#Sharing a Bed

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

“You’re not touching me.” You attempt to answer, “Or- well, you are, but-“

“But it doesn’t matter what I mean by it if you don’t like it. So is it okay?”

Wow. I’ll take, “Things I Didn’t Expect To Make Me Cry” for 100, Alex! 😭😭

“Good.” He repeats, and you swear this one sounds shakier, almost thicker than the last one […]

*Unintelligible noises*

“That’s it, sweet thing, relax. I’ll make sure you get to sleep.[“]

The fandom is SLEEPING 👏🏻 ON 👏🏻 THIS 👏🏻 NICKNAME!!! 👏🏻 Seriously, I want to see this FOREVVVERRRR!!!!!

For Tyler Owens x shy!reader maybe it’s their first time sharing a bed at a motel after tornado chasing? Nothing sexual just like sharing a bed and being shy about it?

Heartbeat - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

You've always been envious of the universal man-ability to fall asleep within seconds of their heads hitting the pillow, but now you're feeling the hurt worse than ever. It's well past one in the morning, Tyler's been asleep for over an hour, and you've been staring at a suspicious patch of something that's probably mold in the corner of the motel room ceiling.

It's not the nicest place, but you're stranded in the middle of a backroad stretch of Arkansas, so any place with a roof, even a moldy one, is a nice place.

Tyler's phone rings, technically set to vibrate but humming nevertheless as it lights up the room. You're expecting him to sleep right through it but he stirs, extending a lazy hand to press at the power button until it stops buzzing. Then, with a hefty grunt, he heaves over onto his side, and comes sleepy-face to sleepy-face with you.

"Oh," He starts, eyes widening from where they'd been barely open, "You're-" He clears his throat, his voice raspy, "You're awake, darlin'?"

His strong arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close, drawing you into warmth you hadn't accumulated yourself despite laying for the same length of time. You huddle into it even though there's a fire burning your cheeks and scalding your mind.

When you don't answer, Tyler rambles sleepily, "Sorry, my- m'phone was goin' off. Some scam caller, 'm pretty sure. Were you-" A yawn cuts through his words, "Awake before that?"

"Mhm," You nod, thankful for the sanctuary of his clothed chest despite it being the reason you're so flustered.

"You ever get to sleep, sweet thing?"

That's the million-dollar question. Million-dollar question meaning the one you'd pay a million dollars to avoid answering.

Your answering hum is non-committal at best, but Tyler seems to know there's a reason you hadn't flat-out said yes.

"My poor baby," He frowns, bleary but still concerned, as he pulls back to free your face from his chest. You're still encircled by his impressive arm, though, and you can't meet his eye as he stares down at you.

"What's'a matter, honey-bun?"

"Hm?"

"Why can't you sleep?" He asks, then guesses, "Is it the smell'a mildew that's comin' off of everything?"

His bluntness startles you into laughter, but you know he expects an answer from the way he maintains your gaze, sympathy shining in his sweet, sleepy eyes.

Now starts the squirming, "Um, I dunno. I guess the bed's just not too comfy," You prod at the cheaply-made mattress beneath you, "And- I think I'm just not used to sleeping with other people, y'know, and then the bathroom fan makes a weird noise even when it's off-"

Your attempts to bury the lede had failed. Tyler's brows furrow and he leans in, your nose-to-nose positioning only making your bashfulness worse as he murmurs, "Is this the first time you're sharin' a bed with anyone, sweet thing?"

Even the little details, the soft gust of his breath on your face as he watches you makes your insides crawl with mortification. You're so close, and he's so there, and he's finally figured out that you've never done anything like this before, and- god, how do you play this off?

"No, I have, I- I've had, y'know, sleepovers with friends and, um, I had a cat growing up, that kind of thing. Just not-" You break away when your eyes flicker over his, and you hold eye contact for as long as possible, "Not like this. Nothing like this."

Tyler doesn't laugh, even though he probably really wants to. Even though you've probably made a complete fool out of yourself, and he's going to snicker at your predicament with his friends later, he doesn't laugh, and instead he- he presses a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"I think I'm a little more involved than a cat," He hums gently, "Are you okay with me touchin' you like this, angel baby?"

His arm is around your waist, and his face is up against your own- that's it. He's not getting handsy, not venturing lower than necessary or trying to shove his large hands beneath your clothes.

"You're not touching me." You attempt to answer, "Or- well, you are, but-"

"But it doesn't matter what I mean by it if you don't like it. So is it okay?"

You consider the feeling of his strong arm tucking you tight into his chest, as well as the intoxicating feeling of each breath he takes being fanned over your face, a privilege you hope you're the only one to have experienced.

"Yeah," You melt into his arms, even squirming closer as he lets you lead, "This is okay. It's- I like it."

"Good." He murmurs, and you feel it more than hear it from the way you're nestled against his chest, "What normally helps you fall asleep? Cat breath?"

"Maybe," You laugh, recalling your tuna-scented companion, "But I don't know. Just- this is nice. Your breathing and," You pause, listening, "The beat of your heart."

Tyler's fingers freeze a beat before they curl against your scalp, raking gently and soothingly through your hair.

"Good." He repeats, and you swear this one sounds shakier, almost thicker than the last one, "That's it, sweet thing, relax. I'll make sure you get to sleep. And tomorrow I'll act like a gentleman, 'won't just collapse into bed and get to snorin'. before you've even brushed your teeth."

Your laugh is the last one you release for the night- the last sound altogether besides the soft breathing that evens in your chest, and it's all funneled into Tyler's chest like a prize he's won.

[fishieguyy]

rhaeniczzZZZZ

[girl-named-matty]

Sharing a bed with the Boys (Hogwarts Legacy Headcanons)

Sharing a bed with the boys. Tags: Fluff, Sharing a bed, gn!reader, Sebastian x Reader, Ominis x Reader, Garreth x Reader, Leander x Reader. (this is barely proofread haha) Rating: General Audiences

Summary: My Headcanons for sharing a bed with the boys!

Sebastian:

When you first asked him if he wanted to share a bed, he practically jumped straight in it. He was so excited. 

But that was just the first time. 

He stays up reading almost every night so good luck getting him into that bed in the first place after that. 

And by late I mean genuinely unholy hours of the night kinda staying up and he wonders why he looks so tired. 

If you do eventually get him in bed, it doesn’t take him long to actually fall asleep. Aside from the constant lack of sleep he usually gets, he’s always been one to fall asleep quickly. 

He is a human body heater. 

Some nights you may not even need a blanket because he’s just that warm. 

I feel like Seb would be the kind of guy to practically sleep on top of you. Like not enough to crush you but instead it feels like a really nice weighted (and warm) blanket. 

Except for this blanket snores. 

Loud 

I’m sorry I don’t make the rules. 

Sometimes it's really annoying to share a bed with him and other times it's really nice. 

If he ever comes to bed early, it’s how you know he’s had a rough day and just needs to be in your arms for comfort. ..

Ominis:

Unlike Sebastian who would totally be up to sharing a bed, he would be more hesitant. 

It’s not like he doesn’t want to, per se, but he’s used to having his own space and he’s not necessarily the most touchy person. But eventually, he says he’s ready. 

Kinda awkward the first few nights. He slept with his back towards you and didn't make any physical touch at all. 

But after a couple of nights, he slowly starts making the shift to get closer to you and he comes to enjoy it. 

After that, he finds it hard to sleep without you. 

Due to not having the best childhood, he often has nightmares. And for him his nightmares are extremely unnerving due to the fact that he can’t see anything, only hear things. 

But one of the best parts about sharing a bed with you is the fact that whenever his nightmares wake him up, you’re right there next to him. 

He often finds himself reaching out for you in the middle of the night, just to make sure you’re still there. 

 He’s definitely a side sleeper so sometimes you’ll sleep in the spooning position together. This also reassures him a lot that you’re still next to him. ..

