AN: To be fair, hair-in-mouth is a horrible feeling.
The Puppeteer Patient 120402-Yeah, you should've. Oh, well.
World of sleeplessness-What'd he do?
The heater went out, and they were forced from their preferred sleeping position (nice, big space between them, no touching of any kind) to a miserable one (clustered together like a couple in a romance novel).
Sleep is not happening tonight, but it's too cold to have sex for warmth-they tried already and it was just not happening.
"It wouldn't kill you to get a haircut."
"Shut up."
"It's everywhere."
"Oh, wahh."
Christ, it's cold. Why does it have to be so cold? And why now, when they're bruised and sore and not at all prepared for this?
"Seriously, would it kill you to put it up?"
"It's a blanket of warmth, leave it alone."
"Jill-"
"If you'd shut up, it wouldn't be in your mouth."
He jabs a still-healing bruise on her abdomen and feels a little better about his predicament. He changes his mind a minute later when she moves, digs cold toes into his ankle.
"Stop it."
"Then let me sleep."
"Get your hair out of my face!"
"Shut up and it won't be a problem!"
She rolls over and glares at him. He glares right back.
"I have no body fat to spare, leave my hair alone. It's warm."
"I don't have any either, and I'm wasting energy trying to get it away."
"Too bad."
They glare for a minute more before she rolls over and scrunches back up against him, arms crossed.
"Shut up and let me sleep."
How long do dead bodies stay warm for again?
Not long enough, he decides. He'll stick it out. He's been in worse conditions.
But not many.
They lay there in silence before she elbows him in the ribs.
"Stop breathing so loudly."
"I'm breathing!"
"It's loud, knock it off!"
Just to spite her, he breathes louder. She says nothing, just squirms a bit until he ends up with a mouthful of hair.
This is going to be a long night.
THE END