Sandstorm {Discontinued}{Rewritten}

31. The Bratva and the Flash

Leonard didn't remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes Gideon had informed him it was now mid-afternoon -- according to Siberia's time frame anyways.

So, he figured he had either spaced out or dozed off for a few hours. Either way it was annoying coming to in the middle of the afternoon, considering Rip had said they'd come up with a plan to rescue their team in the morning.

Why hadn't anyone come to get them? Or better yet, why hadn't Gideon woken them once morning had hit? It wasn't like computers needed sleep. There was no excuse as to why she couldn't have just set an alarm or something!

Deserey was still snoozing next to him, curled up against his side. Leonard glanced down at her, taking note of how peaceful she looked. It was the calmest state he'd ever seen her in, like all her anxieties and worries weren't an issue any more. As if she wasn't completely depressed and suicidal. It was nice.

Though he probably would have appreciated it much better if she hadn't been sleeping directly on top of his arm, causing a distinct tingling to run up and down his limb.

Leonard grimaced slightly as the tingly spikes jabbed at his fingers, wondering just how the hell he'd managed to get his arm trapped underneath Dez's form when his hand had been nowhere near her before they'd fallen asleep.

Still, he didn't bother trying to remove his arm, lest he wake her. He wasn't sure why he even cared. If she were anyone else he would have already thrown her to the floor and kicked her out, especially after she'd just confessed to spying on him, accidentally or not.

Len shrugged it off, deciding it probably just had something to do with the suicide watch group he and the others had put together for her. If she was sleeping, then she couldn't run off somewhere and try killing herself while he was busy trying to save his partner. (And the others.)

Deserey shifted a little in her sleep, and Leonard winced again as the movement sent a ripple of needles running over his arm. She mumbled something in her sleep. At first Leonard couldn't make it out, but then he heard something like, "But your honor, how can I have robbed that bank if I was already wearing the prison jump suit?"

Leonard raised an eyebrow, watching as Deserey woke with a small, startled gasp. She glanced up at him, smiling sheepishly. "Someday I'm going to have to finish that dream to find out if I'm guilty or not."

Len smirked, rolling his hand around to get his circulation back as she sat up and stretched her arms. She glanced at him. "Sorry, did I put your arm to sleep?"

"You also shot it off with my own gun," Leonard reminded her.

Dez winced, covering her face with her hands. "I'm really never going to live that one down..."

"Nope," Leonard agreed. He eyed her briefly, an odd sensation forming in his gut as he watched her. It sort of felt the same way his hand did when it fell asleep, those prickly needles flailing around, poking everything. It was uncomfortable, but somehow not exactly entirely unpleasant. Mostly just unfamiliar.

He filed all his thoughts on the matter away for some other time. Instead, he changed the subject, finding his pinkie ring on the bed side table and twisting it on to his finger. "So, your dream self is a convict?"

Deserey shrugged, pushing her curly hair out of her face. "Maybe. Pretty sure I was framed though." She grabbed the hair tie from around her wrist, pulling her hair up; though one strand fell back in her face during the process.

Something about that had the needles returning much more fiercely. Leonard glanced away from her, turning his ring on his finger; miraculously, he still managed to speak with his usual, calm drawl. "That's what they all say."