Bodyslam

Go to Sleep

A/N: It's been a rough couple weeks for everyone. Much of my focus has been on the protests in the wake of the George Floyd murder and doing what I can to help. As such, I didn't prioritize writing & editing this week.

I do have a short chapter for you in hopes of bringing some small amount of cheer and distraction. Enjoy a short interlude of cute fluff, set immediately following the previous chapter. It's not as edited as I normally like but hopefully it's not a complete mess.

BLACK LIVES MATTER. SAY THEIR NAMES. 

"Hey."

Hmf.

"Hey."

Hmmmf.

"You can't sleep here, quit growling at me."

Mitch opens his eyes to see where here is.

Here is apparently the passenger seat of Snacks' car in - it takes him a second to recognize where they're parked - the lot of Snacks' apartment. He looks around, blinking and perplexed. "Thought we were gonna get dinner."

Snacks huffs a laugh. "You crashed hard like two minutes after we drove away from the arena and when I tried to ask if you still wanted food you just flipped me off. I drove home instead."

"Coulda stopped. You're hungry," Mitch rubs his eyes.

"I've been told I have more balls than brains but I'm not stupid. Delivery is a thing that exists. Outta the car, go inside and sleep. I'll order us something."

There's no reason to argue with any of that.

***

"Hey."

Uh-uh.

"Hey."

Uh-uhhhh.

"Up. Food's here."

Mitch opens his eyes. He knows where here is but it still takes a second to adjust.

"Time's it?" he mumbles.

"Quarter after nine. I let you sleep a little before I ordered."

Mitch's stomach growls. Two hours is more than a little. He groans and struggles to a sitting position. "You didn't have to wait."

"I didn't mean to wait quite that long. Decided to research some ideas I had for new gear and next thing I knew it was an hour and a few hundred bucks later." Snacks pulls a container from the bag he's holding and passes it over. "I realized I have no idea what you normally eat so I got Chipotle. I think I got your order right, at least mostly. Please don't spill on my bed."

Still too groggy to process most of that, Mitch just blinks at him.

"The food," Snacks clarifies. "Don't spill the - are you okay?"

"I am so, so tired."

"The whole lack of eating thing probably doesn't help."

Eating. Yes, food is definitely needed. But - "I should go home. You haven't had any downtime since yesterday morning."

Snacks shrugs. "You're not in the way. Why don't you get some dinner in you and then decide if you're awake enough to drive."

Well. That sounds reasonable.

***

"Seriously, I don't mind. If you're tired just go to sleep."

That's exactly what he'd like to do but, "I feel like I'm taking over your entire Sunday."