Garreth: 

Didn’t take long for you two to start sharing a bed at all. 

Since he has so many siblings he probably had to share a bed with one of his brothers at some point in his childhood anyway. 

But just because he might be used to it does not mean he’s easy to share a bed with. 

This boy is a BED HOGGER. 

If you are quite literally not right up against him, you’re falling off the bed. 

You thought Seb gets hot when he sleeps? 

Well, Garreth has him beat by a LONG shot. 

You could probably fry an egg on this man's back just saying. 

But we all know Garreth has that soft tummy action going on so he’s super comfortable and when he’s not hogging the bed, it’s really nice to cuddle up to him. 

When you too are cuddling, he wants to be as close to you as possible. 

So, really, just the sweetest boy to ever exist. ..

Leander: (because he deserves his place on this list) 

He’s similar to Ominis and opposite of Garreth. 

Had very few siblings growing up, probably only one or two so he was used to having his own space. So it took him a while before he was all good with it. 

This boy is lanky af. 

It’s obviously okay. He’s tall, long, lanky, whatever you wanna call it. 

So he probably sleeps with his legs up somehow to keep his feet from hanging off the bed/smacking into the headboard. 

It probably took him a while to get used to cuddling with someone in bed but now that he’s used to it, he loves it. 

He loves it when you sleep on his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and hold you close. 

He’s definitely not a morning person so have fun getting him out of that bed.

Also has really bad bed-head. How do I know this? No man would style his hair the way he does unless he has bed-head so take my word for it. 

100% a cuddler now. ...

Who should I do next? I was thinking Andrew and Amit but lmk in the comments!

[v00do-d0ll]

Do you ever wake up scared from a nightmare where something has happened to your parent(s), and you get an inexplicable need to make sure they are alive. Cuz I was thinking about that with Damien and Bruce.

Like Damien waking up with a gasp because he just dreamt that Bruce died in a brutal way right in front of him; and you know how in your dreams you can’t move as fast as you want to, that happeneds to him and he was stuck there forced to watch his father die in front of him.

And it takes him a moment to realize what happened but he eventually recognizes it was a dream. He knows the manor is safe and that no one could get in without anyone knowing. He knows that Bruce is fine…

But he has to go make sure, because what if that dream was his brain trying to tell him something. What if Bruce stopped breathing in the night and nobody knows. What if he’s had a stroke or a seizure�� yea it’s better to just go check. A quick glance to make sure he’s okay.

So he goes to Bruce’s room determined to not get caught. Just in and out and he’ll go back to bed.

But Bruce has always been a light sleeper, and is always aware of his surroundings even in his sleep. He wakes up after hearing the floor creak ready to attack, grabbing the batarang that he keeps under his mattress ready to strike only to stop once he see’s Damien.

“Dami? What happened? Is something wrong?”

Damien just kinda stands there shocked at how quick Bruce went from Batman to Bruce so quickly.

“Nothing is wrong father, I’m sorry for disturbing you. I will go back to bed.”

Damien turns to leave only for Bruce to stop him. “Damien” Bruce calls out softly “Would you like to sleep in here with me tonight?” he says, with a fond look on his face.

Damien silently contemplates Bruce’s offer, not wanting to look weak in front of Bruce but wanting to stay.

Bruce can see the turmoil on his sons face, so he just scoots over on the bed and lifts the blanket. Not saying anything to rush Damien but letting him know he wants him there.

At his father’s actions, Damien silently crawls into Bruce’s bed. Bruce covers them both, letting Damien have his space.

Wanting to know what happened to make his son want comfort, but not wanting to push. But he can see that something is wrong.

“Dami” Bruce calls out. “Are you okay?”

“Of course father, why would you believe otherwise.” Damien says not looking at Bruce.

Bruce throws a look his way that Damien doesn’t see. “You don’t normally come in my room at night.”

Damien doesn’t say anything for a while but Bruce can see he’s hesitant about something. So he just gives him time, just watching the different emotions pass on Damien’s face.

After a while Damien finally says “I had a nightmare.” And Bruce…, Bruce is familiar with those, he’s had them since his parents died. He knows what they can do to a person because he’s the living proof.

“Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?”

Damien takes a long pause, so long that Bruce thinks that he’s not going to respond, but he eventually whispers…

“I had a dream that you died… and I had to watch as you were brutally murdered in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

There was a tense silence in the air after Damien spoke. Scared he just shouldn’t have spoken at all, but before he could make any type of move, Bruce turned and pulled Damien into his arms.

Damien stiffens at his father’s movements, not use to embracing like this with Bruce. “I’m sorry you had a nightmare, but I’m happy you came to me when you wanted to.” Bruce says as he rubs Damien’s back.

Damien goes slack in Bruce’s arm at his ministrations. In a small voice, spoken into Bruce’s chest Damien says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry I woke you up baba.”

“It’s okay Dami, you can always wake me up.” Bruce pauses for a moment before continuing. “I use to get those nightmares all the time when I was younger. I still get them from time to time.”

Damien looks up a little at Bruce’s words

“I would also crawl into Alfred’s bed when I had them. Most of the time they were about my parents, but a lot of them were about Alfred dying. So I would go check on him while he slept as well .”

Damien’s face looks shocked at what Bruce just told him. Not expecting Bruce to admit that he use to crawl into Alfred’s bed. But it makes him feel better knowing that Bruce understands his feelings.

Damien looks back down to hide in Bruce’s chest but also to discreetly listen to his heartbeat. Just to add that last bit of reassurance that Bruce was okay.

And that’s how they fall asleep, Damien feeling protected in his father’s embrace. Bruce stroking his son’s hair to lull him back to unconsciousness.

Both boys hearts soothed with Damien having learned something new about his father, and Bruce having physical proof that even though their relationship started out rocky, Damien cares deeply for Bruce.

[firelilyfox]

In your skin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: After a mission the two of you have to share a room & at first Bucky gets really mad about it but ... he means well.

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: mention of trauma, weapons, sharing a bed, fluff, heart to heart talk, real sad Bucky

Note: english isn't my mother tongue so sorry in advance :)

____________________________________

It got late real fast after the successful mission in Nairobi. 

The African heat gave way to the cool night, making it way more pleasant to find some sleep soon. Part of the Thunderbolts found shelter in a luxury hotel in the middle of the lively city, but there were almost fully booked so the only two rooms left had to be evenly shared. Yelena, Alexei, Bucky and me. 

„I will not let my daughter sleep in a room with another man“, Alexei barked. „No offense Winter Soldier, I have deeply respect for you. But my daughter will be protected from you manly charme by myself.“ His strong russian accent marking the importance of his protectiveness about Yelena. 

„Alexei I’m a grown woman and can protect myself from stupid men“ Yelena says unimpressed. The four of us were standing in the empty hallway, on each side a closed door and fitting keycards in my hands. I look at them and then up at Bucky. He was easily two heads taller than me with a strong disapproval look on his face, but he kept quiet. He was always the quiet one of the group (besides one or two snarky comments from time to time). „You can sleep with him then if you want“, Yelena adds. 

„Don’t be ridiculous. I will not let you out of my sight with this nasty wound. You are my daughter and I will protect-…“ but Alexei couldn’t finish the sentence because Yelena shut his mouth with her own hand. 

„Got it old man. So its the two of us and the two of you then.“ She pointed at me and at Bucky afterwards. I opened my mouth for approval but got interrupted immediately. 

„No fucking way“, Bucky grumbles.  

Okay. Ouch. That was unnecessary and a bit rude. 

Even the farther-daughter duo frowned in confusion. It was true that Bucky and had a …complicated way of acting around each other for the last couple of months. At first I thought we would be good co-workers. He always kept an eye out for me when I started to train with the Thunderbolts because I didn’t knew my way around and had a tendency to stumble into very unfortunate situations. For example that one time in Norway … ugh I rather not think about that. Nonetheless with time passing by he had become more like … a friend I think. Bucky was always there if I needed him - but never too close. Even a little part of me, that I desperately try to suffocate, wants him to be just … closer sometimes. 

