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A scratchy beard brushes the back of her neck, itching her velvet skin as she tries to fall back into slumber. She doesn't know what time it is. How early or how late the clock on their bedside table reads. All she can really grasp onto is that she is dead tired and she doesn't care. Unfortunately, if her indifference to the time was the worst of her problems, she'd be asleep by now.
One of her issues lays to her right, sleeping fairly sound despite their cramped arrangements. Up close, she can faintly smell smoke and gunpowder on his skin. The scents tickle her nose, but it's nothing compared to the real issue. Jacob is snoring in a way that sounds like he's actually choking. It's an annoying, deafening noise. Grating and earth-shaking to the point she almost can't hear anything else. She can hardly think with him in her ear, snorting and gasping so much that Rook might have actually been concerned if she didn't know this was a nightly occasion.
Behind Jacob's caveman noises is Faith, who is just as bad, if not worse, with her sleep talking. She speaks so loud and clear that Jacob's snoring sounds like white noise. He is almost easy to miss with her conversing as if it were the middle of day. Faith speaks in whole sentences, mostly random things that often don't make sense. Rook can't help and listen even though it's obvious nonsense leaving her lips. Probably because her words are so weird and unusual. Still, she had always known Faith to do this from time to time. So it's not scary or freaky, just annoying and a bit funny.
The nail in the coffin is the quiet man lying behind her. John, the clingiest bitch she's ever known, has pushed himself right up against her back. His hold is uncomfortable by itself, but the warmth coming off the man is fucking crazy. All the Seed boys could compete with industrial heaters, so waking up warm and sweaty is pretty common. John is the absolute worst though. Just being in his arms makes her sweat buckets. Which is why having him basically wrap himself against her back makes her feel like she's in an oven.
Between two noise machines and the walking inferno, Rook realizes she cannot get back to sleep. It's annoying, and she knows if she stays in their bed she'll be unlikable tomorrow. That'll be more trouble than the comfy bed is worth. She decides to take the couch.
Opening her eyes, she begins to untangle herself from the pile of outstretched limbs covering her form. It's a slow process as she tries not to wake the three heralds. Thankfully with Faith being on the opposite side of the mattress there's only two physical obstacles. Rook lifts Jacob's hand off her hip first, setting it closer to his larger form as softly as possible. He reacts to the movement by pulling his arm away, and for a split second she holds her breath, silently praying he'll remain sleeping. Fortunately for Rook, he does. With that little heart-stopping moment out of the way, she begins again. She pulls her feet from in between his, being careful not to knock into John as she unlaces the youngest brother's hand from her own.
Then, the woman delicately slips from the bed. Carefully quiet as she shimmies out from their hold.
Cold relief washes over her the moment her feet touch the wooden floors, but she's so baggy-eyed tired that the sound of walking to the living room couch makes her contemplate crawling back into bed. She knows that she won't. There's no way on Earth she'd be able to sleep in this collaborative hell. Begrudgingly, Rook begins her walk to the sofa. Snores and grumbled questions so strange she has a hard time believing her own ears send her off as unconventional goodbyes. She just sighs, packing away the disturbances for the next time John complains about her leaving bobby pins around.
Her feet ache as she walks out the door, shutting it without a sound. Probably a bit overkill seeing as two inside the room are being beyond loud, but it's not really a risk she's willing to take. Jacob is self-admittedly the grumpiest when woken in the middle of the night. Of course, he doesn't see a big deal with it, but then again, the red head never sees a big deal with anything he does. More often than not, the eldest makes it clear he's pissed about being awoken by throwing a fit and waking every person in the house. That's where a problem worse than sleeplessness comes in.
When she makes it out the room without hearing any protest, a wave of relief washes over her. Her footsteps pick up a normal pace and eventually she's half-stumbling down the stairs. Too tired to realize she's skipping steps, to notice the overhead light or the faint humming coming from below. Light music plays in the background, soft enough she can't really catch it either. If Jacob knew of her lack of awareness, he'd probably have a cow.
