Barnaby doesn't want to sleep.

To be frank, he's never been fond of it. Sleep hinders more so than helps, cuts time out of his schedule when he could be doing other, far more constructive things. Now, it bothers him because he isn't awake while Kotetsu is here, when he should be at the man's side, placed there by some fate and bond stronger than he had ever previously contemplated.

It's funny, to have gone a year without and yet feel as strongly – if not even more strongly – than before. There's an ache in his chest, a twist that makes him breath in deep, exhale slow, curl his fingers into his own palms as if kneading away that almost-pleasant pain of wanting. Oh, does he want. He wants to slip back into bed, to curl himself up and around Kotetsu, to kiss his hair and neck and shoulders and lips, to taste him again and again and know him even more deeply.

He doesn't want to sleep.

He should sleep now, when Kotetsu is doing the same, sprawled out in his bed, sated and content for what looks to be the first time in a long while. Barnaby's happy to be responsible for that, but he sits awake all the same, perched up at his laptop several feet away, looking at nothing for hours save for Kotetsu out of the corner of his eye, as strong and warm and real as he always has been.

It's good, knowing Kotetsu is still Kotetsu, even after all this time.

Those thoughts are what make Barnaby relax, are what make him doze, drifting a little until he slumps and folds his arms and lies not directly on his laptop, but upon the desk in the fore of it. He thinks, half-asleep, that perhaps he cans till smell Kotetsu on his own arms from when he last held the man, and laced within his fingers, the scent of the older man's shampoo from when he grasped his hair and pulled him close and kissed him.

Those are good thoughts, thoughts that make him slowly drift to an easy, restful sleep, no matter the awkward position, and Barnaby is like that for hours until Kotetsu rises, sees him, and unbeknownst to him until he wakes late the next morning, carefully moves him to that bed, draped in blankets and laid upon comfortable pillows.

Because really, what can one ask for more, than someone that cares how you sleep, how you rise, and how you will feel the next day?