So the first thing I'd like to say here is that if a Christopher/Millie fan doesn't try to murder me in my sleep after reading this, I will be extremely surprised.

I've liked Chris/Con ever since I read Conrad's Fate, but that doesn't mean I'm bashing on Millie or Chris/Millie or anything. That being said, feel free to flame. Our heater isn't working and I could use the warmth.

So, yeah. Standard disclaimers apply. Look out for low-flying slash. Enjoy.

R+R!

Insomnia

Conrad Tesdinic looked up at the stars scattered across the black night sky. “How do you know it’s the Big Dipper?”

“Because,” Christopher Chant answered irritably, “that’s what it is. You can see the handle and the bowl and right there’s the Little Dipper, see?”

He took hold of Conrad’s shoulder and pointed up to the constellations, trying to make him see. Conrad squinted and shifted but ultimately sighed.

“I can’t see them, Christopher. All I see is a bunch of little stars,” he said, leaning against the balcony railing outside the French windows in Christopher’s room. “It’s late. Let’s go inside.”

“No,” snapped Christopher. “I’m going to show you the Big Dipper if it takes me all night. Now look, do you see those four stars that kind of look like a box?”

“Christophe-er . . .” Conrad whined. “It’s past midnight. We have classes tomorrow. Whether or not I can see the big and little dippers will not affect me for the rest of my life. Can I please go to sleep?”

“Do you see the box or not?”

Conrad rolled his eyes. “Sure . . .”

“Now you’re lying just to humor me!” For a moment Christopher looked actually angry, but then grinned and rested his arms on the balcony rail. “Fine, if you really don’t want to see Ursa Major, I suppose we could . . .”

“Sleep?” Conrad supplied eagerly. Christopher grinned wider.

“Actually, I was thinking we could raid the kitchens.”

---

“What is it with you and never wanting to sleep in the summer?” Conrad asked his friend around a very sticky éclair. Christopher shrugged as he threw open the icebox.

“I dunno.”

“Well, you must know,” Conrad argued. “Every summer you keep me awake like this, and even if I manage to avoid you I can still hear you wandering around the castle. You must have a reason.”

“It looks as if it might rain,” Christopher said vaguely. Conrad, licking his fingers, glowered at him.

“It does not, Christopher, and don’t change the subject. It’s not like you’re an insomniac or anything . . .”

Christopher wrestled with the top of a carton of ice cream. “It’s not that, I just like staying up in the summer. It’s nice and warm, and you can always hear the crickets, and it’s very peaceful unless it’s thunder storming, which can be terribly exciting. Besides, you can always sleep during the day.”

Conrad considered this as he watched Christopher dig huge spoonfuls of ice cream out of the container and into his mouth. “I suppose it is rather hard to sleep during the summer as well . . .”

“Especially on nights like tonight, when it’s hot and muggy,” agreed Christopher, discarding the empty carton and opening the pantry doors. “I really do think it’s going to rain, Conrad. It’s very still outside and you can’t hear any insects.”

Conrad pulled some cold chicken out of the icebox and looked out the open window. Not even the merest hint of a breeze ruffled the curtains. “I suppose . . .” he murmured, grabbing for some bread out of the breadbox to make himself a sandwich with. “But you never stay up when Millie comes home for summer holidays.”

“Well,” Christopher began, setting the cookie jar back on the counter. “That’s because she’d want to stay up with me.”

Conrad set down his sandwich and raised his eyebrows at Christopher. “So?” he asked.

Christopher paused and turned to face Conrad frankly. “Well, Con, I sort of consider this something I do only with you, is all. I’d feel sort of like I was betraying you or something.”

Conrad choked on his cold chicken sandwich.

Maybe it was the sentiment of what Christopher said, maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was the hint of nausea settling in the pit of his stomach that did it, but for a moment Conrad felt like clutching Christopher and sobbing. As it were, a few fat tears leaked out of the corner of his eye. The feeling passed quickly, however, and, thoroughly embarrassed, he scrubbed his eyes dry.

“You alright, Conrad?” Christopher asked, peering concernedly at him over a thick slice of cake. “Are you crying?”

“No, no,” Conrad said hurriedly, putting his sandwich down and placing a hand over his stomach. “I just feel kind of sick, is all. I shouldn’t have eaten all those pastries.”

Christopher looked unhappily at the rest of his cake. “I think I’m beginning to feel the effect of all that ice cream as well, Con. Heat and nausea do not mix. Let’s go lie down in the conservatory.”

---

The conservatory of Chrestomanci Castle was a huge, glass room with exotic plants and enormous French windows. By the time Christopher and Conrad made it down there it was already raining, a light summer rain that pattered gently on the glass walls.

Christopher walked over to the windows and pulled them open, and he and Conrad sat down on the ledge, letting the rain fall on them. The water was cool and sweet and felt good on their hot faces and unhappy stomachs. Conrad sighed contentedly.

“This is nice,” he allowed. Christopher grinned.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve always enjoyed summer night rain at Chrestomanci Castle.” Conrad turned to look at him.

“You know, I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but I’ll be leaving the Castle in two years,” he said, contemplating the way the rain trickled down Christopher’s neck and into the collar of his shirt. Christopher wrinkled his nose.

“I’m nineteen, so that’d make you sixteen and you’ll go back to Seven A when you’re eighteen . . . so you will leave in two years, Con,” he looked out into the grounds and sighed. “And I’ve only known you for four years. It’s funny, but it feels like much longer.”

“Mm,” Conrad agreed, nodding and flipping his sopping hair out of his face. “Two years sounds like such a short time, but I’m sure I’ll be quite sick of you by the time I have to leave,” he added mischievously.

“Oh, ha ha,” said Christopher sarcastically, and then lapsed into silence.

After a minute, just as Conrad began to feel himself nod off, Christopher leaned over and kissed him.

---

The next morning Flavian Temple awoke to find himself amidst a scene of chaos. From what he could glean from panicked maids, Christopher and Conrad had gone missing in the night and no one, not even Mordecai Roberts or Gabriel de Witt himself, could find him.

Flavian, unlike other elder members of the Chrestomanci staff, knew about Christopher’s summer insomnia and knew he had a tendency to pull Conrad along. Keeping this in mind, he checked all their usual haunts: the kitchen, the schoolroom, the magician’s workroom, and the conservatory, where no one else had bothered to look.

And there he found them, entwined on a chaise lounge in nothing but damp shirtsleeves and pants and fast asleep. He was about to, quite forcefully, wake them up, when he noticed the bags under Conrad’s eyes and decided another hour or so couldn’t hurt.

End.