My hair is dripping wet and the drops of water running down my back as a result make me shiver, but I�ve decided I don�t care. Kiyo is distracted and I can�t pass up the chance. Sneaking down the hallway clad only in a pair of jeans, I wait until he walks by to go answer the ringing phone and then grab him, pulling him tightly back against my chest.
�I need a shirt,� I point out in a whisper, hair brushing across his mostly bare shoulder as I lean to leave a light kiss on the side of his neck. It�s hard to tell if the resulting shiver is because of the action or the cold water. I decide it�s somewhat of both as he throws a towel in my face.
�Dry your hair before you get sick. And can�t you ask like a normal person?� He shakes his head slightly and sighs, though that smile is giving him away, �I don�t know why you bother asking in the first place, you never do any other time you steal my shirts and/or jacket.�
�Yes mother,� I chirp, addressing his first comment, then moving on to the rest, �normalcy is overrated anyway. There�s no fun in it. And the fun of asking is why I bothered, of course.�
�Whatever,� he says, waving a hand dismissively, �just go find you a shirt already, then. But don�t put it on yet.�
�Why Kiyo,� I smirk in amusement, �just what are you up to?�
�Answering the phone,� Kiyo says flatly, which makes me wonder just what�s so important that the person on the other end hasn�t hung up yet, �now go lay down.�
�You�re making it sound worse,� I inform him in a singsong voice as he picks up the phone. I didn�t think he heard me, but since he just flipped me off, I suppose he did. �I knew it,� I half-yell, retreating with a laugh before he finds something to throw at me, �that�s what you were up to after all!�
I didn�t really mean to fall asleep, but I apparently did since it was seven when I collapsed onto Kiyo�s bed and now it�s one-thirty in the morning, according to the red numbers of the clock to my right. The collection of gashes I�ve acquired is properly bandaged, and I also note (with disappointment, I admit) that Kiyo�s played the part of a gentleman and given me the bed while he crashes on the couch. I�d say he just needs his space when he sleeps, but a couch is about the most limited place space-wise anyone could choose to sleep.
I head down the hallway after pulling on the light blue shirt I�d thrown onto the pillow earlier, pausing in front of Kiyo as I reach the living room, trying to decide if this is really a good idea. Generally, depriving Kiyo of sleep is the worst mistake one can make, and occasionally the last.
Sure enough, even though I stand behind him as I reach over to poke him in the side, a throw pillow flies unerringly at my face.
�I don�t think pillows are supposed hurt upon impact�� I mutter, rubbing the side of my face it hit while Kiyo slowly sits up and glares at me sleepily; eyes glowing slightly like a cat�s. Or tiger�s, in this case.
�What do you want,� he half-growls, interrupted by a yawn, �do you have any idea what time it is?�
�Yes actually, I do. Do you, or is that why you asked?� He lets himself fall back with a groan, buries his face in the remaining pillow, and decides sleep is more important than whatever I want.
�Go �way.�
�Aw, come on,� I protest, grabbing the arm that hangs off the side of the couch and pulling, �come keep me warm.�
�You only want me for my body heat�� he says into the pillow, using this as justification for not budging.
�Well,� I reply, letting his arm fall and adopting a thoughtful look, �I�d want you for other reasons, but all the bruises I�ve recently acquired ruin that plan.�
��You�re not going to shut up until I get up, are you.�
�Wasn�t planning on it, no,� I say cheerily, catching the thrown pillow before it hits me in the face again, �so get up already!� With that, I throw the pillow back at him and wander back down the hallway to his bedroom. Roughly five minutes later he appears in the doorway.
�I�m here,� he announces, �can I go back to sleep now?�
�Of course.�
�Then move over.�
I comply, noticing a familiar mark on his right shoulder that I didn�t before. Then again, he hasn�t worn a sleeveless shirt lately, it being winter and all. �Hey, we match,� I say as he drapes himself over me carefully, making sure not to rest on any bruises, then curls up slightly, �how cute.�
�Yea, �cute,�� he murmurs into my chest, �you act like it�s a surprise, but I already told you I was going to do it.�
�Well I didn�t think you were serious about going out and getting a permanent tattoo just to show your devotion. It�s unnecessary, really��
�I didn�t do it because it was �necessary,�� he says with a small, content sigh, �I did it because I wanted to. So shut up and go to sleep already��
�I love you, I really do��
�You know I love you too, but I swear�if you don�t stop talking, I�m going to have to kill you��
I wisely choose not to verbally answer that last statement, though I do pull him closer before I finally give into sleep.