„Do I get to tell my opinion in this?“ I ask a bit annoyed by his sudden rudeness. „I have no problem to stay with you in a room.“ He shoots me a deadly look but that doesn’t scare me off. Not the tiniest bit. No clue what his problem his, but I won’t let him push me away like that. If he has something to say, then he can tell me whilst sharing a god damn room. 

„Great! Its settled then. You two get to - ...“ 

„This isn’t an option“, Bucky interrupts Alexei again and this time he almost exploded. His voice had a much deeper and darker ring to it now. But it didn’t made me flinch. It made me mad. 

„Why does everybody interrupts Alexei all the ti-…“ 

„Well I don’t care. Here.“ I handed Yelena and her father one keycard and kept the other one for Bucky and myself. „I’m done with this conversation. Get in here.“ I tell him and opened the door with a soft clicking sound. 

„Have a pleasant night“, Yelena chuckles and disappeared with Alexei in the room across the hallway. Bucky stands still as a stone without any muscle moving. My rage was overflood by hurt. Was it really that awful to share a room with me?  

„I have no idea why its such a problem for you to stay in a room with me. If it’s because I am a woman then I can assure you it’s more than common in this century for a man and a woman to …“ 

„It’s not because of that. I shared a room with a woman before.“ He says and stepped around me into the hotel room. Paying close attention to our arms not touching by accident. 

I closed the door behind me. „Well good for you I guess.“ A little stab of jealousy hit me. „But if it aint that then why -…“ 

„We should get some sleep.“ And just like that there was another sentence that won’t be finished this evening. Great fucking fun. 

We got changed into our nightgowns and by that i mean that Bucky was still wearing his black shirt and boxer. While i got rid of almost every piece of clothing. In my underwear and a simple tanktop I sat down on the bed beside him. His metal arm flexing a few times he looked lost in thoughts. 

„How does it feel?“ I ask before I could stop myself. 

He frowns. „What do you mean?“ 

„I mean do you really feel everything? Like heat when you burn yourself while cooking or the fabric of a blanket?“ No clue why I was bubbling with stupid questions like that out of the blue. Might be the sight of him in boxers that fried my brain a little bit. I’m thankful he isn’t a mindreader. 

A soft smile lays down on his lips. The first since we entered this room. „Yeah. In Wakanda they have some very advanced techniques and great minds who work on stuff like that. I have not the slightest idea how this works.“ He holds his metal hand with the palm up and looks at me. „But it works.“ 

Without any thoughts I lay my hand in his. I expected the metal to be cold and hard. But somehow it felt warm and … real. Like it is more than just a piece of dead materiel. I moved my fingers along the palm and up to his wrist. It was formed exactly like his other arm. Strong and even the muscles were mirrored to the tiniest detail. Something comes over me and out of pure curiosity my other hand finds his real arm to compare the two of them. 

For a moment Bucky stayed completely still. He was not moving at all and I doubt that he was even breathing normal anymore. „Does it feel the same?“ 

He cleared his throat. „No.“ 

„What’s the difference?“ I look up and almost drown in his blue eyes. His face must’ve come closer. Or did I move in his direction? I don’t recall. All I know is that his nose was only inches away from mine, wich means that his lips were… 

„You should get some sleep. Now.“ Bucky rumbles with a husky voice. Within a second he stood up from the bed and moved to the other side of the room. 

There it was. The hurt from before hits me like a truck. 

„You really find me that repulsive?“ 

He opened his mouth. Stopped. Closed it and opened it again. All without saying a single word. Understood. „Will you come back?“ I ask instead. 

He has one hand on the doorknob. „Yes. When you are asleep.“ 

And so I did. I cried myself into a dreamless sleep. Drowning in my own self-pity because the guy I like would rather run away in the middle of the night, than share a bed with me. 

A bright crack tore me out of my slumber and I was wide awake in the matter of seconds. But not because of the thunderstorm outside the window. My fingers were curled around something cold and hard. The silhouette of Bucky was calmly sleeping beside me. My senses knew the feeling of this heavy metal and it wasn’t the arm I felt earlier tonight. 

It was a gun. 

A fucking gun in my hand. 

What? 

„Bucky?“, I whisper. „Bucky wake up!“ My voice pitched high, wich made him wake up instantly. 

„What is it? What happened?“ He asks breathlessly, eyes wide in shock, head snapping from side to side to make out any danger. But the only thing what would fall in that category appeared magically in my hand while I was asleep. 

I hold the gun up and waved it slightly. „Hello? Why do i have your gun in my hand?“ 

„Why are you so certain it’s mine, doll?“ His eyes narrow. I try to pull myself together because I didn’t expect him to call me by his pet name for me. He only used it a couple of times before and only when we were alone. 

„Oh please Bucky! I know your guns by heart. So why is it in this god damn bed?“ I shriek. 

He broke the eye contact and shuffled himself into a sitting position. The thin blanket that we both shared shifted down to his lap. Bucky leaned his back against the headboard and let out a deep sigh. „Just in case.“ 

„I beg you pardon?“ 

„Just in case you need it.“ He still has his eyes closed but I could hear in his voice that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. 

„James Buchanan Barnes you better cut that shitshow and tell me why you put that thing in my hand“, I say as I sit up, not caring that the blanket completely vanished from my body. 

Bucky turned to finally look at me. His expression were serious at first, but then his eyes dart down to my naked legs and at the waistband of my top that slipped up a bit, showing a small gap of my hips and stomach. I could swear to see his throat move as if he had to swallow … hard. And his face transformed from serious to something much more intense. Was it longing or am I now completely loosing my mind? 

„You are the only person I allow to call me like that“, he says with a tight voice. 

„Cut the crap. Now.“ 

Bucky sighs again. „Fuck. Okay fine. The gun is for emergency. In case you have to take me out.“ 

My heart stops beating for a painfully moment. With widened eyes I look at him. He sits there looking so broken, so serious about what he just confessed to me. His sad sad blue eyes studying me, waiting for a response. I know what his reasons are. He has terrible nightmares. Bad ones from his past and even darker ones made from his guilt. 

„The fuck I will.“ With two quick moves I dissemble the gun in its individual parts. Bucky watches me with disbelieve in his eyes. „I refuse to let you think I would ever do that.“ 

„Maybe you will not have a choice when it becomes bad!“ He tries to grab the metal pieces but I throw them away without a second thought. „When the Winter Soldier takes over I can’t guarantee for anything. He could do …“ 

„I don’t give a shit!“ I bark. „You would never hurt me. I know that in my bones.“ 

He lets his hand sink and land on my knee. It needs a lot of self control to not follow it with my eyes. „You’re right. I would never. But he could.“ 

I lean forward, just a little to make my point clear. „I trust you.“ 

„You shouldn’t.“ His voice was nothing more than a whisper. I could feel it brushing over my cheeks. „I’m a threat.“ 

I cock my head to the side. „Is that the reason why you didn’t want to share a room with me? Because you were scared that you might attack me in your sleep?“ 

He nods. And my heart shatters into a million tiny pieces. His hair falls in strains into his face making him look even more exhausted than ever. I've come to thinking about the fact that his mind had to be constantly in stay alert mode. 

„Do you ever let yourself catch a break, Bucky?“ 

At first he stays completely still. Then a deep, tired sigh. And when he finally looks up to answer he da the saddest smile on his face that I’ve ever laid eyes on. „I don’t think so, doll. Can’t remember.“ 

I reach forward to place my palm above his heart. It beats slow but a little uneven - as if my touch had an effect on him too. „You deserve to feel safe for at least one night. You deserve so much more than that.“ I leaned in his direction, let my body sink against his and gave him the chance to slowly get used to so much skin to skin contact. But he didn’t hesitate as I thought he would do. Instead Bucky pulled me so close that I imagined to morph fully into him. Melt together and finally feel complete. 

