Room 238, Sunday evening

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Aeryn spent her weekend in jail after shooting someone who deserved it, worrying about a possibly-suicidal boyfriend, also worrying that she had no way to contact anyone to check up on said boyfriend, and worrying that she or John might actually have had to go back with Scorpius because she has no idea how bad Peacekeeper Command never wants to hear the name John Crichton again. In short, the weekend's kind of sucked.

After being released by (and threatening) Braca, Aeryn heads back to the dorms, and up to 238. She's looking forward to spending some time in a place without bars.

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Once dressed, she goes to comb her hair out. "You can't tell me you can't at least get dressed. You're also partly on my side."

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"Tired," he mumbles again.

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"I'll move you myself if I have to," she warns.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"Kay," he says and cuddles a pillow.

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Aeryn sighs a "Fine," and goes to do other stuff. Like maybe check her mail. Which will be really funny to her since she just got out of jail for shooting a guy repeatedly in public in broad daylight.

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He frowns when she doesn't crawl into bed with him. So, he pulls himself up and slides the shorts and t-shirt on. "Clothed. Come to bed."

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"I might not be tired," she says, but walks over anyway.

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"Please?" He looks up at her, a little pleading. "I haven't slept in three days."

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That's more than a little worrisome, and she's done with the teasing. Wordlessly, she crawls in beside him, close enough to drape an arm around him.

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He curls around her immediately, eyes closed. He sighs deeply, before letting himself relax against her.

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She's not tired, and is definitely more worried about making sure he sleeps. She stays quiet, rubbing her hand gently against his back.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

John falls asleep quickly tonight, wrapped around her like a clingy teddy bear.