A/N: Hi y'all! Been a little while, hasn't it? This new ficlet is something I began last year (as it is with pretty much everything MitM related that I have on my computer), which I finished and polished up tonight. Felt like accomplishing something. And I do so love this little thing. Originally it was an excuse to write fluff, but turned into Reese just being Reese. Also, awesome title is awesome. x3

Usual Disclaimer: I do not own MitM or any of the characters therein. This should be obvious, as Malcolm and Reese do not make-out like crazy even once at any point during the show. ...unfortunately.

Enjoy!

STFU ALREADY

Reese snoozed somewhere between sleep and a pleasant fantasy as the face of the digital clock on the shelves behind him rearranged itself to say 1:23 AM. The only light in the room came from that clock, and somewhere in the back of his mind Reese could hear Dewey breathing softly in his sleep. It was dark, the double bed was warm and comfortable, and as his fantasizing began to form into some sort of strange, controllable dream, Reese began to slip further and further into sleep. It was almost perfect; there was only one thing missing.

Almost subconsciously, Reese reached up with one arm and began to turn over onto his stomach. Being used to there always being a warm body next to him but not finding one, he rolled too far, over the edge of the bed, and onto the floor.

He hit the ground with enough force to knock him out of his half-sleep, and with a grunt he looked up with blurry eyes at his surroundings. Wooden floor, bed legs, dust bunny; hello random unlit firecracker... The floor wasn't particularly comfortable, and it was kind of cold, so, slowly, he started to haul himself up.

He stood on his knees and stared at the spot on the bed where he'd been a moment before, trying to sort out what had just happened. But his brain felt so sluggish that he gave that up and instead focused on why the bed was empty. Because that would not do.

There was a human-sized space on the bed that should have been filled, but was instead empty. Normally at this time of night it would have been occupied, and had it been occupied Reese would have found his intended target and not fallen face-first onto the wooden paneling of the floor. Which made his sleep-ridden brain wonder where said occupant was—although it was really more along the lines of 'Where the hell...?'

Slowly, groggily, and only slightly off balance, Reese got to his feet. A wave of dizziness hit him as his blood pressure suddenly dropped, and he had to hold onto the headboard to steady himself while it balanced out. As it was passing he noticed light creeping underneath the door that led to the hallway, and when his head cleared he walked over and opened it.

From somewhere around the corner that led into the kitchen, an indistinct mumbling reached his ears—someone was talking to themself. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he definitely recognized the voice. It was the only person insane enough to still be up at this hour.

Shielding his eyes from the harsh lights, Reese shuffled down the hallway and peered around the corner. Sure enough, Malcolm sat at the kitchen table. His back was to him, but from what Reese could see he had open books strewn across the table's surface. Every once in a while he would reach out and grab a random book from the edge of the pile, flip furiously through it, and then toss it aside, all the while mumbling to himself.

"Square the hypotenuse of..." he would say, and then go on to, "A squared plus B squared equals... Cumulonimbus clouds... Stratosphere... If train A leaves the station at... but train B leaves the station at... Einstein... relativity... The square root of a watermelon..."

Even Reese's grog-laden mind knew there was something off about that last one—and it wasn't just because he thought the roots of a watermelon were rectangular, either—so he shuffled into the kitchen and sat at a chair across from Malcolm. Malcolm, though, didn't even seem to notice him. He simply babbled on to himself, flipping through book after book, and then tossing them aside.

Reese sat and watched him for a moment, half his mind wondering what the hell Malcolm was doing while the other half slept; although the speed at which the books were being shuffled across the table was beginning to make him dizzy. He was on the verge of waking the more rested half of his mind up when his hand acted of its own volition and grabbed a book from Malcolm's grasp right as he was about to open it. He held it for only a split second before swiftly bringing his arm backwards and tossing the book into the living room, where it landed—safely—on the couch.

For a few seconds Malcolm continued to act as if the book was still in his possession, his hands moving as if to open it. Then it seemed to register in his mind that it was missing, and he looked up—right at Reese. For only a moment he seemed to acknowledge Reese's presence—frowning and and narrowing his eyes—before continuing to babble to himself and reach for another book.