His metal arm laid wrapped around me and gave me the support I needed. His other hand placed at the back of my head - fingers tangled up into my hair. I feel his body relax beneath me and a little smile appeared on my lips. 

„Nothing I could do would ever made me deserve you, doll.“ His words rushed my system like a big tidal wave and i shook my head up from his chest to look at him. 

„You don’t have to do anything. Bucky you already own my heart. And you truly deserve it.“ 

He smiled softly. I could feel his hand on my head pulling me closer up to him. I obey happily. „I will take good care of it, doll. I promise to be worthy for you.“ 

„I know because you already are.“ 

Bucky kissed me. His lips were touching mine with such softness I almost cried. Hands so tender and carefully holding me while his mouth claiming my whole consciousness. I leaned into him to feel as much of him as I could. He deepened the kiss and I let out a sigh of relief. I swear I could feel him smile against my lips.

I know I will never get tired of this. Ever. 

———————

Thanks for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙(Please don’t copy my work)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist 🦾

[estrellami-1]

Keep Me (And I’ll Keep You)

Ao3 Link

Eddie hums contentedly as he sits on the couch, beer in hand. The couch is cotton, a soft brown that matches the rest of the living room. It’s one of those fancy sectionals that, up until knowing Steve, Eddie had only seen in catalogs. It’s a comfy couch, and he hums again as he settles in, wiggling his butt and shoulders, doing his best to let the couch envelop him.

Steve, to his left, snorts as he sits down. “Looks like you’re trying to become one with the couch.”

“Hey, it’s comfortable,” Eddie says, giving an aborted shrug and leaning his head back.

Steve chuckles, then sobers. “Y’know, sometimes I think when I move out, what’s the one thing I’m gonna miss the most? What’s the one thing I want to bring with me? And nine times out of ten, it’s this couch.”

“What’s the other one?”

“The microwave.” Eddie snickers. “Hey, you laugh, but those things are expensive!” Steve defends himself, also laughing. He’s got one knee up on the couch, turned to face Eddie, leaning sideways against the back of the couch.

A shout startles them both, and Eddie whips his head around to the dining room, where the Party is gathered. Will is DM today, after a long brainstorming session with Eddie. He’d brought the kids here and is available in case Will gets stuck, but Eddie silently thinks Will downplays his abilities. He’s a damn good DM, especially for his age, and Eddie was actively considering joining in.

Ultimately he decided to let the kids have this one. Erica, no doubt, would’ve joked (at least, he thinks it’s a joke) about Eddie cramping their style.

So here he is, relaxing on the couch with the man of the house, who’s relaxing now that he knows there’s no actual danger, only imagined.

Steve sighs, leaning forward to put his beer on the coffee table. “One of these days I’m gonna wake up and find a grey hair, and I’m gonna know it came from them.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, man, you think that’s bad,” he jokes, and continues on to tell a story about something the kids had done involving Dustin’s second cat, a balloon, and a car tire. He leans forward to put his beer down, too, and when he leans back again Steve slides forward, head coming to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

And here’s the deal, right? They don’t do that. They don’t casual touch like that. Eddie does, with most anybody, but Steve is in a class of his own, one that Eddie knows not to mess with for his own heart’s sake.

Said heart rabbits in his chest as he freezes, words drying up. He slowly looks over at Steve and sees closed eyes and open mouth. “Oh,” he whispers, cataloging the soft wisp of eyelashes resting on cheeks, the crinkle on his nose, scrunching up his moles, the lips slightly parted, driving damp puffs of breath to land on Eddie’s arm.

The next thing Eddie notices is Steve’s neck is at a weird angle. If he were to guess, he’d say Steve hadn’t been sleeping very well, and waking him is the last thing he wants to do. He tries to shimmy down the couch a little, to relax Steve’s neck some, but Steve’s upper body moves with his head, and now Eddie thinks the crick in his neck is more severe. “Fuck,” he mutters, shimmying down more, because surely it’ll work this time.

Something happens. He doesn’t know what, exactly, just knows that as he shimmies down Steve’s head slides down his shoulder, down his chest, to land on his stomach.

Steve murmurs something and shifts, turning his face into Eddie’s stomach as he stretches out, still asleep.

Butterflies awaken with a vengeance.

Shifting down his body means Eddie’s arm is free. He lifts it up nonsensically, as if not touching Steve of his own will is better than whatever the fuck is happening, but he can only hold his arm up for so long, so he eventually, gently rests it over Steve’s back and side. “What the fuck,” he mouths to himself.

It’s quiet and comfortable, though, the low murmur of voices in the other room doing nothing to keep Eddie awake, so it’s not long before he begins to drift off, too.

Sue him, he hasn’t been sleeping all that well, either.

He opens his eyes to Will walking into the room before seeing them and freezing. Eddie forces himself more awake, blinking rapidly until some of the fog lifts. He gestures Will closer with the hand not on Steve, and Will shakes his head, smiling. “We’re done,” he whispers. “I’ll call Jonathan.”

The words take a minute to make sense in Eddie’s brain. When they do, he shoots Will a thumbs up.

Will leaves, and Eddie succumbs to the siren call of sleep once more.

When he wakes up, he’s alone.

It’s morning, he can tell by the light in the room, natural now instead of artificial. His back is screaming at him, and his neck isn’t too happy either, so he takes his time sitting up and stretching, imagining the jokes Wayne would throw his way.

“Oh,” someone says, and Eddie looks over to see Steve, pink-cheeked, holding two mugs of coffee.

He seems to make a decision and crosses over to the couch, handing Eddie one of the mugs. It’s blue-and-white checkered, like Dorothy’s dress in The Wizard of Oz, and something about it makes Eddie smile even before Steve says, “Here. Enough sugar to give a bull a heart attack.”

Eddie takes a sip and hums gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

“I, uh. Think that’s my line.” Steve’s cheeks are even pinker now, and he’s studiously not looking at Eddie. “And sorry. For falling asleep on you.”

There’s about a million things Eddie wants to say that he bites his tongue on. Ends up with, “Actually, I slept really well last night.”

Steve’s cheeks are still pink, but he at least glances at Eddie when he says, “Yeah. Me too.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, Eddie thinks. “I haven’t been sleeping super well, actually. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “I do.”

It’s silent for a second, long enough that Eddie begins to inanely suggest, “Maybe we could-”

At the same time, Steve starts, “What if we-”

They break off at the same time, blinking at each other before laughing. “You first,” Eddie says.

Steve’s cheeks burn again. “What if we did it again?”

Eddie grins. “I was gonna say maybe we could do it again,” he admits.

Steve giggles, and Eddie has to work to not stare at him with actual hearts in his eyes.

“Not every night,” Eddie hazards. God knows he wants to do it every night. God also knows it’s the fastest way to break his own heart.

“No, of course not. Just- when it gets bad?”

It’s bad every night, Eddie swallows, chokes on. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

“And- we’ll just call each other, I guess.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “You- you’re welcome to call whenever. Day or night. Doesn’t matter.”

“Same for you.”

“What about Wayne?”

“Works nights. And I’m home during the day. If I’m not, I’m with you guys. No chance of waking him up.”

Steve snickers. “Unless you sleep through the phone ringing.”

Eddie snorts. “Fat chance. Every little sound wakes me up, now.”

Steve really looks at him. “Yeah,” he finally murmurs. “I know how that is.”

They finish their coffee, Eddie leaves, and Steve heads into work.

That night, four seconds before Eddie gets up to call Steve, the phone rings.

He bolts down the hall, grabs it so hard he hears the plastic casing creak. “Hello?”

“Eddie.” Steve sounds… small. Relieved, like he wasn’t sure Eddie would answer. “Thought-” Eddie can hear the crease between his brows. “Dream, I guess.” He sniffs, clears his throat. ��Sorry.”

