Title: Counting Sheep
Characters: Lavi, Krory and implicitly, Allen
Word count: 393
Setting: D. Gray-Man, during the sea journey to Edo
Summary: Sleep: it looks easy enough when other people do it.
Notes: written from two prompts from my flist. became_fire asked for Lavi and Allen, smut or gen, enemytosleep asked for "Lavi thinks about Allen late one night on Anita's ship (slash or not, up to you)". Slash or not? Up to you. XD
Disclaimer: Not mine. All hail the Great Cow! Hail her even though this is not an FMA fic.
You wouldn't think to look at him, but Krory really snored.
Lavi stared at the dim outlines of the wooden ceiling and tiredly, crabbily ran through a list of amusing ways to stop people snoring. He could stick things (corks? bits of cloth? Krory's bangs?) up Krory's nostrils. That could be funny, but Krory was kind of difficult to sneak up on, even asleep. He could ping Tettsui across the room to poke Krory awake, and see if he could get it back before he realised. That one was probably out too, the guy had crazy vampire reflexes. Bucket of cold water? Not original enough. He could put on a girly falsetto and whisper in Krory's ear, "Oh, Arystar, do stop" - no, that was just a low blow. Or he could just shove his own headband into his ears and attempt to think of more charming people and places. Maybe, although he never trusted his own powers of concentration.
Abruptly, Krory snorted and turned over.
The silence was delicious. Lavi exhaled hugely, blowing his bangs up over his face, and then turned around a couple of times, curled himself in the blanket in his hammock, and prepared to get an excellent night's sleep.
An hour later, he was still wide awake.
For the first few minutes, he blamed Krory and cycled through a series of new and insulting nicknames for him (it said a lot about his increasing exhaustion that the best one was "Toothy"). For the next few, he attempted to distract himself with idle sexual fantasies, and to try to stop people he worked with popping into them. But when, this - his number-one long journey, can't sleep go-to solution - failed, he had to admit to himself what he was really doing.
He was stewing. Again. He really wasn't supposed to do that. Taking an interest in people, excellent. Liking people, fine. Baiting people, better than fine. Caring for people, not ideal. Missing people, worrying over them, grieving them - he was absolutely not supposed to be doing that. Panda would probably be more enraged to catch him crying over someone than schtupping them. Not that either of these things were any of the old man's beeswax, but - well.
Sometimes, late at night, Lavi entertained the possibility that he was going to make a really crap Bookman.