Chapter Text
James wasn't sure how he'd got here exactly.
Well, he knew how he'd got here, on this exact spot on their lair's sofa: he'd sat down on an until-then unoccupied piece of furniture. Simple, nothing to it.
But then the kid had rocked up, yawning like he was trying to catch flies and stretching like it would make him grow. James was just cooking up a smart comment about how he couldn't tell which end of unconsciousness the kid was entertaining, when the kid answered the unspoken query by flopping bodily onto the sofa with a bounce and planting his head in James' lap.
James blinked. He watched the kid wriggle, twisting into a position only Ragdoll would find comfortable, sigh...and start snoring.
"You gotta be kidding me."
There was a simple solution: shove him off. But, public menace he could be, there seemed a line of evil he was not ready to cross in private. If only the kid had still be conscious, he would've had no qualms.
There was a snicker from the door. James grimaced at his fate of being observed by Copperhead in his current predicament.
"Sssap," she accused, thoroughly amused. He could only offer her a choice finger as she slid away.
James stared at the not-quite-a-manchild in his lap. What was he supposed to do now? He gesticulated his frustration with flamboyance. He sighed, then, resigned, snatched up the book he'd been meaning to start for a month, and flicked it open.
He was halfway into the first chapter when he came to a deeply unwelcome epiphany: the kid was drooling on his knee.
James buried his face in his open book and gave a tiny scream. What had he ever done to deserve this?
...okay, yeah, don't answer that.