Guys' warehouse- Saturday morning

[gotyoucookie]

Second verse, same as the first. You made it through the slumber party! Time to wake up, grab some coffee and breakfast- it's the most important meal of the day- and head on out.

And if you wanted to thwap someone with a pillow again, that was fine, that's why all the other stuff from last night was still there.


[Open, no OCD! For wakeups and food!]

Comments

[stykera]

Stark hadn't slept much, just dozed off briefly a few times.

He now had a coffee with more sugar than was necessary in hand and a pop-tart in hand. Was he going to toss another pillow in Anakin's direction once he'd finished his breakfast? Probably.

[sith_happened]

As long as he didn't knock over Anakin's coffee, in which case there would be war.

[stykera]

Well, oops?

"I was aiming for your head..."

[sith_happened]

A person not Anakin would have allowed for this sort of mistake. Anakin waved his hand and lifted every pillow in the place into the air, then aimed them all at Stark.

"Oops," he deadpanned as they went flying.

[stykera]

Well, that had been enough pillows from enough directions to get Stark to stumble and then end up buried under rather a lot of pillows.

"Excessive response," he protested weakly from underneath the pillows.

[sith_happened]

"You spilled my coffee," Anakin said, like that was an explanation.

[stykera]

"That was an accident," Stark countered as he unburied himself. "You hit me on purpose. Again."

[sith_happened]

"Yes, yes I did," Anakin said with a little smirk.

[stykera]

Stark sighed and shook his head.

This was such an odd friendship (?).

"Was that really necessary?"

[sith_happened]

"No," Anakin said, grinning, "but it was very enjoyable."

[stykera]

"It wasn't enjoyable for me."

That was the point, Stark.

[sith_happened]

"That wasn't really my priority," Anakin admitted.

[stykera]

"I noticed," Stark said, kicking at a pillow. "Somehow."

[but_mostly_america]

Sam had not slept at all. Not in these unwholesome conditions! No, Sam had perched somewhere, in his offensively Canadian pajamas, and kept watch for any shenanigans all night long.

And now that the exit seemed to be functioning properly again, Sam was marching out of the warehouse with as much dignity as a blue felt eagle in a Canadian onesie could muster.