Atton's Bedroom, MCA #4, Monday Morning

[suitablyheroic]

Atton woke up.

Atton groaned.

Atton turned over and bumped right into a blaster rifle.

He blinked.

"... When the hell did I move all of the blasters into my ro-- oh."

Did he really have to go to class today? He did not want to go to class today.

[[ can be open for phone calls etc or the roomie. ]]

Comments

[myownface]

By some miracle, Sparkle had come home from the party last night instead of just crashing on Tony's floor or bed or on Tony or something.

Less miraculous was the fact that he found himself unable to sleep again, and had spent the night parked on the sofa, playing brainless tapping games on his phone. This was kind of becoming routine, here.

At the first sign of life from Atton's room, the groan and the sound of his voice through the door, Sparkle glanced that way, then pulled his phone's menu screen down to look at the time, then mumbled something incoherent under his breath before calling out, "Breakfast?"

[suitablyheroic]

There was a loud, grumbly noise that probably echoed the word 'breakfast' right back at Sparkle.

Atton was just going to slowly ooze out of bed instead of doing what he really wanted to and yanking the pillow over his head. Yes.

[myownface]

"Sandwiches," Sparkle bounced back, already kind of oozing off the couch and making his way to the kitchen. "Sandwiches."

There were bagels, and there was ham, and there were eggs... cheese... whatever the hell else he could fit in there without hacking off a finger or something. Sandwiches seemed the way to go.

[suitablyheroic]

Pants? Pants. Shirt? Shirt. Jacket? ... too much effort. Shoes? Even worse.

A couple minutes later, a distinctly zombie-esque Atton managed to stumble into the living room, blinking a few times. "Sparks--?"

Beat.

"Right. Kitchen."

[myownface]

"Kitchen," Sparkle agreed, doing the slow, exhausted slog of somebody pulling ingredients from the fridge one by one to contemplate nutritional value, or at least how much effort each one involved. He had kind of tripped up on a jar of jam, which he was staring at with a sort of bemused look on his face. Not on a sandwich with ham and eggs, right? McDonald's did it with syrup in the bun, but those things were nasty, and Sparkle had, like, standards...

Whatever, he set it on the counter anyway. Maybe they'd just have toast and eggs.

"Yep. Kitchen."

Stupid jam.

[suitablyheroic]

Atton staggered his way into the kitchen, where he paused in the doorway for two seconds to squint at Sparkle, remembered the last time he'd paused in this doorway, pulled a face, and kept on stumbling until he was hovering by the fridge. "Everything going all right?"

[myownface]

"Couldn't sleep," Sparkle muttered, giving his shoulders a shrug like it wasn't really a big deal at all. "I'll grab a nap later or something. You?"

You were the one who had spent the weekend as an aggro teen soldier, Atton. Sparkle was just, like, sleepy. Regular background levels of sleepy, these days. For Sparkle, anyway.

[suitablyheroic]

Atton shrugged vaguely. "Could do better without the island dragging up ancient memories," he said, "But I could be worse."

He wasn't curled up in a corner of his apartment.

[myownface]

"The island is an asshole," Sparkle shared, giving Atton a wry smile. "Just wait until it decides to turn me into a little kid or something."

Please, god, let that never happen.

"Always fun when it decides to trot out the messy shit that was supposed to be left back where it was."

[suitablyheroic]

"Yeah, went through that once, glad I'm not there anymore," Atton said, shaking his head. "I think I even know when I was from. Right after a Basilisk war droid killed the rest of my squad."

He eyed Sparkle. "So... sorry."

[myownface]

Sparkle glanced back at Atton, and then shrugged.

"You had some shit to work through. Even I could see that. You also didn't actually shoot me, so you don't really need to apologize."

Because, if he was being totally honest, if he'd woken up in some stranger's apartment and he was armed, he might have actually shot them.

[suitablyheroic]

Atton leaned back against the counter. "I know you think that. And I know I don't like apologizing," he said. "So just take the damn apology, all right?"

[myownface]

Sparkle blinked up at Atton, and then sighed and nodded, looking down at the... somewhat odd conglomeration of foods he'd set out on the counter.

Breakfast sandwiches didn't need mustard pickles. Especially not with jam.

"Apology accepted, then," he replied, and then shifted to lean back against the counter beside him. "And I appreciate it, too."

No harm had been done. But the blaster really hadn't done wonders for his insomnia, either.

[suitablyheroic]

"Right."

Atton took a deep breath. Let it go. And pretended it took some of the tension out of him on the way. "I want to say I hope the next month or so will be quiet," he said, "But it won't."

[myownface]

"It never is," Sparkle pointed out. "Especially when we really fucking need it to be."

You did not want Sparkle to tell you about his month so far, Atton. Not on top of what you were already dealing with, yourself.

[suitablyheroic]

Well, there were definitely some people on the island who wouldn't want Sparkle to tell Atton about his month so far, or Atton might be tempted to use some old-school Sith intimidation techniques to keep them five hundred miles - or preferably, five billion - away from Sparkle.

"I should just put a primer in my room or something," he said. "Maybe along with a lock."