There are Sounds from the kitchen. Occasionally, this is fine. Occasionally, this is ominous.
...right now it's kind of neither because a spiky monster with qwertyface and a wrinkled shirt is microwaving water. Well, by 'spiky'... really just his hair. And it's less spiky than desk-hair, which is only slightly different from bedhead. His expression is fierce. It probably has to do with having had to delete pages and pages and pages of the letter 'd'.
He does not acknowledge any voices or presences or things. There are no people. There is merely staring uncomprehendingly at the microwave with an open packet of hot cocoa mix in one hand.
Zoisite is first down the stairs, but that's not a surprise considering the involvement of 'stomach needs food'. He pauses at the sight of Mamoru in the kitchen, raising his eyebrows, and then puts on a pot of coffee solemnly. "...Mamoru," he says in a firm voice.
"You look like /hell/." Turnabout fussing is fair play, and Zoisite is going to make coffee and fuss over his prince, dangit.
Certain stomachs need food, certain people need significant others, these things happen. Kunzite dropped back down to Kazuo during the brief entanglement of semi-departures (in the conjoined apartments, going to the other side of the place might as well be a departure), and took a few moments to hang up his coat now that they're inside. He can't quite hear what Zoisite's saying, but the tone of voice that carries is enough to give him a good idea of the content and to whom, so the detour is extended a few moments. Mostly to check on the state of Mamoru's actual desk and make sure that nothing is liable to deteriorate in his absence. Then he'll come back in.
Since there are no actual cats in the apartment -- which Mamoru is constantly sad about but neither of the moon cats is his partner and the caracal can't leave Kunzite's palace and that's a good thing and visiting moon cats would probably drive actual cat up the wall -- the situation with Mamoru's desk is not in any way deteriorating. He deleted the pages of d. Only essay is left. His room is, granted, a mess (for him), but it's still clean by anyone else's standards and honestly pretty much sterile and spotless by, say, Nephrite's or Usagi's standards. His spotify playlist's on pause, and it's all highly technical high-speed solo piano, from the look of it.
From the look of Mamoru, he may actually be a pod person, because he's turned to stare at Zoisite in blank incomprehension. "Ehh..? That's not a nice thing to say. I just woke up," he finally decides, mildly, then rubs at the side of his face where his glasses had been digging in when he faceplanted on his keyboard.
The microwave beeps and he methodically takes out his nuked water and dumps the packet of powdered chocolate mix in it, and then watches it slowly dissolve and sink like chocolate snowfall.
Zoisite shrugs expansively, his transformation vanishing. "Mamoru, when have I ever been nice?" he asks archly. He says as he fusses to brew good coffee for Mamoru in a French Press. Right. He's not nice at all.
"You could always make a mocha, you know. If you're having issues staying awake. I'm making coffee."
Zoisite rummages around in the fridge, digging out supplies to make a decent dinner, even if it is very protein-heavy.
They're sandwiches, heavily laden with meat, or at least the makings of. Zoisite busies himself with making them into two actual sandwiches, heavily loaded on one account and less heavily loaded on the other. He pulls out two plates, offering the more loaded sandwich to Mamoru. "Dinner," he says briefly. "If you're going to pass out studying, at least make sure you have something solid in your stomach first." Why yes, he is nagging his Prince. He will continue nagging his prince until he eats, and possibly gets caffeine in him so he doesn't pass out while studying again, even if that involves sitting on his prince and making him eat.
Kunzite smiling. Mamoru falling asleep over an essay. Zoisite in the kitchen. It may be Official Pod Person Day. In any case, Pod Kazuo makes certain that the essay in progress is saved and backed up, without overwriting any extant versions of the essay just in case, before returning to the kitchen. He says nothing. He only investigates to see whether any of the marshmallows survived the visits of various young girls, because if there's a moment in which Mamoru needs Even More Sugar, the lack of focus in his eyes says this one is it. Lest he keel over from the effort involved in consuming that sandwich.
Mamoru goes from watching chocolate fall in hot water to watching Zoisite flutter around the kitchen, then considers getting a spoon to stir the cocoa, then gradually becomes aware of sandwich-making and further fussing and coffee and fussing, and his brow furrows and he yawns, and tries to talk through it. There's enough collective experience between Zoisite and Kunzite to be able to figure out what he's saying. "No caffeine I'm going to bed. To hell with school."
He remembers a spoon and pushes himself off the counter to get one, but goes to the drawer where they live in the mirror image kitchen on the other side of the apartments. While looking confusedly into a drawer full of random junk, he slowly realizes Zoisite is holding a sandwich out to him.
He's not hungry, but Zoisite is so cute. :< So he takes the plate and brings it over to his hot cocoa, along with a Sharpie from the drawer of junk, and he stirs the cocoa with the Sharpie while eating pieces of the sandwich out of the sandwich to make it skinnier before eating it properly.
There's a frown as Zoisite fishes out a spoon for Mamoru to stir his hot chocolate with. "Sheesh. Of all the things to stir with," he grumbles. Even if Mamoru is going to just pass out and sleep for a small eternity, it's far better that he does it with something slow-digesting and protein-y in his stomach, so he doesn't wake up hungry. And even if Mamoru doesn't drink the coffee, Zoisite is effectively immune to caffeine before bed, and is enough of a snob that he can safely say he drinks the stuff for the taste as much as caffeine.
"Good. If you overwork yourself I will make you into a burrito of blankets and sit on it. You're--" Zoisite's voice catches in his throat for a moment at the idea of offering such a bald admission, but nobody's here but people he would admit this in front of. "--You're too important to have gibbering stupidly or something because you worked yourself stupid on papers," he says firmly.
