ACCIDENTAL AFFECTION ⌠ ll  @tenschie  ll  accepting !  ⼠for your muse to cuddle up next to mine while asleep on the couch
Sleep is for the damned. Only the paranoid but reckless, only those at the limit of bodyâs resources.Technically, anyone who doesnât seek to die within a span of [ fewer days than most think ] participates in this event.     To Sasoriâs mind [ paranoid, rarely reckless outside of calculations ], sleep is for those who donât care to stay on guard any longer.
She could kill him, and he seeks to test her. ( Granted, heâs little reason to suspect her interest in his demise, but logic could not overpower caution. )
[ Would it be too great a leap, to say perhaps he trust her - if only  not to kill him as he sleeps? If only to face him for one last battle? Or has he just become that tired. ]
The inn sheâs ⌠lead him to is closer to decrepit than comfort can appreciate. Still, thin walls make for lower risks and worthless furniture makes for nothing to mourn. Both classed S and in their thirties - marks of those who know the value of coming prepared. Theirs are seals almost without match, and those be placed about the shoddy room to keep watch in humansâ stead.
       And he is, very, tired.   Fuck her, anyway. If she wants to baby him this badly, so she will ( what should he care anymore ).She leaves him a mess of confusion, frustration, a hurt that infuriates him more than anything else. For he holds on where he should not. And he cannot seem to prefer a severing of ⌠well. If there are ties betwixt them.
But even amid carelessness and caution both, Sasori does not truly sleep. Is neither blind nor deaf to the stillness of her form as study traces his, the quiet emphasis on noise as she takes a seat beside âThat is not beside him. Freshly invigorated, oneâs heart beats fast and obnoxious. Amber hues - WIDE yet blind, senses abruptly fixated on the weight and heat of anotherâs body upon his.Â
       For whatever ( surely incongruous ) reason, an image of lion cubs        flits through his mind. Sticks there, sinks in. Unbalances his pulse.
OF COURSE, she doesnât bother with explications ( it is her silence that drives him mad - how to decide when he knows nothing? ).
⌠but push her off he does not.
[ Resettles with minute motions, somewhat stiffly. Forces closed his eyes and  sinks into the fevered throb within his chest.  Ignores? Yet relishes. ]
Sleep doesnât approach him in those few hours shared, but rest seems to.
