21

                                    

                                          
just sleep, that’s what we do at night
                          

                          
Dan’s been up for thirty-nine hours straight. No joke, no exaggeration. Actually thirty-nine hours without a break to nap or close his eyes. One minute he was filming a video and the next he was watching and critiquing a film and then he cooked her dinner and then he had to edit the video but then his film editing software crashed and then he had to go to the Apple store and then he had to come back and refilm and from there, the entire night just sort of dissolved into a caffeine fueled nightmare that resulted in a thirty-nine hour marathon. 

But now he’s crashed. And she’s just trying to get him to accept defeat. He doesn’t want to, of course. The video isn’t finished and twitter is exploding for demands of what he promised. His fans aren’t often too forgiving of his meeting deadlines. A shiver traces up and down her spine as she remembers the waxing incident.

"C’mon, let’s get you into bed," she says, pulling him up from his desk. 

He doesn’t fight her or try and shrug her off, but he does whine. 

"I’m not tired."

She rolls her eyes and looks down at him as he sits down in bed and tucks himself under the covers. 

"Oh, really?" She questions.

He sure looks ready to sleep, his head on the pillow and his eyes too heavy to keep open any longer. She thinks for a moment, one fleeting and silly moment, how handsome he is, even in this state. Brushing it away before she can think more of it and fall any further down the fangirl rabbit hole, she turns around, intent on saying goodnight and going back to her own room. 

"Nope."

But he won’t let her go. He never did know when he was beaten. 

"You look pretty tired to me," she responds.

Even when he’s exhausted, Daniel Howell never eases up on the sass. She sighs. She should have expected this.

"You need to get your eyes checked, then," he quips.

With a roll of her eyes, she mutters a goodnight and is halfway to the door when she hears a small voice.

"Come lay in bed with me."

It’s a question. An honest-to-goodness question. A little afraid, a little tentative and hesitant. She folds her arms over her chest. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to. Not that at all. It’s just… They’re friends. Friends don’t cuddle in bed like this.

"Go to sleep, Dan," she begins, hand reaching over to flick the light, "You’re tired."

"If I were tired," he challenges through his slurred, half-asleep voice, "could I tell you I love you?"

Her heart stops. They’ve been friends for a while, sure. And there’s always been… well, something there. But this? She isn’t… She doesn’t…. Did she even hear him right?

"What’d you say?"

But, by the time she’s able to stammer out the words, he’s fallen asleep. The bastard.
                          

                          

                          
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