“No, hey,” Eddie tells him, “that’s why we’re doing this, you don’t need to say sorry. D’you wanna stay on the phone for a few more minutes? Or can I go for, like, ten minutes?” Usually the drive to Steve’s house is more like fifteen, he knows, but like hell is he following the speed limits when they’re both feeling like this.

“No,” Steve murmurs. “I can- I can go, sorry, you should- you were asleep, I bet-”

“Nope,” Eddie tells him cheerfully. “I wasn’t asleep and I actually was about to call you. I’m gonna hang up so I can drive over, Steve. Are you at a place where you’ll be okay if I hang up?”

Steve hums. “Think so.”

“I’m not getting off until that’s a yes.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “No, it’s- ‘m fine, sorry, you can- if you wanna go-”

“Steve. You’re kinda proving that you’re not okay right now.”

“Oh.”

Eddie huffs out an approximation of a laugh. “Yeah. Think you can take some deep breaths for me?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll do it with you, ready?” He coaches Steve through a breath, then through three more, until Steve’s able to inhale without it sticking. “Good. How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Steve admits. “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to.”

“Stevie, baby, I don’t have to do anything.”

He’s grinning, hamming it up for Steve, and can hear the smile in return, the little huff that means a laugh. “But you’re coming over? Because you want to?”

“Ding ding ding, that is correct!” Steve giggles. When it dies down, Eddie quietly says, “I’ll see you in ten, okay?”

“Fifteen,” Steve counters, “don’t speed.”

“Five,” Eddie says nonsensically.

Steve giggles as he says, “You’re already here?”

“I’m already in your bed, are you kiddin’ me? I got there half an hour ago.”

Steve laughs again. When he sobers, he says, “Fifteen. I’ll unlock the door in thirteen, not a minute sooner.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Eddie says, “seven,” and hangs up to Steve’s laughter.

He’s smiling as he pulls shoes on and grabs his keys and wallet. He’s out the door in two minutes, locking it behind him and hopping into his van.

He makes it to Steve’s in twelve minutes, hoping the door’s unlocked so he can walk in.

Steve opens it before he can even get there. “What happened to fifteen?”

Eddie shrugs, smiles. “You know me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he moves to let Eddie in. “Unfortunately I do.”

“Hey,” Eddie says, affronted, “what’s that mean,” and pulls Steve into a hug before he can say anything.

Steve stiffens for a second, not expecting the hug, but then relaxes into it so quickly Eddie’s almost sure he imagines the stiffness. “Thanks for coming,” he whispers.

“Thanks for calling,” Eddie whispers back, pulling away with a smile. “Bed? Or not yet?”

“Bed,” Steve agrees, leading him upstairs before stopping halfway. “Or- would you prefer the couch?”

“Why the hell would I prefer a couch over a bed,” Eddie demands, nudging Steve to keep him moving. His words are soft, though, as he says, “Wherever you want.”

“Bed,” Steve agrees, just as softly.

They climb in then stare at each other. “How do you wanna do this?” Steve asks him.

“However you want.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll take too much,” he whispers.

Eddie thinks, privately, Steve’s more fucked up than anyone knows. “Not if I’m willing to give you everything,” Eddie swears, heart in his throat and on the line. “C’mon. You called me. Help me learn how to help you.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“It won’t be,” Eddie swears, “but yeah. I’ll tell you.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment. Eddie does his best to keep his expression open and willing. He’s not sure how he’s doing, but it must be good enough for Steve, because he burrows in, tucking his face into Eddie’s chest, throwing an arm over Eddie’s waist and relaxing.

Eddie responds in kind, laying an arm over Steve’s, around his back, and pulling him in that little bit closer. “Sleep,” he whispers, even as he succumbs and his eyes close.

When he awakens in the morning, it’s still dark, but Steve’s getting up. He makes a questioning noise, reaching out for him.

Steve squeezes his hand before placing it down again. “Just going to the bathroom,” he whispers. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He falls back asleep.

When he wakes up again, Steve’s back in bed, curled up against him, breath whiffling across Eddie’s chest.

Something in his chest cracks open as he lets himself study Steve. There’s a slight furrow in his brow, like even in sleep he’s still holding onto stress. Eddie wants to hold him by the ankles and shake him until all the bad thoughts come out and only the good remain. A sigh escapes his mouth at the thought, wisping over Steve’s face, and it’s apparently enough to wake him. Eddie watches as Steve’s face scrunches and his feet kick out in a stretch. He rolls over closer to Eddie, putting his face in Eddie’s chest, then freezes and pulls back, looking up at Eddie with a confused frown that quickly turns into a shy smile. “Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” Eddie responds.

“Y’wake?” Steve asks nonsensically, but Eddie understands: is he really up, or is he going back to sleep.

Eddie shrugs in response. Steve nods, rolling back over into Eddie’s chest and sighing.

The thing in Eddie’s chest cracks more.

He wraps his arm around Steve again. He feels it, the moment Steve falls asleep, all tension leeching from his body.

He’s warm and solid, breathing evenly, and Eddie’s eyes don’t want to open, go longer and longer between blinks.

He falls asleep.

When he wakes up again—the third and final time—Steve’s out of bed, and the sheets are cool to the touch. “What,” he mutters, brows furrowed, palm on the sheets next to him. The area is slowly warming up, from his body heat, but they were definitely cold.

He sits up, stretches, scratches his head, and makes his way downstairs to look for Steve.

He can smell coffee and pancakes halfway down. The thing in his chest is wide open, hungry, hurting.

Hunting.

He thinks, stuck halfway down the stairs, he needs to stay away from Steve.

He has no idea how he’s going to do that.

He finishes his walk and finds himself in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the wall, watching Steve cook.

He flips a pancake, shimmies his hips when the pancake is perfectly brown, and slides it off onto a stack next to him. He pours more batter in and turns to get some coffee, freezing for a second when he sees Eddie. “Hey, you’re up! How’d you sleep?”

Eddie nods, watching Steve walk over to the coffee pot and grab two mugs. “Pancakes are almost done, coffee’s here, sugar’s here-” he points, “-and milk’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”

“Um,” Eddie says, and heads toward the coffee.

Steve grins. “Not a morning person? I can tone it down if you need me to.”

Eddie waves him off, doctors his coffee, and takes a long sip, humming at the taste and warmth. “You’re fine,” he finally says. “I just need, like, five minutes for my brain to go oh, we’re awake, I should work.” He adopts a funny voice for his brain, smirking when Steve laughs.

“Fair enough. Any plans for the day?”

Eddie hums as he thinks through his schedule. “Band practice with the guys tonight, and…” he doesn’t have any plans with Wayne, but he knows he needs to talk this through, so, “Wayne wants my help with… something. I dunno.”

Steve snorts. “Sounds exciting.”

“Oh, yeah, the height of excitement, I’m just gonna expire from anticipation.” He sends Steve a flat look, and Steve cackles as he flips another pancake.

“Well let me know if this super-exciting thing you’re doing needs another set of hands.”

“Will do,” Eddie says. “Thanks for breakfast, by the way.”

Steve shrugs. “I like cooking. Not much reason to when it’s just me, so I don’t usually do pancakes, but I do enjoy it.”

“Well,” Eddie says, leaning on the counter, “isn’t that reason enough?”

Steve stills for a moment, tilting his head. “Huh. I never thought of it that way.”

The thing in Eddie’s chest grumbles.

His stomach also grumbles, and Steve hears that, laughing as he retrieves a plate. “Here, take some, syrup is in the pantry and jelly is in the fridge.” He stacks a plate with four pancakes, thrusting it Eddie’s direction.

Eddie notices there’s only two on his plate, takes one from his pile and puts it on Steve’s. “Only if you eat too.”

Steve smiles at him, a small, real thing that makes the thing, the monster in his chest ache. “Okay.”

Eddie leaves soon after, quoting his thing with Wayne, makes sure Steve knows he can call if he needs someone.