The part of Reese that was still awake let out an audible groan, one that said he was definitely not happy, and perhaps thought this was more trouble than it was worth. Then he stood up, grabbed the end of the table, lifted, and dumped every single book onto the floor. (Had he been better rested he might have actually flipped the entire table over.)

As the books fell and made loud THUMP THUMP THUMP noises, Malcolm stayed in his seat, quiet now, and stared forward. As Reese sat the table back on its legs he slowly looked in his direction. Reese stared back, intent on getting his point across.

Then Malcolm seemed to come out of his daze, if not his craze.

"Reese!" he hissed suddenly. He stood up just as suddenly, and then bent over to retrieve the books from the floor. "I have to study! The SAT's are in a week!"

Reese continued to stare at him, either not comprehending, or not caring. He shifted his weight to one leg and crossed his arms over his chest.

Malcolm shook his head.

"Don't look at me like that! This is important!"

Reese rolled his eyes, and Malcolm's eyes narrowed again.

"It is, too, important!"

Reese's eyebrows rose, if only a fraction of an inch.

"It could determine what college I get into!"

Reese shifted his weight to his other leg.

"I don't care what time it is! This is more important than sleep!"

Reese uncrossed his arms, leaned down low on the table, and glowered in Malcom's direction. Malcolm glared back for barely a second before he dropped his books, stood up, and walked to Reese's side.

"Okay, maybe you're right," he said. "I'll probably be able to study better after I sleep anyway."

Reese just smiled and nodded, as if he actually cared about Malcolm's studying. Then he took firm hold of both of Malcolm's shoulders and steered him in the direction of their bedroom, flipping off the kitchen lights as they passed the switch. The books were left in a heap on the floor.

In the bedroom Malcolm stared down at his side of the bed. Perhaps he was still unwilling to lie down, or maybe he was just going out of his mind, but no matter how much Reese pushed him, Malcolm would not get in. It took Reese all of thirty seconds to give that up before he physically picked Malcolm up and dropped him onto the bed. He landed with an audible 'OOF!' and looked around himself as if he had no idea what had just happened.

His mission complete, Reese crawled over Malcolm's sprawled form to his own side of the bed. There he yawned, stretched a bit, and turned to curl himself around his brother—one arm snaking its way across Malcolm's chest and one leg completely latching itself around Malcolm's lower half. Then he pulled his pillow across the sheets with his other hand, fluffed it a bit, and laid his head down to get comfortable resting half-way on Malcolm's shoulder, content.

The second half of his brain was just about ready to doze off when the sound of the "genius'" incessant mumblings once again reached his ear.

"Y equals MX plus B... Characteristics of the Class Polychaeta include... Insects have six legs, two to four wings, two antennae... are further divided into three sections... —oles are formed when massive... reach the end of their... explode... E equals MC—OOF!"

Without any hesitation, Reese brought up the arm draped across Malcolm's chest and brought it back down into Malcolm's gut. If not for the lock in which Reese held him, Malcolm would have immediately sat up and clutched at his stomach—and he tried, too—but instead coughed, grimaced, and nodded his compliance.

"Alright," he croaked. "I can take a hint..."

Reese grinned into Malcolm's shoulder and snuggled closer. Malcolm groaned and closed his eyes, useless information continuing to run past them across the backside of his eyelids.

The clock read 1:36 AM, and everything was as it should be.

A/N: Something I've noticed about my writing is that a lot of my settings take place at night, and either involve sleep-deprivation or cuddling in bed. I get the feeling this stems from my having trouble sleeping... and an affinity for cuddling. XD But Malcolm and Reese do it SO WELL, don't they?

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of my reviewers. You all know that you have no obligation to review, but quite a few of you do it anyway. You are all awesome, seriously. I would hug you all if I could. And to those of you that don't review-you're awesome as well. I'm happy just knowing that y'all like this silly collection. Thank you all! :D

As stated previously, reviewing is not necessary. All I ask is that you read and enjoy. Also, kudos to anyone that knows where Malcolm got his 'craze' from. x3