[To hell with just falling asleep in uniform. He could probably fall asleep sitting up, right now. But he doesn't, hasn't, if only through stubbornness, force of will. He ducks his head as if to nod, but he doesn't really make it there. As if raising his head again is too much effort, he leans to press his face into the shoulder beside the hollow of her neck, the familiar fabric of her scarf. The hand twisted into his bedsheets seeks hers out to wrap around her wrist, firm against her pulse. Not so hard a grip that she'd have trouble escaping it, but tight enough to make the message clear.
He doesn't speak to insist. It's loud enough an answer, anyway. (Don't.)]
no subject
He doesn't speak to insist. It's loud enough an answer, anyway. (Don't.)]