Steve makes sure he knows the same.

The monster claws at his chest.

He covers the wince with a grin, waves on his way out, jumps into his van.

Turns the tape up until the drumbeat drowns out his thoughts.

He’s back to the trailer in fifteen. Wayne’s there, awake, facing the door when Eddie comes through. “Thought so,” he says, first thing. “You needta talk.”

Eddie collapses into a ball on the couch.

Wayne joins him, pulls him in, like he’s two instead of twenty, like a heart in danger of breaking is the same as a skinned knee. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to me. That’s what you do.”

“I really like him, Wayne.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s- he’s so nice, but he-”

He sniffles. Only realizes then that he’s crying. “Wayne,” he asks, “am I a good person?”

“You are.”

“Why’s the worst shit always happen to good people?”

Wayne sighs. “I wish I knew.”

“He’s better than me. And he’s had so much shit thrown his way. And I just- I wanna help but I dunno how when I see him like this.”

“You wanna take care of him.”

“Yeah.” Another sniffle. “But he doesn’t want that.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Didn’t need to. I can see it.”

Wayne hums. “Y’know when you first got here, you were scared of me? Not ‘cause I’m Al’s brother. Because of me. ‘Cause my face scared you. You thought I was always mad. Sometimes what you see isn’t how it is.”

“But how do I know?”

“You don’t. Not unless you talk to him.” He rubs a hand down Eddie’s spine. “How ‘bout that Birdie girl? She’s his best friend. She might be able to tell you more.”

“She won’t tell me anything.”

“My momma had a saying. Honesty begets honesty. Talk to her. Tell her the truth. She’ll tell you a truth right back.”

“…Today?”

“Better sooner ‘n later, but I guess it don’t gotta be today.”

Eddie sighs. “Today.” He picks at the knee of his sleep pants, worn with age. “How?”

“How do you talk to her?”

“Mhm.”

“Honesty, boy. ‘S about all y’got.”

Eddie sighs, leans into Wayne. Lets himself be held for a moment longer.

Wayne sighs, too. “Wanna watch that animal documentary?”

Eddie immediately perks up. “Really? You’ll watch it with me?”

Wayne smiles, nudges him off his lap. “Go put it in.”

Eddie grins as he races to do so, and the next two hours is lost to polar bears and orcas.

After it’s over, Wayne stands with a sigh and ruffles Eddie’s hair as he walks past. “Got work tonight. Y’mind bein’ quiet today?”

Eddie hums. “Imma go find Robin. Talk to her. Wish me luck.”

“Y’dont need it,” Wayne says, “but luck anyways.” He waves as he passes into his room.

Eddie grabs his car keys, looks down, and sets the keys back down before trudging to his room to change.

Soon enough he’s walking into Family Video. “Buckley!” He greets happily.

“Munson!” She parrots before her voice flattens. “The fuck you want.” Her eyes are sparkling, though, and the corners of her mouth are twitching up, so he pays no mind to her words. He drapes himself over the counter with a dramatic sigh. “You ‘lone?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we… talk?”

“This is starting to feel like a visit to the principal’s office.”

He pops his head up, eyes wide. “No, no, no! It’s not that at all! It’s me.” He lays his head back down with another sigh. “It’s… okay, so, let’s say, hypothetically, I… liked someone.”

“Steve, got it, go on.”

He puts an arm over his face. “And let’s say—still hypothetically—I did something, said something, that means we’re gonna be in close contact a lot more than before.”

“Okay. I’m following so far.”

He shrugs. “What do I do?”

“What’s the thing?”

“Y’know how he hosted Hellfire last time?”

“Sure.”

“Well I wasn’t playing, Will was DM and I was just there for guidance if he needed it, which he didn’t, kid’s a natural, but. Anyways. I was sitting with Steve in the living room, and we were talking, and I start telling him this story and… he falls asleep on my shoulder.” He groans. “And he looked so peaceful, I couldn’t disturb that, y’know?”

“Okay, I’m following so far.”

“Well turns out when there’s nothing to do but sit there, you end up falling asleep, too.” He clenches a hand in his hair. “We cuddled, Birdie. And then we told each other that we slept well, so I, like the absolute fool I am, said he can call me. If he wants. If he needs someone.”

“He called you last night.”

“He did. I dunno what to do, Robbie.”

“I’m not in the business of telling you what to do. But I can tell you if you told him, he wouldn’t react badly.”

“You’re sure?”

She lays her head down next to his, meeting his eyes. “I’d bet my life on it.”

“So… you think I should tell him?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Eddie.”

He groans and shuts his eyes. “This sucks.”

“Feelings usually do,” she nods, standing up and ruffling his hair. “But if I were you, I’d talk to him.”

Eddie makes a face. “Today?”

Robin shrugs. “Is there a better time?”

Eddie thinks it through. “Tomorrow,” he decides. He looks up at Robin. “If I don’t tell him tomorrow, can you tell him the day after?”

Robin raises her brows. “You want me to?”

“Yeah. Like… like incentive. Because if I know it’s gonna happen anyways, it’s better if I do it, right?”

Robin smiles. “I’ll tell him the day after tomorrow if you don’t.”

“Thanks.” He squeezes her hand, straightens up. Smiles. “I’ve gotta run. You’re a good friend, Buckley.”

She smiles, rolls her eyes. “Get outta here, Munson.”

His grin grows wider. “You’re a good friend, Buckley, I don’t know what I do without you!”

“Die, probably,” she deadpans, also grinning. She makes a shooing motion. “You said you’ve gotta run, so go!”

He laughs and runs out, waving over his shoulder.

He makes it to practice just as Gareth does, and not much practice happens that day, but is it really his fault that Jeff’s mom made lemonade and cookies for them?

He gets home that night, tired but happy, and watches a little TV before going to bed.

It’s a scary movie, not one he’s seen before, with a girl with long, dark hair, obscuring her face. She seems to grin right at Eddie and walks toward the camera. He laughs, because it doesn’t even look real.

Except suddenly it is. Suddenly she’s climbing through the screen, doing things he’s never seen a contortionist do, and heading straight for him. He scrambles over the couch and runs for his room, the girl close behind. He closes and locks the door, searching for his walkie. When he finds it, he depresses the button and yells, “Code red! I repeat, code red! Can anyone hear me?”

Only static greets him when he lets go of the button. His hand begins to shake.

“Code red,” he says again, quieter this time. “Please help, someone, please- it’s a code red, I’m serious!”

She rattles his doorknob, long fingers sneaking under his door, reaching and growing until they can almost reach the lock.

“Hello?” Someone calls out from inside the trailer.

Steve.

“Oh, holy shit-” he can hear Steve scramble back. “Eddie? Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Eddie says, “I’m alive?”

The fingers stop growing. In the blink of an eye, they’re gone. The girl hisses, and Steve whispers out another curse.

Eddie tiptoes to his door amid the sound of fighting. When everything goes quiet, he opens his door.

He can’t see anything at first. He silently walks out of his room, looking around, freezing at the sight of Steve on the ground, eyes open, mouth agape, and the girl crouching over him.

She’s hissing at Eddie, but he can’t even care about that right now, because Steve is looking directly at him, and he knows what it looks like when someone’s dead, and he-

Steve-

Eddie swallows bile, drops to his knees. “Steve?”

He never got the chance to say anything.

Only had one day to enjoy holding him.

He could’ve had longer, if he’d said something before now, if he’d made a move-

Or if not, at least Steve wouldn’t be here, dead-

He swallows a sob. The girl turns to him, still hissing, and slowly advances.

He closes his eyes. Waits for the inevitable. Sends a silent apology to his uncle.

Except… nothing happens.

He blinks his eyes open carefully, confused when he’s in his dark room. He sits up, looking around, grateful the moon is bright enough to light up his room enough for him to see.

He creeps out of bed, carefully opens his door, and looks around.

