A/N: It's been a –long- time since I've written anything for my OTP. Here goes nothing! ...enjoy!xD

Counting Sheep

Segment One

"One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four sheep..."

Oliver was encountering difficulty sleeping.

There wasn't any reason for him not to get some sleep. The Jurgen Mansion was peaceful and quiet, and so was its Leipzig countryside. The servants weren't scurrying about like rats or anything. It seemed that the crickets were also taking a break.

The night sky outside was inky black and starless, save for the huge moon free from clouds.

Alright, perhaps sleeping conditions were TOO perfect for anyone's liking, but Johnny, Robert and Enrique had turned in for the day, so why can't he?

The petite French boy rolled over in his ridiculously large bed in the dark bedroom and let out a sigh as he stared up at the unseen ceiling.

Why couldn't he sleep exactly?

Frankly, Oliver did not know. Perhaps the ignorance of the problem bothered him so much to keep him awake, but he knew it wasn't that.

So what was it?

"Twenty-five sheep, twenty-six sheep, twenty-seven sheep..."

The greenette felt awfully small on the vast mattress. Numerous downy pillows were just not enough to save him scantily clad form from the cold.

That was it.

Maybe the aircon was just so damned high.

Oliver sat bolt upright in bed and instantly regretted it. The absurdly loose gossamer night shirt slipped past his smooth shoulders, exposing white skin to a harsh breeze.

He stayed still for quite a while, steadying his hitched breathing. Brightly glowing lavender-lilac eyes absently gazed at the gap under his bedroom door. Light from the hallway was pouring in.

The room felt so empty.

The thump of bare feet hitting carpet was louder than the greenette would've liked. He stopped for the second time that night, not wanting to rouse his three other team mates in the next three adjacent rooms, Enrique's being the nearest.

When he was quite sure that he had made no disturbance, the French boy shuffled to the wall where the air conditioning was hanging from and tried to reach the dial.

Oliver was too short.

He jumped...to no avail.

The young chef frantically looked about for a bedside stool and dragged it over to where he was. He jumped on it but still failed miserably.

Plus, the greenette was making too much noise, but at least he was warming up.

And it gave him an idea.

Abandoning the aircon, Oliver dragged the short chair back to where it was and started bouncing on his bed instead, hoping that exhaustion would lull him to sleep.

Boing.

Boing.

Boing.

BOG!

The poor Frenchman bit his tongue to stop himself from crying out. Despite its carpet, the floor hurt like a rock disguised as chocolate.

The thought of that soon vanished when he caught muted sounds coming from the room next to his.

Without thinking, Oliver dove amongst his pillows and feigned a position of sleep.

"Fifty-eight sheep, fifty-nine sheep, sixty sheep, sixty-one sheep, sixty-two sheep, sixty-three..."

It wasn't working.

The mysterious noise had ceased. It might have even been the boy's imagination. So the greenette was back to square one.

Why couldn't he sleep?

TBC

A/N: ...The JohhnyMckilt Productions...redefining oneshots...enjoy!xD and ciAo...