Huh, he thought for the second time in a short period, that sound coming from underneath him was weird.
“Fox,” Cody (Cody!) said, hoarse from the sleep and from Fox, who was only now noticing that the incredibly soft mattress was not in fact a mattress, but his brother. “Go the fuck to sleep,” he added. Fox ignored him.
Wow, it is really warm in here, was Fox’ second thought of the day. It’s really warm…why exactly is it warm? Fox head hit the pillows again, forcing the air out of Cody’s lungs.
His observational skills had not stopped racing on: We’re not in the sun, it’s pitch-dark, I couldn’t even see Cody, so, why am I warm?
Finally, his thoughts concluded after a few moments in a deduction seldom seen: Oh! Is that why Cody wants me to go to bed? Because it’s dark, it’s dark, it’s late at night!
“Fox, I am not going to repeat myself another time,” Cody’s voice reached him from beyond his…delirium. “It’s late, we scraped you off your desk, you are tired – no, do not try to prove me wrong, you’ll lose that battle – go to sleep,” He sounded tired. Tired, because it was late at night, Fox had remembered.
“And besides,” Cody’s voice shifted into a pattern Fox knew all too well, his voice too sweet for you to decline him, “you’ll wake them”
Yeah, okay, he had Fox.
Wait a minute, “Them?” he asked.
“Yeah Fox. The people laying on top of you”
It was only then, that Fox realised that there was another trooper laying on his body. Exactly across his legs, to be precise. That couldn’t be comfy, Fox declared in his mind.
He thought he knew them, at least from hearsay. Still, no exact names were flying into his minds. Baxter, maybe? Buxton? Fox remembered one of Cody’s with a name like that. But in all honesty, Fox could only guess between the dim lighting and the speculative thoughts. Cody, he knew, though, so he clung to that.
“Cody,” whispered Fox, “Cody, Cody” Cody sighed. Fox must have been quiet for an acceptable amount of time for him to believe that he had fallen asleep.
“What?”
“Kh,” made Fox, repeating the beginning sound of Cody’s name once, twice, thrice, four times; earning himself a scolding for the sound volume: “Fox”
“Co–––dy,” he drew out in return and turned his head, “T’s funny y’know,” the motions paired with his sleepiness slurring his speech significantly.
“Y’name is so yellow. Everything’s so yellow, like, golden golden yellow”
“Mhm,” made Cody.
“Is that so?” asked the guy on top of him suddenly, his voice vibrating through Fox’ body. Oh, yeah, he forgot he was there. Which, actually, right now was the perfect time to ask the guy’s name.
“Waxer,” it was, apparently. “Waxer,” breathed Fox. Deep, dark, warm, rich green, he thought but didn’t say out loud. Like a lush needle forest in the dew-fresh mornings of autumn, his mind added. Like the disgusting drink Thorn ordered last week at 79’s. Waxer, so green like hope and Cody so yellow like the skyscrapers of the Corouscant skyline that get dipped into the blood of the gods in the evening. It’s a colour that – for Fox – stood unreachable over their heads. “Wa––––xer,” Fox said for good measure.
“Alright, you sleep drunk poet,” Cody regained his voice, “I’m putting you to bed now, with effort this time,” encountering much protest from the sleep drunk poet.
“No, commander,” came a fresh voice, sounding much more awake than all of theirs put together. “Please, I want to hear him talk”
“Funny thoughts,” this trooper added after letting his body fall back onto Fox’ legs. Cody sighed for what felt like the fifth time this evening, but was probably only the second. Fox took the opportunity to interpret it as an invitation to keep pondering: “It’s all yellow!” Fox raised himself upright, beginning to talk with more enthusiasm: “The twos are yellow and the y’s yellow and even his armour! Cody has a sun painted on it, have you seen?”
“Yeah, I have,” said Waxer, presumably half asleep.
“All, all yellow. Except for the start,” he paused, “That’s blue. Kh’s blue”, he ended with determination.
Cody responded as if they were small, cadets, again: “Is that so?”
“Mhm”
There was a silence again, everyone slipping back into the sweet relief of sleep. He could hear the ongoing traffic outside the poorly isolated windows shooting past the streets. Fox was nearly back under again and he imagined that Cody had only been waiting for this moment of final silence before dawn would come again, but then a very special thought gripped him. Vigorously, he started shaking his legs, ultimately waking the kid sleeping there again. He groaned.
“Hey, psst,” Fox tried to catch his attention, “Psst. Vod”
“Fox,” came Cody’s voice from below, but Fox ignored him now. He believed that Waxer had already gone to sleep.
“What?”
“What’s your name?”
“Seriously? That’s what you’d wake–“
“Don’t make me pull rank!” A short pause arose in which the kid sighed just like Cody.
“It’s Grey”
A short pause arose, before Fox exclaimed proudly:
“And Grey,”, he looked around as if to ask for approval, “is a Spectator Valkyrie” – a common speeder type – “three hundred and seven in silver”
“What?” shrieked Grey, “Why?”
“Easy,” said Fox, sitting now again, much to Cody’s disapproval, “because grey, the colour, is six and smells of pears but that’s besides the point, because it’s more about how six is small and round and compact and that’s that speeder. And also six tastes grey, like a Spectator Valkyrie three hundred and seven in silver. And it also fits. Goodnight,” with which he slammed himself into the mattress that wasn’t a mattress again. Slowly, he felt the weight on his legs retuning.
“And,” he wanted to begin again, now widely awake opposed to only moments ago, but Cody interfered, before he could say anything else.
“Do not. Start this now, Fox” There was quiet.
“Of course not,” he answered instead, “wouldn’t dream of it”
Heh, get it? Because dreaming and sleeping, he thought, before he too pulled the sheets over his head and knew no more.