His eyes catch on the place he’d seen Steve dead, and it’s a dream, he knows it was, but he still feels-

He dials. Tries to keep breathing as the phone rings. “‘Lo?”

“Steve?”

“Eddie.” A yawn. “You alright, man?”

“Uh,” Eddie says, looking for the right words, but apparently Steve speaks Eddie.

“Am I going over there or are you coming over here?”

“N-no, you- you don’t have to-”

“Eddie. I don’t have to do anything. I’m doing this because I want to. Are you gonna be okay for fifteen minutes?”

“Define okay,” Eddie says, still unsure what words mean. What he’s saying.

“Okay, that’s a no. Eddie, I need you to take a couple of deep breaths for me, okay? I’ll do it too. Ready? We’re gonna breathe in… in… in… now hold it, two, three, four, now out… slowly… out… and hold. Two, three, four. Twice more, okay?”

He guides Eddie through the exercise, pausing when they finish. “How’re you feeling now?”

“Better,” Eddie agrees, sighing. “I’m sorry, man, you really don’t have to come over.”

Steve scoffs. “Unlock the door, Eddie, I’ll be there in fifteen, alright?”

“M’kay,” Eddie murmurs.

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Steve ends the call, and Eddie blinks as he puts the phone back on the hook. He moves to unlock the door then sits on the couch. He doesn’t look at the TV, doesn’t look at the spot on the floor where Steve-

He flinches, a full-body shudder, when the door opens. “Eddie?” Steve asks, locking eyes with him. “Hey, man, everything okay?”

He’s alive. He’s breathing, he’s moving, he’s-

Eddie reaches out for him, face shuddering, and Steve’s quick to respond, crossing the room in three long steps and throwing himself onto the couch next to Eddie, pulling him into a hug, and Eddie can breathe again.

“Fuck,” he mutters into Steve’s neck.

“Bad one, huh?”

He holds Steve tighter. “Dreamed… code red. No one answered. You- you came.” He swallows. “I saw-” he shakes his head, buries his face into Steve’s neck. “I know what it looks like when someone dies,” he whispers.

Steve stiffens, then relaxes and pulls Eddie even closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“I keep- seeing, you-”

“Hey.” Steve grabs his neck, makes him look at his face. “I’m right here, okay? Im right here. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both here, and we’re both alive.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, puts it on his chest, over his heart. “Feel that? Feel my heartbeat?”

Eddie looks down at his hand. Feels the rising and falling of his chest from breathing. Feels the steady thump-thump of his heart. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“I’m right here,” Steve promises, also whispering.

Eddie lets out a shaky sigh and rests his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

Steve rubs his back for a few minutes, then pulls back a little to ask, “Wanna try and go back to bed?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Okay. How about TV?”

“No.” His fingers clench, digging into Steve’s chest, and Steve’s hand comes up to cover his, to smooth it back out, to calm him down.

“That’s okay. How about we get something to drink?”

Eddie sighs, takes one deep breath, lets it out. “I’m a shit host,” he jokes. “You want somethin’?”

“I was thinking tea for you,” Steve replies, smile evident in his voice. “How about it? A nice cuppa?”

Eddie snorts and pulls away. “Alright then, mate,” he jokes, affecting a British accent, then back to his normal voice. “Long as you’ll join me.”

“Always,” Steve promises, and the monster growls.

Steve makes the tea. He won’t let Eddie help, but doesn’t oppose to him sitting on the counter and watching.

After they’re finished, Eddie dumps the mugs in the sink with a mental promise to get to them tomorrow. “Okay,” he says around a yawn, “your tea worked. I’m tired.”

Steve smiles. “Bed?”

“Bed,” Eddie agrees, pushing the monster in his chest down and taping its mouth shut. He only hesitates a little when he sees his bed, but climbs in anyways, holding the covers up for Steve.

They get settled, and before he knows it, Eddie’s drifting off.

He wakes up to sunlight on his face. He groans and rolls over, snorting and pushing back when he runs into Steve, who had already been awake. “Morning,” Steve offers.

Eddie plops his head back down and resolutely shuts his eyes.

“Or not,” Steve agrees, amused.

He’s about to speak, to wake up more, when Steve shifts and puts a hand in his hair.

He melts.

He thinks his brain might be melting out of his ears, all his thoughts leaking with it, because suddenly his head is blissfully blank.

He falls asleep again.

He wakes up as Steve settles back in bed next to him, glancing up with bleary eyes. He’s got a steaming mug in one hand, glancing down at Eddie with a smile. “Morning?”

Eddie hums out something that isn’t a word in any language. He blinks, long and slow, but he’s up. He tilts his head away from the pillow to speak. “Wha’s-” he squints at the mug. “Coffee?”

Steve smiles, grabs a second mug from the nightstand, hands it over. “Enough sugar to knock out the Duracell bunny,” he teases, and Eddie’s hard pressed not to blurt out a love confession right here and now.

Except… why not, he thinks. He promised Robin he would. And sure, it doesn’t have to be right this second, but… when else would he do it? He knows himself, he’d just chicken out.

He sits up, accepts the mug. Hums at the sweet taste. Gulps down half of it in the hopes of it waking him up faster.

Steve snorts. “You’re not gonna run out, Eds, there’s more in the pot and we can always make more.”

Eddie smiles sheepishly at Steve. “‘M tryin’a wake up faster.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “You don’t have to be up just because I am, dude.”

Eddie shakes his head, leans against the wall. Can’t look at Steve when he says, “No, I, uh. Actually wanted to talk to you?”

He can see, in his periphery, Steve turning to look at him. “About what?”

He works his lip, takes another sip. “About…” he sighs. “About what we’re doing. About how I don’t think we should.” He ducks his head. “I- I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s fine, I swear, I can get over myself. But I can’t if we keep doing this. ‘Cause I’m, like… stupidly gone on you, man. And I can’t- I can’t keep doing this.” He shuts his eyes. “I could, I could make myself, I could try to tune it out, I could- I could break my own heart. Which is exactly why I can’t.” He doesn’t know when his voice lowered into a whisper, but it did, and the last word comes out scared and breathy.

Steve takes a shaky breath. “You… like me?”

Eddie breathes in. Breathes out. Nods.

Steve swallows audibly, turns to face him. “How?”

He’s whispering, too, and Eddie looks up at him. Looks into honey-brown eyes, full of muted hope. “How do I like you?” Steve nods, and Eddie blows out a breath. “I like you… in the way I always want to make you laugh. In the way I want to always be there for you when you’re sad, or scared, or need help. In the way I want to know every piece of you so well I know how you’re feeling before you do. I want to make you dinner, and pull you close on the couch when we’re watching a movie, and wake up every morning to your face. I want to take you to Enzo’s and play footsie under the table with you until we’re both laughing way too hard and the waitress is staring at us because she just wants us to order. I want to scream it from the rooftops, even though I know I can’t. I want to hold your hand and run my fingers through your hair.”

“You want to keep me,” Steve whispers.

Eddie nods slowly. “Yeah. I want to keep you. I want you to be mine the way I’ve been yours.”

“I am yours,” Steve murmurs. “I want you to keep me.” He watches Eddie for a second. “You want to kiss me?”

Edie looks up at him. Slowly nods.

“Then do it,” Steve whispers in a hiss, and Eddie does.

And he does thoroughly.

“Mine,” he whispers against Steve’s lips.

Steve pulls back, takes his mug, puts it on the nightstand with his own. Turns back to Eddie, grabs his hand, lays his head on Eddie’s chest. “Yours,” he whispers, smiling when Eddie puts his other hand in his hair.

They don’t fall asleep. It’s a close thing, but they don’t have time before Steve has to get up for work.

He hesitates in the doorway. “Tonight,” he murmurs, then falls silent.

Eddie smiles at him. “Come over?”

Steve brightens, nods. The monster in Eddie’s chest purrs, satisfied.

