#but that involves drawing pat and kernel

[luanseatlan]

nurse doodle bc she doesn’t get enough credit for the shenanigans everyone puts her through

[gofordrakgo]

Dwelling Chapter Eight

“Laughing, Shea made to stand up. ‘Anyway, I’m going to bed before you decide to fall asleep out here again.’ Before she had the chance to move, Drew’s eyes had gone wide and he’d latched both hands to her wrist. She blinked at him, a little shocked by the fact that she hadn’t been startled enough to punch him. ‘What?’ ‘Please, don’t leave,’ he squeaked.”

Dwelling Summary

Dwelling Chapter One

Dwelling Chapter Seven

Dwelling Chapter Nine

Even the popcorn that Drew made came from some strange off-brand company displaying only “POPCORN” in big red letters on an otherwise white box. When he walked the oversized bowl to the coffee table, his hands shook so much that she was relatively shocked he didn’t drop the whole thing. She elected not to comment on the few pieces that did tumble to the ground, figuring she’d have much better material to mock him with, soon enough.

“Ready to lose?”

“I’m not scared,” he lied for the umpteenth time, his voice quivering. “Besides, I am far too curious to see what happens when you try to be nice to lose.” 

Shea scoffed and grabbed a handful of popcorn, warily popping a few kernels into her mouth before deciding it tasted fine enough and devouring the rest. The excessive amounts of butter distracted from the almost cardboard-like texture. She moved to the window, drawing the zig-zag striped curtains shut, blocking out the city lights and starless night sky.

“Turn off the lights,” she instructed, half-expecting Drew to have run off as she turned around. He still stood between the chair and the light switch, nervously lacing and unlacing his fingers. The look he shot between her and the overhead light was as terrified and pleading- maybe even more so- than the look he’d shot her when the girl at the library began to flirt with him. “Well?”

He scowled at her, then flicked the light off and ran to the couch. Shea sat down next to him, ready to make him regret ever agreeing to watch this with her, by whatever means she had to. She didn’t want to feel so… hero-ish again by being forced to act nice. What had been so great about being around him so far was that she didn’t feel like she had to be, well, fake. Not that she couldn’t be nice, of course. 

As she sat, something about his pajamas, mostly covered by a soft blue blanket that he’d dragged out of his room and wrapped around himself, caught her eye. She yanked the blanket back a bit to see them better, ignoring his startled yelp and the way he tried to swat her hands away.

“Of course,” she laughed. “Of course you own Elements of Robotics pajamas.”

“It was a good show!”

“Are you so sure? It only got… what? Eight episodes?”

Immediately Drew turned, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why do you know that?”

Overly—well, protective wasn’t the right word—overly involved parents meant she’d learned to lie on the spot, and she quickly spat out, “Um… four brothers. Remember?”

He shook his head. “No way. I don’t believe you. You watched it! Didn’t you?”

Shea snapped her head around, stubbornly staring straight ahead. “No.”

She felt him nudge her arm just a moment before asking, “What did you think about the episode on artificial intelligence?”

“Shut up.”

“It was my favorite.”

She barely resisted the childish urge to cover her ears and drown him out by sheer stubborn will power. “Just turn on the movie,” she demanded, hoping he couldn’t hear the pleading note in her voice the way she could.

He continued as if she’d never spoken. “What did you think about-”

“I just watched it for the explosions, okay?” She snapped, her voice rising to just quieter than a shout. She nearly slapped a hand over her mouth, before realizing he didn’t need any more proof that he’d managed to get an embarrassing confession out of her. Damn him and that damn nerd show. Of course, it had to always be on right after late-night missions. And of course it had to have actual real explosions- the ones in movies just seemed absurd to her. It had been kinda cool to see her experiences with things blowing up in her face recreated. While she did initially watch it just to see things blow up, her favorite episode, not that she’d admit it to him even if her life depended on it, had also been the episode on artificial intelligence. Naturally, the only episode without even one explosion. 

He had a death wish, she decided, as he leaned so close to her that she could practically feel his breath on the side of her face. “Dork,” he whispered. 

A short scream burst out of her and she pushed him away. “Shut up!” 

