The heavy atmosphere of Tartarus may be long gone, but the weight of sleep still hangs over the entire team as they settle back into the lobby. Another Old Document had been found on their search tonight, and since the numbers of 'those' shadows grow smaller (which likely means their time for exploring must be growing shorter), Mitsuru decides that the contents need to be examined immediately.
At some point in the debriefing, Akihiko feels the need to succumb to the very space he sits, and doesn't even seem to mind that stretching out on the couch places the back of his head directly upon Minako's skirt. She hardly has any complaints. To be honest, she often wonders how he manages both early morning runs and late night excursions without such signs of exhaustion more often. She's pretty sure he doesn't make up for it by sleeping in class like she does.
When his eyes close and his breathing becomes more like autonomic puffs, and Mitsuru finishes her thoughts and glances between the pair (still gracing her with default judgement as team leader in regards to such an indiscretion, even as Penthesilea's ice begins showing in her own features at presumed indolence), she quite literally shrugs it off with the rise and slump of her shoulders and a 'shush' gesture towards the rest as they tuck off to their own beds. For all the impulses that tease her mind once they're alone, she remains hands off for as long as she can; simply trying to memorize the peaceful face of an expression which typically carried so much charged fury grounded by guilt. The Fool knows better than to betray the trust that such comfort and vulnerability in her presence implies.
She indulges only in the squeeze of a strong shoulder which fades to a light tracing across his collarbone and up along his jawline to caress his cheek. Then she tickles his nose until twitches of skin betray some level of regained consciousness. "Should probably get to your actual bed soon. I think you overdid it today, senpai," she teases in soft whispers.
Half of a grunt gets caught in his throat as a foggy mind searches for words, "But… You… and Mitsuru… in danger." He rolls over on his side and lazily reaches out an arm before it flops to the edge of her legs. It might have been a simple change in position as a response to attempted wakefulness, but at the same time, she has an inkling he just attempted to throw a punch at the distant images of shadows which memory projected in front of him while formulating an answer. What a dork.
His breath is still light while his body is still heavy. He's not moving anytime soon. It doesn't take much convincing for her to resign to her fate with just a small sigh. She mushes her back into the support of the couch, and rests her head to the side. His hair is far too short to brush any away, but she runs her fingertips around his ear in the motion regardless, "It's okay. Everyone is safe tonight. You did good."
Grammar says 'did well,' but that's not what she means. They don't do well. They do what they can. They do good acts. They do good work. They do good.
He seems content enough with this statement. She feels him hug her knees like a body pillow and pass back out. She rests an arm lightly over his waist and begins to fade herself. She frets a bit over the kinks that will form in her neck from sleeping upright all night. She'll just ask him to work them out in the morning as the apology she doesn't need, but he'll demand she accept anyway.