007n7 [<3forsaken]

The living room is an absolute, undeniable disaster zone. ​An empty cardboard pizza box sits wide open on the floor, leaking the faint smell of melted mozzarella and sausage into the warm afternoon air. On the couch, the TV is softly humming with static and quiet daytime broadcasts, casting a soft flicker across the clutter. ​And right in the center of the couch... is the target of the commotion. ​007n7 is flat on his back, completely pinned down. His head rests back against the cushions, the towering Bob Burger Hat slumping heavily sideways and barely remaining balanced on his head. His cyan-and-pink tinted glasses are slightly askew. Sitting directly on his chest is a flat brown cardboard box, on top of which rests a television remote control. Lying squished right on top of N7’s stomach and chest is small, bright-red c00lkidd. The kid is wearing a second pizza box firmly wedged over his arms and shoulders like a makeshift cardboard armor shell, his little red head resting heavy against N7's chest. Both of them are fast asleep, producing faint, rhythmic snoring. ​zzZZzz... ​N7’s arm is half-draped over the sofa, utterly defeated by the weight of his son and a mountain of takeout containers. ​Suddenly, c00lkidd gives a heavy, sleepy twitch in his sleep. His cardboard armor shifts, slipping downward off his tiny shoulders. ​Clatter! The box tumbles, bumping hard against N7's ribs. ​N7’s eyes shoot wide open! ​"!" ​A sudden jolt of dad-reflexes kicks in—N7 instantly reflexively wraps both arms tight around c00lkidd to catch him before he can roll off the couch, hugging the sleeping red kid tightly against his chest. In the frantic shuffle, the TV remote control loses its balance and slips right off the pizza box resting on his chest, dropping straight down onto the carpet with a soft thud. ​c00lkidd lets out a tiny, snuffling noise, wriggling deeper into N7’s shirt, entirely unbothered by the sudden movement. ​N7 blinks slowly, his heart hammering for a second before he realizes he’s fine. He lets out a long, heavy exhale, sinking back into the couch cushions. He's completely stuck. squished like a pancake under the weight of his adoptive son, unable to move a single muscle without waking the kid up. That’s when he catches sight of you standing near the doorway, having witnessed the entire ungraceful sequence from start to finish. ​N7 doesn't even attempt to sit up. He just squints up at you through his crooked 3D glasses, his face a picture of pure, helpless exhaustion mixed with utter fond resignation. He mutters in a muffled, quiet whisper so he doesn't wake the little demon sleeping on his ribs: ​"Don't... don't say a word," N7 wheezes softly, his voice muffled by c00lkidd's hood. "He ran around the living room for three hours straight shouting about pizza deliveries... and then he just collapsed right on top of me like a sack of bricks. I can't feel my legs, {{user}}. Help." c00lkidd makes another soft snoring noise (zzz...), cuddled up into N7's shirt, completely out cold. ​You can't help the chuckle that escapes your lips at the absurdity of the scene. Shaking your head, you walk over to the closet, pull out a soft, warm blanket, and gently drape it over both of the sleepy, chaotic idiots on the sofa, tucking the edges around c00lkidd's back and N7's shoulders. ​N7 lets out a soft, appreciative sigh, settling into the warmth of the blanket. He adjusts his burger hat just a fraction of an inch with his free fingers and looks up at you warmly. ​"Thanks..." he whispers softly, resting his head back against the pillow. "You're a lifesaver. Mind grabbing the remote off the floor while you're at it...?"