It isn't until she's on the ground floor that she actually sees what's going on. Joseph, her only partner who hadn't fallen in bed some time in the night, stands at the dining room table. He holds a steaming cup in one hand as he looks over papers, occasionally breaking to push unkempt hair from his eyes. The Father, as she's heard him affectionately called before, shifts from foot to foot with the music, not even noticing her presence.
"Joseph," Rook makes herself known by sleepily muttering his name. The words are a childish whine, and she half expects him to scold her for the sound.
Instead, he offers his own greeting, a bit more chipper than her own, "Hello darling."
Joseph's voice melts her heart. It's the first thing she's heard tonight that hasn't been nails-on-a-chalkboard quality and she just wants to bask in it. Once he finishes reading his papers, undoubtedly something to do with the church, he begins to take large steps toward her. His walk is lethargic, his eyes are dulled, and When he reaches her, long arms find their way around her waist as he leans down to bury his head in the crook of her neck.
"Can't sleep?" She asks, reaching up to run fingers through his hair. He is practically putty in her hands.
There's a sigh that leaves his lips,"I'm organizing a sermon for Sunday, but can't find the right words. Nothing feels strong enough."
"What's it about?" Rook knows he won't tell her completely. He does this often, never telling her the full truth. Yes, she knows it's for her benefit, but never in a million years did she think she'd marry a man who hid his outside life from her.
Then again, she never thought she'd marry a man who'd invite his siblings into their relationship either.
"Losing faith," Joseph responds, muffled by her skin. The answer is far too simple to be coming from Joseph. He's always takes hours for yes or no questions, so for a question as complex as hers, she expected something a bit lengthier. Then again, he always speaks in short bursts when he's trying to avoid topics.
Rook doesn't dwell on it, taking the hint and switching to a lighter tone, "Faith? How could we ever lose her?"
He smiles, a breathy chuckle brushing against her ear. The older man pulls back from her neck. His hands remain on her hips, but two blue eyes peer into hers now. She very nearly shivers under his gaze.
"I suppose she is hard to miss," Joseph replies, and she turns to tired, relieved giggles. He laughs with her, asking in a gentle voice, "Have you managed to get any sleep?"
"A bit, but I couldn't stay asleep," She answers, still all grins and sleepy eyes.
He hums in reply, moving one hand up to cradle the back of her head, "Jacob keeping you up?"
"And Faith and John," Rook leans forward, resting a heavy head on his chest, "I don't know how they manage to sleep through all the noise they make."
The words don't sound as annoyed as she really is. Joseph makes a sound of amusement at her answer.
"I'm serious!" She cries, "And sound isn't the only problem. John's practically heating the room just by being in it."
Rook slips from his grip, shaking off and stomping over to the couch. There's a bratty frown on her face, but he remains smiling.
"You're taking the couch?"
Nodding, she lays down on the cold leather couch, pulling off a folded throw from it's back. The blanket isn't soft at all. John had bought it for looks rather than actual comfort, but without another choice she's left with the scratchy wool. That or no blanket at all. Seeing as she's still roasting from earlier, that may be an option.
"Well, I guess I should be getting to bed too," Joseph says, shoving papers into folders and stacking up some cups (Far too many cups. Why doesn't he ever put them in the dishwasher? She huffs). She turns to face the couch cushions.
For a few minutes he cleans in the background. Pushing chairs under the table, putting away pens and pencils in drawers, and occasionally pausing to do work when inspiration hits. He begins to hum again. This time the muffled music is recognizable as hymns. One's she knows from the CDs he gave her after she'd complained of going stir crazy a fee months back.
When the lights flick off and the clattering stops, she expects Joseph to head up to bed with the others. It's not uncommon for the man, well, all of her partners actually, to stumble into bed in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time there is enough room on the sides for someone to slip in without disturbing the others. That is only most of the time though. Some nights John sprawls out like a starfish in his sleep, and if you weren't there before him he dozed off, you definitely won't be squeezing in after.
Instead of his footsteps softly ascending the stairs, they grow closer, and eventually he's standing at the foot of the couch. She turns her head to face his moonlit form, "Aren't you going to bed?"
"You didn't think I was going to leave you alone down here, did you?"
Well, yes, she did, but seeing how peculiar they are about her being left alone, his choice makes sense.
"You'd never leave me alone Joseph."