Slight David/Christopher slash.

The only people who get less sleep than David are insomniacs. And that's not by much. April is sleeping. Jalil is sleeping. Even the Vikings are sleeping. Practically every other person in the goddamn camp is sleeping. Yet he, Christopher Hitchcock, and David were not.

And it was all David's fault. He's broadcasting non-sleepiness vibes like nobody's business. How the hell was Christopher supposed to sleep when David is sitting up and staring at his sword? How?

Stupid prick. Stupid baggy-eyed skinny little prick. Christopher wanted to slap him. No, punch him. Slapping was too girly.

He decided to throw a rock at him instead.

"Fuck." David frowned and rubbed his calf. "What the hell was that for?"

"You're keeping me awake."

"I'm keeping you awake? I'm not doing anything!"

"That's the point! You're not sleeping! You're awake! Let me explain something to you David. I can't sleep until you sleep. You're not sleeping. Hence, I'm not sleeping. And I really want to be sleeping right now, okay, David? Really."

"I'm trying to sleep," he shot back.

"How are you trying? You're sitting up, for fuck's sake."

David doesn't answer.

"You need to sleep. If you don't go to sleep I'm going to knock you out. Seriously."

"Thanks, Chris."

"Huh?"

"Thanks. For caring."

Christopher stared at him for a second. Then he squeaked. "Shit. Shit. We're all going to die tomorrow, aren't we? First you can't sleep and now you get all touchy feely on me. Ka Anor is going to chew us up and spit us out. We are so – "

"We're not going to die."

Arched eyebrow.

"Okay, we aren't all going to die."

"Thanks for that thought."

"Sorry."

"S'okay."

It only took about five seconds worth of contemplative silence for Christopher to want to throw another rock.

"Would you stop that?"

"Would you at least lie down?" Christopher snapped. Goddamn 'I-am-awake-so-you-damn-well-will-be-too' signals. Fuck it.

David threw up his hands. "Sure. Whatever makes you fucking happy." He threw himself onto the ground next to Christopher. "Dumbass."

Christopher turned the other way. "Asshole."

Two minutes of silence.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't sleep."

Christopher buried his face in his hands and sighed. "Me either."

"I know."

Christopher turned back over to stare at David.

"David?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything."

David's eyes got impossibly round. "We are going to die."

They both began to laugh, muffled giggles brought on by hysteria and exhaustion and – in Christopher's case – a bit of alcoholic influence.

"We are so screwed."

"Mhmm."

"D'you think we have a chance? Any chance at all?"

David's eyes slid shut. "C'mon, Chris," he said blearily. "There's always a chance."