As long as the Sharpie still has its cap on, Kazuo isn't going to say anything. None of which prevents Zoisite from doing so. Etiquette concerns, definitely more important to one of these two than the other. He waits in silence for his opportunity, then adds the last of the marshmallows to the drink. Fussing, yes. He steals the Sharpie once it's been replaced with a spoon, and goes to discard the empty bag and rinse the not-actually-chocolate off the marker.
"Good," is all Kazuo says aloud. "He might actually listen to you."
... mostly because Zoisite would literally sit on him if necessary. Threats work best when they're not empty.
There's a funny, quiet little laugh from Mamoru, who doesn't actually fight the marker being taken out of his hand and replaced with a spoon -- on the contrary, he starts to stir with the spoon. It's handy for it. And he watches Kunzite take the marker from Zoisite and wash it off, and only then notices that marshmallows have made it difficult to stir the cocoa. So he lets go the spoon, and stuffs the sandwich-insides-piece in his mouth and watches Zoisite lecture him while getting choked up, and he doesn't say anything.
Then Kunzite agrees with Zoisite in his particularly Kunziteish way, and Mamoru licks his fingers off and stands a little detachedly, bracing against the table, and leans to kiss the top of Zoisite's head and flash Kunzite an obscene gesture at the same time. Then he sits down just as carefully, picks up the cocoa, and says into it, "Thank you for the marshmallows."
Zoisite nods firmly, smiling at the kiss to the top of his head. Threats work best when they're not empty, and trying to guess if Zoisite's threats are ever empty is a bad bet. (Especially when it comes to Mamoru's health and safety. Zoisite never writes checks his mouth cannot cash when it comes to that, or at least, not ones where he doesn't make a fine show of protecting his prince's safety.)
There's a flash of crooked smile at the obscene gesture. "Shouldn't I be the one you're making gestures at? I am the one who actually made the threat."
"Drink," Kazuo says a little more firmly and more obviously toward Mamoru. The slight turn, in the confines of the kitchen, brings his left arm around Zoisite fairly naturally; conveniently, that's the dry and Sharpie-less hand. "Eat. We'll put you back to bed if you fall asleep with your nose in the sandwich. Zoisite, would you bring his and Jadeite's assignments to school Monday?"
"Direct address," supplies the prince after a long moment's considered deliberation, pretty much at the same time as he's being ordered to drink. And that, and its follow-up, earn an approving nod from Mamoru. "Like that. Good Kunzite, very good," he croons into the cocoa, then does as he's told. Cocoa and marshmallows, and after a little bit, some more sandwich innards. He might accidentally end up eating the bread last.
"Now that I can talk, of course I will," Zoisite says, tone full of wry humor. He leans into Kunzite's one-armed embrace with a smile, watching his Prince eat.
Hey, if Mamoru eats the sandwich innards and not the bread, it's not a big loss. He'll still have protein in his stomach, after all. That in mind, Zoisite takes a bite out of his own sandwich.
"Ah, that explains it. It wasn't the threat that upset him, it was referring to His Highness in the third person." The urge to fuss with Zoisite's hair, just a little, is resisted, because Kazuo wants that hand free to make sure any reaction from Mamoru does not interfere with the sandwich-eating. "Thank you, Zoisite." Why exactly he's that sure that Jadeite won't be there either, he doesn't say, but given Mamoru's condition, maybe it's a reasonable extrapolation.
Just as deliberately as everything else he's been doing -- when you're that tired it's like being drunk -- Mamoru picks up a rabbit-shaped eraser from somewhere in the table detritus and flicks it at Kunzite's face. He can throw roses drunk, it should be noted.
And then he very methodically stuffs the entire sandwich in his mouth, somewhat bloodshot blue gaze holding eye contact with Kunzite steadily as he does so.
Once it's all crammed in there, he winks at Zoisite and then gathers his cocoa and gets up extremely carefully, starting to head for the door with the mug in both his hands.
Zoisite is torn between laughing brokenly at Mamoru's display and staring dumbfounded. He huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. "Kunzite, our prince is ridiculous," he says instead, smothering the snicker.
Honestly, Zoisite is only going to school because he missed so much while his voice was gone.
Kazuo reflexively moves to shield his eyes, which is of course not where the rabbit-shaped eraser in question is aimed -- it thumps into the middle of his forehead, bounces lightly off of his knuckles once or twice, and drops neatly to nestle on the top of Zoisite's head. Perfectly aimed.
The fight to keep from smiling is a desperate one, and he wins maybe sixty percent of it. Then, carefully, picks the bunny eraser out of Zoi's hair before it can fall into the food. "He is," he agrees. "Why else would he put up with us?"
A pause, then, before he leans his own head down, cheek against the top of Zoisite's just for a moment and then straightening up again. "Someone should make sure he's not so tired he forgets his friend taught him to dream lucidly. Would you like to? It's Sunday, the both of you can sleep in."
Zoisite suffers the indignity of the eraser in his hair with carefully-practiced grace. He snorts softly and leans most of his weight against Kunzite for a brief moment before ducking out of the embrace, following after Mamoru as he finishes the last of his sandwich."'s a good idea," he says with a crooked smile.
"Zoisite --" It's not quite a tone that would stop him, or call him back. Not quite. "If he's already dreaming, or if it's bad -- come get me if you can. Call for me if you can't. I'll be close enough to hear."
Then -- well. It's someone's job to handle the little bit of cleanup from the sandwich-making, and Kazuo takes that in hand. Right down to putting the Sharpie back in place. (But not the bunny eraser. That's tucked into a pocket.) Nothing to slow Zoisite down; if he's fast enough, Zoisite's presence should be enough to shunt Mamoru's dreams somewhere brighter, somewhere a little more reassuring. Somewhere where 'like to' and 'sleep in' are the appropriate phrases. If they weren't fast enough ... well. A little bit of routine might get him braced enough to deal with it, again.