xp_logs | Monet and Kurt, early Thursday morning.

It was late. It was dark. It was utterly silent.

“Kurt? Kurt? Wake up, Kurt. You’ve stolen the doona again,” Monet said, sitting up and poking the blanket wrapped mound on the other side of the bed. He hadn’t just stolen the blankets. He’d stolen the sheets and most of the mattress protector was rucked up on his side of the bed, too.

Kurt muttered something indistinguishable in a language Monet neither spoke nor recognised, and a three-fingered hand emerged from the bundle to swat at the poking finger.

“Nononono, this awake time,” Monet said and poked him again.

He made a grumbling noise and rolled over away from her, but eventually a ruffled head did appear, yellow eyes blinking. “Was ist?”

“You stole the doona. And all of your extra blankets. Again.”

Finally, on the third attempt, English was achieved. “...in my sleep. It was cold.”

“Well, my feet were hot. I had to open the window. And then you stole them.”

“You opened the window?” He eyed her, then glanced over at it for confirmation. “It is nearly November in New York, Monet. There is frost on the ground.”

“Well, I put the heater on for you,” Monet said, hovering above the bed as she dragged the sheets back into their proper position.

“”There was a draft blowing at me”, he pointed out grumpily. “The heater does not help with drafts. Your logic is strange.”

“You use too many blankets! My feet were hot! I don’t want to have to glom onto you all night just to get a blanket!” and with that, Monet reached out and grabbed the doona, tugging on it. It must have been caught under Kurt or the side of the bed or something, and it tore, the cover and stuffing spilling out all over the bed.

Kurt yelped as he got a face full of stuffing, and promptly fell off the side of the bed in his struggles to shake it off.

“Kurt! You made me break the blanket!" Monet snarled, settling the less damaged half over her legs.

He was climbing back onto the bed, blankets mostly left in a heap behind him, but he stopped at that and looked at her incredulously. “It is my fault you are super strong and pulled too hard? You could just have asked.”

“Yes, it’s your fault. I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t use too many blankets in the first place.” The logic made sense as Monet kicked her sad and unsatisfying remnant of the doona off, leaving it piled on the floor and followed it with all the remaining stuffing.

“”I would really think you would be used to that by now”, he retorted, then sighed. “Perhaps we should just try to go back to sleep.”

“We can’t! It’s four AM and we have no blankets!”

There was a long silent pause, then Kurt reached down to grab the rumpled pile on his side of the bed, depositing it back on the mattress. “Blankets.” Getting up, he marched over to the closet and pulled out another set, which he dumped on her legs. “Blankets.”

“Thank you,” Monet muttered, spreading them out across the bed.

Without bothering to respond, Kurt wrapped himself back up in his former cocoon and lay down.