He tumbled off the couch with a startled cry. She hadn’t meant to push him that hard but the sight of the stupid grin still plastered to his face when he looked up almost made her wish she’d pushed him harder. “You know, I have the series taped. We could watch that.”

She snapped her gaze to his. “Trying to get out of something?”

He sobered up, the smile dropping from his face in an instant. “No. No, I just meant-”

Shea snorted, glad the focus was no longer on trying to embarrass her. “Turn on the movie, Drew.” Grumbling incoherently, he stood and did as she told him to, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. In the dim lighting, she could just barely see the tips of his ears turning pink. 

Twenty minutes into the movie she glanced over at him a bit surprised that he hadn’t already started freaking out, though nothing had actually happened. He had, however, pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms protectively around himself. He looked about ready to start sucking his thumb. 

She nudged him and asked, “how’re you holding up?” He only grunted in response and she let loose the laugh she’d tried holding back. “It’s not horrible.”

Drew turned to face her, glaring at her like he wished he could kill her with his mind. “Not yet,” he spat bitterly. 

She patted his head, then quickly withdrew her hand as she remembered how soft his hair had felt between her fingers that morning. “You’ll live.”

“Says you,” he grunted, shifting away from her touch. 

She jabbed a finger into his ribs. “Baby.”

“Ow! Stop that!” Shea tried and failed miserably not to giggle.

“You could always just give in now, and get out of the really scary parts.” Not that she actually wanted him to. She knew that what she really wanted was his company, but she tried to convince herself that she just wanted to watch him panic.

“Nygh- no.” He turned and pointed a finger at her accusingly. “I’m not letting you win just like that. I’m not letting you out of this.”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t give you the chance.” She leaned over to poke him again.

He slapped her hand away before she could reach him. “Stop poking at me, would you?”

“Probably not gonna happen, chief. It’s fun.”

“At least you being a pest keeps me distracted,” he muttered under his breath, and without another word, Shea decided to stop talking to him. She did poke him again though, which earned her another sharp, “ow!” before he scooched as far towards the opposite end of the couch as he could. “Quit it!”

Nearing the end of the movie Shea began to worry that maybe the bet wasn’t such a good idea after all. Aside from a few decidedly unmanly squeaks, Drew still hadn’t really freaked out. Shea had expected something more from him and it took her a moment of watching him to realize that he was clearly trying very hard to hold back his reactions. Even in the dark, she could see how much he was shaking.

Debating whether or not saying something to freak him out would be cheating, she turned away before he could notice her watching him. She needn’t have worried, she realized no more than ten seconds later. She’d seen the jump scare coming since before they even turned the movie on but, apparently, Drew hadn’t. His barely calm facade shattered to pieces as he screeched and jumped so high in the air that he toppled over the side of the couch and collapsed to the floor in a trembling mess of limbs and blanket. Not at all bothering to stifle her laughter she shifted over to his abandoned spot to peer down at him.

“Not afraid, huh?”

She expected him to glare at her, but he didn’t so much as look in her direction. Instead, he wrapped the blanket around his head and whimpered, “Can we turn it off now? Please?” 

“If only I’d wagered something better than just not having to be nice to you,” she mused. He tightened the blanket around his head and whimpered again, as the characters in the movie shrieked. “Come on, Drew, it’s not that scary.” She reached down, intent on grabbing his arm and dragging him back up onto the couch. The moment her fingertips touched the blanket he yelped and scrambled away from her, ducking behind the back of the couch. She turned again and watched him, the blaring movie and his heavy breathing the only sounds in the room. His chest moved under the blanket with each heaving breath and, somewhere between unable and unwilling to stop herself, she burst into a fit of giggles. When she finally regained control of herself, she pulled the blanket away from his face then held her hand out to him.

“Come on,” she said, “it’s almost over. You did better than I expected you to, at least.”

He didn’t take her outstretched hand. “Oh, yes. That’s ever so comforting.”

“Come on,” she insisted, grabbing at his blanket. 

He made a strange sound in the back of his throat, brushed her hand away and finally clambered back onto the couch, his blanket wrapped so thoroughly around him once again, that she could only just see his glasses peeking out. She absentmindedly wondered if he could actually breathe.

“I hate this,” he grumbled, his voice muffled.

“Cause you’re scared?” He shifted slightly but his attempts to glare at her only served to make her snicker. “You look ridiculous.” 

