-Sleeping Habits-

No idea where this came from, just a random thing that kinda typed itself. Hope you like! Characters aren't mine!


Tommy realizes in the first week of college that something isn't right. He's barely slept at all, spends hours every night tossing and turning, and always ends up counting ceiling tiles. There are 84, and he's rechecked that fact almost as many times.

He wants to ask Merton about it, make sure it's not something to do with the wolf, but he can't bring himself to do so. Because he knows the other boy will lose just as much sleep over it, and he doesn't want both of them miserable and sleep-deprived.

So he stays quiet, makes himself stay awake through his classes. He realizes he has no problem falling asleep listening to their professors drone on, but Merton nudges him awake whenever anyone starts to notice, shooting him concerned looks, and sooner or later Merton is going to call him on it.

"Thirty two hours."

"Huh?" The werewolf asks, staring at his best friend Saturday night of their second weekend in the dorms.

Merton folds his arms over his chest, sending him a pointed look. "In the last two weeks, you've gotten thirty two hours of sleep."

"You're… tracking my sleeping habits?" He asks, and it's probably not as disturbing a thought as it should be.

"No. I'm just not sleeping, either." He admits.

The older boy is exponentially better at hiding that, Tommy thinks, moving to sit beside Merton on his bed. "Why?"

"Not sure. We're gonna burn out, soon, though, if we can't figure this out."

He's suddenly tired now, maybe enough to fall asleep.

Then it clicks.

"Help me move the beds." He says, offering a hand to the other exhausted boy.

"Are you crazy?" Merton stares, wide eyed, but he accepts the hand and pulls himself to his feet. "What good would that do?"

"Do you really have anything to lose in just trusting me?" Tommy replies, already pushing Merton's single bed toward his own. A moment later, they've rearranged the room, the two beds resting against each other, changed into one.

Merton raises an eyebrow. "And this is going to help us sleep, how, exactly?"

Tommy doesn't answer right away; instead, he kicks off his jeans and exchanges his shirt for an old tank top. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning a moment later top flop across the bed. "Trust me. Get in bed."

"Okay."

He watches his best move about, changing into a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt he stole from Tommy a while back. He, too, makes a quick trip to the bathroom, and pauses at the edge of the bed.

"Come here." Tommy encourages, lifting the covers on Merton's side of the bed. "Come on, trust me."

Merton climbs into bed, then, wondering if maybe this is some big set up that is going to lead to his untimely death because maybe Tommy found out about his secret, about how much he actually wants to be sharing a bed with his best friend. "Are you--" He's not actually sure how to finish that question, but it is answered when an arm curls around his chest, pulling him close.

He nuzzles his nose against Merton's neck, breathing in the comforting, familiar scent of his best friend. "Relax." He can feel how tense the other boy is and starts tracing random patterns on the skin exposed between t-shirt and pants. "This okay?"

"Yeah." He can already feel his eyelids growing heavier. He shifts closer, his head resting against Tommy's shoulder, his own arm resting across the other's stomach.

A quick kiss to the forehead and a muttered "'Night, Merton," and Tommy is out.

Merton follows shortly after, and despite the fact that they've been in close proximity 24-7 since they've gotten here, apparently, it wasn't close enough.