Sleep

Written in response to cottoncandy_bingo prompt: sleep (wild card). This is post-ep for 5x08 - 36 Hours. Established relationship. Characters are not mine, please enjoy! Comments are awesome.


It's been fifty eight hours and twenty seven minutes since Colby has last seen a bed. His bed. His glorious, amazing bed. Sure, there had been a few quick cat naps on site, but those fleeting chances for sleep were hardly restful, what with the chaos of the crash in the background.

Now that the people have been rescued, the bodies recovered, the bad guys locked up, and the scene dealt with, it's time for a break. Don's given the whole team two days to recover from the madness and Colby plans to spend as many of those forty eight hours asleep as possible.

A quick dinner and a long hot shower had been the only things standing in the way of that plan, and with those out of the way, Colby makes for the bed, clad in an old Army t-shirt and the most comfortable sweat pants he owns.

But, then there's a knock on the door.

No.

No, no, no.

"Colby, it's me."

Charlie, Colby thinks, is probably the only person he doesn't mind seeing right now. He turns away from his bed and heads for the living room of his small apartment, opening the door to greet the other man. "What're you doing here?" He asks, dragging a hand over his tired face.

"I... I couldn't sleep."

Colby sighs, opens the door wider and motions for Charlie to step inside. He catches Charlie's shirt and pulls him in close as he passes, steals a long, slow kiss and revels in the warmth and life of the man before him after all the tragedy of the train crash. Charlie'd been a little closer to this one that he would have liked, being the one to watch the life fade out of those two teenagers, being the one to discover that lady's body. "Nightmares?" He guesses, and he gets a nod against his shoulder in response. "You saved people today, Charlie. That little boy, that old man. They'd be dead, too, if you hadn't told us how to get to them safely."

"I wasn't fast enough. I..."

Colby stops him before he can head down the dangerous path of 'should have's and 'what if's. There's nothing to be found that way, except for more questions, more sleepless nights. "You were going as fast as you could. There wasn't anything anyone could have done to save the others. We wouldn't have been in there any sooner. You know that."

Charlie sighs in defeat, "I do," he agrees, though the frown on his face suggests he's not entirely okay with happened today. "I'm sorry, I'm just..."

"Tired," Colby finishes, "I know. We all are."

"I should go, I shouldn't have bothered you."

"You're no bother, Charlie. Not ever," Colby assures the other man, catching him as he tries to backpedal toward the door. "And stay, if you want. We both need some sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah," Charlie gives in with a nod, and Colby herds him into his room, into his bed. The lights are flicked off, the blackout curtains on the windows are drawn carefully closed. Charlie strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed - hardly the first time he's been there - and shifts closer to Colby once they're both under the covers. Limbs tangle together easily, familiarly, and they both seem to settle like that, Colby's chest pressed flush to Charlie's back, both pleasantly warm from the close contact. The stress of the last thirty-six hours (coupled with the twenty Colby had been up and working before that) finally starts to fade, and sleep comes easily to both of them.