“I hate this,” he repeated.

“It’s almost over, you dork. Be quiet.”

She could tell he was trying to cross his arms under the blanket but he’d wrapped it too tightly to move. “I hate you,” he grumbled. 

A painful knot formed in her chest, which she stubbornly tried to ignore. “No, you don’t.” She hated that she could hear herself working, not to convince him, but herself. 

He sighed, and let the blanket slide down enough to cross his arms. “No. But I do hate this.”

“It’s almost over,” she said again, the teasing tone in her voice replaced by the same comforting sort of tone she’d frequently used on Wendell and Westley, and sometimes even Merrick, on shots days, during their stint as lab rats. Only when she glanced over at Drew again did she notice that she’d reached over and rested a hand on his arm. She quickly pulled away. Someone in the movie screamed out and Drew squeaked and practically leaped over to her side of the couch to bury his face against her shoulder. 

Berating herself all the while, she allowed him to lean into her, wrapping her arm awkwardly around his shoulder. Evidently, he didn’t care at all about the stiff-set of her back or that she’d been moving away from him just a moment before, because he stayed there, grabbing tightly to her free arm every time a loud noise came from the tv set, for the entirety of the last twenty minutes of the movie. 

She could hardly focus past the weight of his head on her shoulder and how warm he felt against her side. She wanted to squirm away from him, not used to being touched by anyone, let alone some vaguely cute college guy, in a way that wasn’t intended to hurt or, as was the case much more often lately, kill her. And truth be told, she wasn’t used to touching anyone in a way that could possibly be taken as comforting. At the same time, she couldn’t help but remind herself that she’d wanted this the night before. Well, not this, exactly, she thought as he grabbed at her arm again, his hands shaking, but she had wanted him to move closer. Hell, all truth be told, she knew part of the reason she’d been so insistent on him watching this movie with her had been the knowledge that something like this might happen. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind she vaguely wished that she was the one who was scared of the movie, enough for him to have to comfort her instead. That thought went deliberately unacknowledged. 

When the movie finally ended, Shea peeled the blanket back away from Drew’s head. “Turns out you’re just as much of a baby as I thought,” she teased.

He didn’t move or respond in any way outside of a grunted, “mmph.”

“And,” she let her voice turn sing-songy, “it turns out I have absolutely no obligation to be nice to you whatsoever.” 

He pulled far enough away to look up at her. “You wouldn’t have known how to be nice.”

“Well, you go ahead and believe that,” she scoffed. “I’ve got nothing to prove to you.”

He sat back, regarding her carefully as if he wasn’t still trembling. “Not that you’d be able to.” 

“Course I could.”

“Well, do it then,” he challenged. 

“What? Prove that I can be nice to you?”

“Yeah.” He leaned in close enough that she could smell the buttery, salty, smell of popcorn on his breath. His tone was mocking despite the slight quivering threat of tears still evident in his voice. “Prove it.”

She tried not to blush as she issued a challenge of her own. “You’re gonna have to make me.”

“Why? Can’t prove it on your own?”

“Win a bet and make me prove I can be nice, you dork.”

“You are such-”

She cut him off, delighting in the glare he shot her way. “A pest?”

“Nngh- zip it!” 

Laughing, Shea made to stand up. “Anyway, I’m going to bed before you decide to fall asleep out here again.” Before she had the chance to move, Drew’s eyes had gone wide and he’d latched both hands to her wrist. She blinked at him, a little shocked by the fact that she hadn’t been startled enough to punch him. “What?”

“Please, don’t leave,” he squeaked.

It took her a few seconds to realize what he’d asked her, and a few seconds more for the surprise to wear off. “What, are you scared of being alone?”

“Nygh- yes,” he confessed, glancing away from her, though he didn’t let go of her wrist.

“Didn’t you say you hate me like… twenty minutes ago?” He started sputtering trying to deny that he’d said it, or at least denying that he’d meant it, which she’d known already. Still, it was kind of fun making him squirm.  “Okay, okay. Don’t hurt yourself.” She sat down again, and he finally relinquished his grasp. “I’m only staying for five more minutes though.” 

After a minute passed in complete silence, he asked, “Do you… do you think demons could really possess people?”

