Ocean Kisses

Sleepy Sheepy

Tango pov

After we figured out the whole shower situation and gave him time to dry off properly—so he didn’t accidentally keep a mermaid tail instead of his hooved feet—I handed him a set of fluffy pajama bottoms, some underwear, and an equally fluffy pajama shirt.

At first, Zed stared at the clothes like they were some foreign puzzle, tilting his head as if the concept of pajamas was a groundbreaking revelation. “So... these go on how?” he asked, holding the shirt upside down and inspecting it like it might bite him.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You just... put them on. Shirt over your head, pants on your legs. You’ve got this, genius.”

Zed gave me a mock glare but followed my instructions, fumbling a little as he tried to figure out which leg went into which pant hole. When he finally managed to get them on—shirt the right way and pants not backward—his face lit up like he’d just solved the universe’s greatest mystery. “They’re so soft!” he exclaimed, running his hands over the fabric and practically beaming. “And warm! Oh, this is amazing.”

I grinned, watching him practically wiggle in place like an overexcited puppy. “Welcome to the magic of modern comfort, Zed.”

He gave a dramatic sigh of contentment, flopping down onto the couch and hugging himself. “This is life-changing, Tango. Life-changing. Why didn’t you tell me humans had stuff this cozy?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d be this excited about pajamas,” I said, rolling my eyes but still grinning at how happy he looked. “But hey, now you know. Pajamas are a game-changer.”

Zed nodded enthusiastically, his purple eyes glowing faintly with joy as he wriggled deeper into the fluffy fabric. “If this is what life on land is like, I think I could get used to this... As long as I don’t have to deal with that slippery linoleum stuff again.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Deal. No linoleum. Just fluffy pajamas, warm showers, and soft couches.”

“Perfect,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning back, his contentment practically radiating from him. It was a sight I didn’t think I’d ever forget.

I suggested to Zed that it was time to start getting ready for bed, and honestly, I’ve never seen anyone perk up at the idea of sleep quite like he did. It was probably because he’d been eyeing the big, fluffy bed all evening like it was the ultimate prize.

But before he could escape to the bedroom, I stopped him at the bathroom door. “Hold up,” I said, grabbing a towel. “Your hair’s still wet. If you go to bed like that, you’ll wake up with a fever or a cold.”

He tilted his head, his ears flicking slightly. “What’s a fever? Or a cold? Are they bad?”

I blinked. “Uh, yeah. Pretty bad. Fever means your body gets hot—no, not in a good way—and a cold is... ugh, sneezing, coughing, all the gross stuff.”

He squinted at me like I was trying to pull a fast one. “That sounds fake.”

“It’s not,” I said firmly, pointing to the stool by the sink. “Sit.”

He sighed dramatically but complied, plopping down with a slight pout. I started towel-drying his hair, but it quickly became clear that wasn’t going to cut it. His hair was thicker than I thought, and honestly, it was like trying to dry seaweed.

That’s when Impulse and Skizz appeared in the doorway, watching the whole ordeal like it was prime entertainment.

“What are you two doing?” I asked, glaring at them.

“Helping,” Skizz said, grinning like the chaos gremlin he is. “This is fascinating.”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered, grabbing the hairdryer. As soon as I turned it on, Zed’s reaction was instantaneous. He bolted upright, eyes wide, and his horns knocked against the wall with a thunk.