacker let out a surprised yelp.
“Hey! What the heck—” Silver Wolf reached up to cradle her skull, twisting her body to find Blade looming over the couch, apron still on, frying pan gleaming and sparkling clean with a spotless shine as if he had just left in the middle of doing the dishes.
“You didn’t even touch your vegetables,” he growled. “Do you know how long it took me to learn that part of the recipe?”
“So what, now you’re trying to give me brain damage?!”
“No, the lack of nutrients and an unbalanced diet will take care of that. You’re filing taxes with me tomorrow.”
“No, wait, please! Anything but doing taxes!”