Never once have you ever fallen asleep during Ghostbusters. It just isn't a thing you ever do. And you are very proud to admit to that, thank you very much.
But right now you are very close.
You've got a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and another one drapped across your crossed legs. They're soft and warm and comfortable and really aren't helping you out with the whole 'staying awake' thing. You shift a bit in your seat and pull your knees closer to your chest, the leather couch making noises of protest as you move. Your right hand rests comfortably in the popcorn bowl- as it has been for twenty minutes now- and you're situated rather snugly against Dave's side.
He nudges your hand out of the way every so often so he can grab some popcorn, but otherwise doesn't seem bothered by your current position.
He's another thing to add to that list of things that are comfy cozy.
You're not even really paying much attention to the movie at this point. Mostly you're just wondering why you are you so tired? and what time is it? and when did Dave's bony shoulders suddenly become such good pillows? You yawn and nuzzle your cheek against your bro's arm.
You close your eyes.
Just for a minute! You catch yourself from falling asleep just as you being to doze off, thankfully, and go back to trying to your movie any attention. Who knows when Dave will let you pick the movie again! You have to make the most of this opportunity.
It would probably be smart to move into a less comfortable position, but that sounds like effort and you're quite content where you are now. Several times you tell yourself that you need to move- that John, if you don't get off your boyfriend's shoulder you're going to fall asleep. But instead, you scooch closer to Dave and start to nod off. Your eyelids flutter shut and you start to drift before jolting back awake. And then your eyes close a bit more and you blink several times to try and keep them open. After repeating the process a few times, you settle for watching the movie through half-lidded eyes.
Eventuallly, though, even that doesn't last and your eyes are fully closed after another few minutes.
You shift closer to Dave.
You groan quietly and sit up, forcing your limp body up off the other's. You inhale deeply through your nose and look around the dimly-lit room. The credits are rolling on the tv screen and the popcorn bowl has long been emptied. "Wha happened?" you ask, words slurred with sleep.
"You concked out on my shoulder about halfway through the movie," he responds cooly as always. "You snore, by the way."
You squint at him with a tired gaze. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
He shrugs. "Yeah I tried that but you were out, man. There was no way in hell I was going to get you up no matter how hard I tried. It was like you were trying to stay asleep. I was worried you were going to sleep on the couch tonight."
You glare at him sleepily; he knows how much you love this movie. That jerk. Should've tried harder to wake you up.
He raises an eyebrow in response and so you stick out your tongue.
Your wordless conversations often progress this way.
There is one way, you decide, for him to make up for letting you miss your movie. You hold out your arms to him, the soft, warm blanket falling off your shoulders as you do so. "Carry me to bed," you whine childishly. If you can ever avoid walking yourself, you do.
Dave sighs, but says nothing. He pushes himself up off the couch and stretches; cracking his back and shaking out his shoulders before his attention returns to you. He shakes his head in a way that suggests he's rolling his eyes at you. You wouldn't put it past him in all honesty. Regardless, though, he bends down and gathers you up in his arms, supporting you as a knight would support his princess.
Or prince. Same difference- they're both royalty, after all.
He lets out a low grunt as he lifts you off the couch. "Damn, John," he says with mock difficulty. "You've been eating too many Gushers lately, man."
"Oh shut up," you mutter. You wrap your arms around his neck and nestle your head against his collar bone, closing your eyes as you do so. He's not as warm when the two of you aren't wrapped up in a bunch of blankets, but what heat he is giving off will do, you suppose.
"Don't tell me what to do," he retorts playfully.
You whine in response, pulling yourself closer to him. Sleep is dangerously close again; Dave's steps are rhythmic, slow, sturdy. The two of you are silent as he moves to the bedroom, your breathing in sync with his.
You're half asleep and all but limp in his arms by the time he goes to lay you down on the bed. It takes more effort than you'd prefer to wriggle your way under the covers, but eventually you manage, pulling the blanket up to your chin. A long breath escapes your nose and you flip onto your side, pulling your knees up comfortably to your chest.
"Here you doofus," Dave says quietly. The mattress dips slightly to your left and you open your eyes to peek up at Dave's half naked figure leaning over you.
He always did hate sleeping in actual pajamas.
One knee on the bed, and one hand pressed into the sheets for support, he gingerly removes your glasses. You hadn't even realized you had forgotten to take them off. You watch as he folds them up and sets them on the nightstand, doing the same with his own shades.
He crawls into bed next to you, throwing the blankets over him hastily. His eyes close and an arm slides under his head, sighing sleepily.
You scooch closer to him and he puts an arm around your shoulders. You return the favor and wrap your own limb around his waist, pulling him closer to you. He grunts unhappily at you and opens an eye to peek at you, clearly irritated.
"I thought you were ready for bed," he says.
You tilt your head up and press your lips to his. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but it's enough. His lips are unusually soft and it's a nice change of pace from how chapped they so often are. He's too proud to wear chapstick like a normal person so your kisses aren't as enjoyable as you would like them to be. So you treasure the feeling of this one.
"I am," you answer, lips hovering over his. You give him one more quick kiss before settling back down against the pillow. "What? Is there something wrong with getting a kiss goodnight?"
"Mh. I don't see anything wrong with it."
You exhale deeply, snuggling up against his bare chest. You're happy. You're tired and half-asleep, but you're content.
"Hey," he says suddenly. "Flip over, will ya?"
Your eyes blink in confusion. "Why would I... Wait. Oh no. No no no," you argue. "Dave, fuck you- I wanna be the big spoon."
"You were big spoon last time now flip over."
"John just turn the fuck over."
You huff, but comply. He's right after all- you were big spoon last night. You have no points to argue. It's not like you have a problem with being the little spoon, but there's something about being able to hold Dave in your arms and not the other way around. It seems like he does an awful lot of holding you. He'll never admit it, but he likes doing that.
Especially at night. When he buries his face in your hair and pulls you close to him, he's especially happy. You know he is. One of his arms worms its way under you to come up around your waist. His other arm drapes over you, his hand finding yours. He loosely laces your fingers together and exhales happily against your head.
You're falling asleep again.
"Night Dave," you mutter after a few moments.
There's no response from Dave, but you didn't expect one; you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back. He's already dead to the world. You give his hand a squeeze and his body curls around you, legs tangling in yours.
Again you're warm and comfortable and happy.
You're asleep within minutes.