Holding up a burning hand she shrugged and said, “Sure. It happened to me.”

“Not funny!”

“What?” She moved closer, bringing her burning hand as close to him as she was willing to without fear of accidentally hurting him. “You don’t think it’s cool anymore?”

He slapped her arm away, for the second time that night. “Stop that.”

She smirked, but let her hand fall to her side, leaning back against the armrest of the couch. “Yeah, alright. And, no, Drew, I don’t think demons can possess people. Mostly because they’re not real.”

“But what if they were?” She could picture him as a toddler suddenly, with glasses too big for his tiny face and ears that he’d never actually grow into, following her around asking ‘why?’ about everything, doing nothing more than repeating the word when given an answer.

She shrugged off the thought that he’d probably been an adorable little kid. “Who cares? They’re not.” She interrupted herself with a yawn, evidently more tired than she thought she was. “Problem solved. You’re never going to get possessed.” Rather than seeming at all relieved by her attempts at reassurance, he just groaned and hid his face against her shoulder again. “What do you want me to say?” She demanded, growing increasingly flustered by how close he was, and increasingly annoyed at herself for being flustered. Weren’t teenage girls supposed to like cuddling up with college guys? Gah! Even that word… cuddling… sounded wrong in her mind. 

“I don’t know,” he moaned.

“We could go buy a ouija board and see what happens.”

He pulled back, wrapping the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you hate me?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not unless you plan on giving me a reason to?” She didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but it did.

“Then why are you torturing me?”

“I didn’t leave, did I? I could be doing a lot worse.” He stared at her in level silence for a brief moment, then did nothing but pull the blanket up over his head and lean towards the other side of the couch like a pouting child. “Can I go to bed now?”

He turned around fast enough she felt her own spine popping in protest. “No!” 

Sighing, she curled up against the arm of the couch. “Fine. But gimme.” She reached for his blanket which, after persistently trying to yank it off of him herself, he begrudgingly disentangled himself from, and passed a portion of it over. Content enough for the moment she decided she’d save stealing the rest of it for when he said something dumb.

“You’re not going to make me watch more horror movies, right?”

Shea yawned again. “Not right now.”

“But,” he stammered. “But does that mean you will?”

She patted his head, for the second time that evening. The only difference being she left her hand to tangle up in his hair. “You’ll get used to it.” With her free hand, she reached for the coffee table, grabbed the remote and clicked the tv off, plunging the room into darkness. 

Some small portion of her noticed him moving closer as he muttered, somewhere between sounding mocking and upset, “you must hate me.” 

“I don’t,’ she yawned, her eyes closing, despite her efforts not to let them. She’d never been quite so… cozy before. There was something discomfiting about it, at the same time that she hated the idea of it ever ending. It made her stomach queasy to think about, so she forced herself not to. If she had any talent at all, it was forcing herself not to think about things. She shifted so she was lying more comfortably, her head on the armrest. 

Drew, who she could just about make out leaning his own head against the back of the couch as he had the previous night, finally yawned too. “Then you really are just a brat.” Shea grabbed the pillow that barely functioned to separate them and swung it at his face. She was met with an immediate protest of, “ow! Hey! Glasses.”

Shea laughed out an apology, then sat up and snatched them off his face. “Here,” she said and promptly hit him again.

“That’s not better!” He fumbled at her arms, trying to grab his glasses which she tauntingly held just out of his reach. “Give me those!”

She slipped his glasses on her face, trying to peer around the apartment. The darkness didn’t hinder the fact that her vision went incredibly blurry the moment they were on. “Sheesh, you are blind.” 

“Yes,” he exclaimed, as she took them off again. With her vision back she could see him squinting at her. “Shockingly, I’m aware.” He held out his hand, trying to be demanding in a way that did nothing but make her think that he was both ridiculous and adorable. “Give.”

She passed them over, and watched as he deliberated between putting them on, or just keeping them off. He finally decided to keep them off, tucking them into his pajama shirt instead. “Should you be going to bed?” Shea asked, remembering suddenly that he’d have to go to class tomorrow and she’d be on her own for who knew how long. 

He glanced, still squinting, in her direction. “Well- I-I… Yes,” he stammered nervously.

“What time do you leave anyway?”

