(no subject)
Admittedly, when Mary Jane had told Peter that he needed to sleep and hadn't given him a choice in the matter, she hadn't anticipated that he would sleep for so long. Of course, it really only proved her point, but that didn't make it any less startling. He had still been asleep when she had gone to bed that night, and when she woke up the next morning, too, which was, she supposed, what was the most unexpected. It was only the fact that he had gotten so little sleep for the past week that prevented her from worrying, leaving her, instead, to sit around the hut for a while, until it became clear that he was still pretty much out like a light. Then, she came up with a better plan.
If there was one bright side to having to stay in her old hut for a while longer, it was its proximity to the Compound. Getting to the kitchen didn't take her long at all, and although she couldn't help worrying that he might wake up while she was gone, it still seemed unlikely. What took even less time was retrying the recipe she had found the day before, careful, this time, not to get distracted by thoughts of that one day in December as the wheatcakes cooked; pleased with their outcome, she carried them back to the hut, bringing with her a Tupperware container of fruit and, as she'd promised, a mug of coffee to make up for the one she had poured down the sink the day before. Peter still seemed to be sleeping pretty soundly when she walked back in, but she stayed quiet anyway, setting the food on the desk for the time being, so she could climb back in bed beside him, to be there when he woke up. She only hoped the food didn't get too cold before he did.
If there was one bright side to having to stay in her old hut for a while longer, it was its proximity to the Compound. Getting to the kitchen didn't take her long at all, and although she couldn't help worrying that he might wake up while she was gone, it still seemed unlikely. What took even less time was retrying the recipe she had found the day before, careful, this time, not to get distracted by thoughts of that one day in December as the wheatcakes cooked; pleased with their outcome, she carried them back to the hut, bringing with her a Tupperware container of fruit and, as she'd promised, a mug of coffee to make up for the one she had poured down the sink the day before. Peter still seemed to be sleeping pretty soundly when she walked back in, but she stayed quiet anyway, setting the food on the desk for the time being, so she could climb back in bed beside him, to be there when he woke up. She only hoped the food didn't get too cold before he did.