floating in a tin can

jewsinspace
spaceodyssey

Saturday. Shabbat. One is commanded to rest.

Despite the increased trouble he’s been having with sleep recently, Michael obeys. When he has access to a bed during daytime hours his body forces him down no matter how valiantly his mind tries to fight. Today is no different; he’s out cold until after seven PM. It’s a late start for him, and it will make Sunday and Monday even more difficult. Wolfgang will have to help.

At the moment, though, tomorrow and the next day are far from his mind. He’s just begun to wake up, pressing his face against whatever warmth is wrapped up all around him as his eyes squeeze more tightly shut against the small amount of light in the room. He breathes in deep and sighs it out. Already a tiny amount of listless energy is collecting inside him, but he can ignore it for maybe five minutes. There’s nowhere to be. He’s in Wolfgang’s arms. Good.

Except when he wakes up a bit more he realizes Wolfgang is also in his arms, and one of his legs is between theirs, and his face is right against their chest, and it’s not good at all. Michael’s not sure what to do. Should he roll over? Get up? Pretend he fell back asleep and wait for them to leave? In the end he does nothing but lie there silently, worrying and trying not to move a muscle.

lunistice
spaceodyssey

Funny the difference a few months can make. A few months ago, no one in the District wanted to speak to Wolfgang, an outsider and a flatscan; now, they can't go out without being barraged by people who just have a quick question that ultimately ends in a request for (free) help, or by grateful friendly people who hold them up at the bodega. Often going out is more trouble than it's worth. It's not that they're unsocial — okay, no, they're unsocial. Wolfgang is introverted; dealing with other people is draining for them. Not relaxing.

Still, even they need human interaction sometimes. And not just with their boyfriend. Much as they like spending time with him, even Wolfgang knows he can't be their only source of socialization. So sometimes, they go out.

They try to stay local — support local businesses, they tend to support you right back, and it helps your reputation in the community if you make a habit of spreading your money within that community. Also, who wants to take the train just to go to a fancy bar? There's a perfectly good dive bar a block from their shop, and Michael's working late tonight (he does that a lot), so instead of going back to their apartment, they go out to have a few beers. They've dressed down, not wanting to draw attention to themself, but they're a 6' 4" androgynous beauty queen with magic powers, it's a little difficult.

They sit at the bar and order something bottled — at least then you can be mostly sure it's not watered down — and put their head in their arms on the counter, and sigh heavily. Rough week.