“Eight, if I want to catch the bus.”

“Drew! It’s-” she glanced quickly at the clock, “one in the morning! Go to bed!”

He stuck his glasses back on his face to properly glare at her. “You expect me to sleep after that?”

“Yes! Go to bed, you baby.”

“No,” he whined, throwing a glance between her and the hallway. “It’s too dark.”

“Do you need a nightlight or something? Just go!”

He latched one hand onto her arm again. “No!”

The blush she’d forced away earlier finally surfaced, which was a little closer to okay now that it was hopefully too dark for him to see. “Are you for real?”

“I-nygh- I just.” He sighed and, squeezing her arm managed, “Please, stay.”

“Oh, for- What? You want me to sleep out here?”

Her eyes had adjusted just enough for her to make out the sheepish look on his face as he nodded. “Please?”

She paused then after brief but intense consideration of what he was asking, she shrugged. “Um, okay. I guess. Just-”

His relieved sigh, and somewhat giddy “thank you!” interrupted her.

“Right. Sure. Just… move over.” Slowly he lifted his hand off her arm and shifted over to lie down on the opposite armrest. Shea curled her legs close to her chest, immediately uncomfortable with the feeling of his so close to hers. “What class do you have tomorrow?” She asked, trying to distract herself from the thought that she was about to intentionally sleep on the couch with him. 

He yawned, making her yawn in response. “I have to cover a lesson for intro to synthetic chemistry. Then I’ve got a programming course and robotic engineering.” 

She decided she’d ask him exactly what the hell synthetic chemistry was at some other point. What she asked instead was, “what time will you be back?”

“Why? You gonna miss me?” Drew teased.

She kicked her foot out towards him, though gently enough that it wouldn’t even have hurt a baby bird. “You said we’d go get clothes for me, you dork.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually back around three. Groceries first. Then we’ll get you some clothes. You won’t mind going to a thrift store, right?”

“Fine for everything but underwear,” she said with a shrug.

She could practically hear him blushing when he replied, “oh. Yes. Right.”

Some part of her mind kicked her every time she nearly managed to drift to sleep, terrified by the implications of staying with him. Before she even knew she was going to do it, she muttered, “hey. Question.” Drew hummed in response. “What should I do about lunch tomorrow?”

She scarcely made out his telling her that there were leftovers if she wanted them, his voice had turned to such a low, sleepy grumble. “Or you could make a sandwich. I’m sure you’re not so bad a cook that you can’t handle that.”

Childishly, she stuck her tongue out, unsure whether he’d see it or not. “Nyeh.”

He nudged her leg with his foot, the way she’d done to him. “And you say you’re not a kid.”

“Technically, I’m a teenager. So, not a kid. And so says the guy who needs a nightlight!” 

“Nygh. Weren’t you the one who wanted me to go to bed?”

“This isn’t a bed. It’s a couch. If you want to sleep go to bed.” He sat up slightly, her name bubbling off his lips in protest. She held back a tired laugh. “You better not wake me up because you’re having a nightmare or something. And take off your glasses before you roll over and break them!”

He lay back down, obeying her command and placing his glasses on the coffee table. “I make no promises about not waking you up. If I do, you brought it on yourself.”

“Baby.”

“Goodnight, Shea.”

Shea snuggled down against the couch, and murmured, “yeah, night,” unsure why she suddenly felt so content to allow herself to fall asleep.

She’d nearly drifted off when Drew whispered, “Shea?”

She responded with a bleary, “mm? Wha’?”

“Thank you for… staying.”

Immediately her face flushed, flustered by a single grateful comment. “Yeah, well, um… I guess I kinda owed you, you know. Thanks for watching the movie with me.” Strange that she saved the lives of citizens of Go City constantly and the most grateful comment she’d received in the last few years were skeevy compliments about her looks, and yet here was Drew, genuinely thanking her for just… being there.

He must have felt as awkward as she did receiving thanks because he immediately began to stammer. “Sure, of course. No problem. A deals a deal. Thanks for choosing something not horribly gory. Even if it was still horrible.”

“Yeah, sure. Go to sleep, Drew.”

“Right. Night.”

“Night,” she repeated, before drifting off into a content and cozy sleep, mostly unaware of the small smile plastered to her face.