MONDAY
He's trying not to doze off at his desk when Eames suddenly stands, stuffing her hands into her back and arching her body out towards him as she stretches. He looks, as he always does, and she pretends not to notice, as she always does.
"It's getting late, Bobby. Time to go home."
"You go ahead," he tells her. "I think I'm going to stay for a while yet."
She shakes her head. "You're not sleeping again, I can see—"
He rustles some papers. "I'm fine."
He's not.
His partner slides her coat on (the puffy one, today), and then unexpectedly leans over him. Grasps his shoulder. "Get some rest, Bobby."
He nods against the presence of her so close to him, thinking stay stay please stay and yet go Eames oh Alex you're tired you look tired go home and savor some sleep if you can.
She goes.
He glances at the clock. Ten past ten.
Hours to go yet.
He puts his head down and continues going through files until it's three in the morning again and he can't stand it any longer. He flings his arm out on his desk, a sorry makeshift excuse for a pillow, and his eyes close. He's not so much sleeping as just passed out, but it's dark and quiet and still so he'll take it.
A/N. Wow, so I remember this as being longer (it's been a couple of months since I've written this). Anyway, either Tuesday's or Thursday's is a decent length.
