The soon-to-be-finished-with-being-a sophomore rolled over, mulling the things that kept him from sleep at this blisteringly obviously late hour into a cud his brain could chew for a time. He noted with the part that wasn't chewing, maybe with just his eyes, since that was all he really needed to do it, that they'd gone to their nightly forms.
He knew they'd agreed earlier to keep Couple A with Members A and Couple B with Members B, but this was how they slept: Seme A with Uke B.
He allowed himself to wrap his mind around the concept--yes, concept--around the one he was facing. It came up with a single definition: overawed. Another word surfaced a quick second: special. He smiled. Special. The word made him feel warm. He pressed in closer. Just like you make me feel warm. Too late, he bit his mental tongue.
A large, rainbow-faceted eye half-assed a lazy opening. Gold-hazel eyes gaped back sheepishly. The owner of the latter eyes found himself wrapped in a warm wing cover, the fan's generated wind only slip-streaming over the top. An arm held him close, head pressed into his pillow-rumpled hair.
In a soft voice that had set so deeply into his bones its displeasure earlier that day that he had wondered if that was what it felt like to fear God, the Archangel murmured, "Go back to sleep, Engel."
The reply was a barely audible, "Okay."
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