[capybaramurdock]

♡ RED RING — Daredevil x Reader Series Masterlist ♡

Arranged marriage. Emotional tension. A slow burn set in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ Mature (eventual smut, angst, and canon-typical violence)

Summary:

Matt Murdock never believed in arranged marriages—until he agreed to one. To protect a women’s shelter and the woman who runs it, he strikes a dangerous deal with her father, a man whose morality is as murky as Hell’s Kitchen itself.

She’s softer than he expected. Kinder. And nothing like the family she comes from.

But Matt knows that in a world where nothing is truly free, even kindness can be a weapon.

She’s an enigma. A mystery wrapped in quiet warmth and hidden shadows.

Prefer to read on ao3? Available on there too! https://archiveofourown.org/works/64668514

Chapters:

♡ Chapter 1 — “The Scream in the Rain” (Matt’s POV - 25 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 2 — “The Man at the Door” (Reader POV – 25 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 3 — “The Offer” (Matt POV – 24 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 4 — “The Bargain” (Reader POV – 23 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 5 — “The Proposal” (Shared POV – 22 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 6 — “Through the Glass” (Matt POV – 21 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 7 — “The Bed and the Storm” (Reader POV – 20 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 8 — “The Guest List” (Shared POV – 19 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 9 — “The Doubt Creeps In” (Matt POV – 18 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 10 — “Paparazzi” (Reader POV – 17 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 11 — “The Church” (Matt POV – 16 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 12 — “The Weight of His Hands” (Shared POV – 15 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 13 — “The Dress that Doesn't Fit” (Reader POV – 14 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 14 — “The Menu and the Misunderstanding” (Matt POV – 13 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 15 — “The Cake and the Chase” (Shared POV – 12 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 16 — “The Interview Trap” (Matt POV – 11 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 17 — “The Late Night List” (Reader POV – 10 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 18 — “The Night It Cracks” (Shared POV – 9 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 19 — "The Tail" (Matt POV – 8 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 20 — “The Fallout” (Shared POV – 7 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 21 — “The Breaking Point” (Reader POV – 6 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 22 — “The Scripted Toast” (Shared POV – 5 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 23 — “The Photograph” (Shared POV – 4 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 24 — “The Reckoning” (Matt POV – 3 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 25 — “The Dress” (Shared POV – 2 Days Until the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 26 — “The Altar” (Shared POV – Day of the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 27 — “The Vow” (Shared POV – Day of the Wedding)

♡ Chapter 28 — “The Night That Was Theirs” (Shared POV – Night of the Wedding)

♡ Epilogue

[devondespresso]

Restless (Ed, go to fucking sleep)

G | 431 words | ao3 link | Steddie | no cw, just sleepy boys 💤💙

STWG Prompt: only one bed

Thanks to @tinytalkingtina for checking the clarity for me!! Graphics by @/saradika-graphics

The small bed shook again, the third time in the past minute. Few minutes. Steve had no fucking idea.

He breathed out deeply but quietly, trying to relax and keep his frustration discreet. Steve buried the side of his face further into his pillow, pressing into the fabric underneath him, wishing he could just be surrounded in the still, deafening softness.

The bed shook a fourth time, and the huff that escaped was neither relaxing nor discreet, so he went ahead and pushed up to flip himself around.

"Sorry..." Eddie muttered, sitting up a bit to flip his pillow. Again.

Steve settled down and squinted his eyes open towards him, trying to figure out what the hell Eddie kept struggling with.

Eddie flopped back down, arms crossed, the position he landed in looking comfortable enough. He held it for several seconds, long enough for Steve to think he was finally comfortable, until Eddie jerked them around again, straightening them out before folding them back.

"How's this 'sleepin like th' dead'?"

"Sorry, sorry, normally it's fine, I just... trying not to... make this weird..." Eddie said, stressing 'weird' like he wasn't himself.

"Ed, 's fine."

"Yeah. Yeah, just..." Eddie tucked his arms in awkwardly, crushing them under his torso in a way Steve's never seen him do before.

Eddie shoved an arm into a different, even more painfully uncomfortable looking spot, shaking the bed again.

"Ed, I swear to god–" Steve reached out and grabbed one hand, stopping Eddie in his tracks. Steve pulled it a little and Eddie got the message, unfolding his arms and letting them lay out in front of him.

Steve let go and dropped his arm wherever felt comfortable, then closed his eyes and exhaled into his pillow.

Eddie stayed for a second, then moved a little, though not as restless as before, the bed shifting, sinking differently ever so slightly.

Steve peeked his eyes open to find Eddie much closer to him, lying openly on his back with only one hand scrunched too close against his side, eyes wide open and trained on him.

"Is this oka–"

Steve hummed into his pillow, a tired agreement.

"'Kay..." Eddie muttered, barely there. Steve reached out again and grabbed his hand, gently pulling it out to hold it in the space between them, and again Eddie understood and followed his lead.

Eddie let out a breath, finally, as his hand let go of the tension and slotted more comfortably in Steve’s hold.

The bed stayed perfectly, blissfully still as both of them finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

[moon-language-0]

"If they're sleeping here, some of them are gonna have to double up..." "Yeah... that's not gonna sell."

'There Was Only One Bed' Stony AoU manip for through fire below, and fire above, and fire within by @fohatic

[kuzoowl]

Night in the city💫

[miss0atae]

You ask how deeply I love you And just how great my love is My affection is real And my love is true The moon represents my heart

English lyrics of The Moon Represents My Heart (月亮代表我的心) - Teresa Tang

All the time they slept together and how close they were.

[jomiddlemarch]

Five Times Aristocrats Shared a Bed and One Time They Didn’t*

(*where “they” have delusions of grandeur)

1.

“If it is your preference, I shall give you your privacy and I will seek your permission before entering your chamber,” Fitzwilliam said stiffly, reminding Elizabeth so much of the aloof stranger she’d first seen at a Meryton dance that she could not keep from laughing.

“Madam?” he asked, taken aback.

She had learnt him well enough to wait to speak until she’d laid her hand upon his chest, where he could not fail to see his ring upon her finger.

“I’ve never slept alone in my life and I shouldn’t like to start now,” she said. “I warn you and Jane will confirm it, my feet get cold but I despise bed-socks.”

“It will be my pleasure to keep you warm, Elizabeth,” he said.

2.

“I’ve made sure your suite was entirely redecorated, all in the loveliest shades of green and indigo, and I spoke with your housekeeper, to ensure your mattress here is just as you like it,” Emma said.

George raised an eyebrow in inquiry. It was quite the most devilish expression and she wished she were capable of matching it.

“You have already undertaken so much, leaving Donwell Abbey and coming to live at Hartfield, you deserved to have a place of your own, a retreat when you cannot bear another second of Papa’s exhortations about the risk of cold lettuce on a young man’s chest or my silly prattling,” she explained.

“Mrs. Knightley, what I cannot bear is to be apart from you at night,” he said, moving closer as he spoke. “To wake without you in my arms.”

“Well, you needn’t,” she said, while she could. 

She was not sorry when she couldn’t. Not one bit.

3.

“If you’d like, my dear, I’ll sleep in my dressing room,” Charles said. “I know aristocrats don’t share a bed. My parents did but of course, Father was in trade, for all that Caroline wants to pretend we’re the obscure cadet branch of some viscount from the North. I asked Darcy and he turned rather puce but he did say it was so—”

“We’re not aristocrats, Charles,” Jane replied.

“You’re a gentleman’s daughter, Jane, a lady to the very tips of your toes,” Charles replied.

“Whoever the Bingleys are, we’re only Charles and Jane here,” she said. “And whatever you consider the tips of my toes, I’m your wife first and last.”

“You’ll send me to my dressing room if I snore, though. You must promise me that, you’re too good a creature to complain about anything but I shan’t have you exhausted,” Charles said.

“If you snore, I promise, I’ll wake you,” Jane said.

She’d learnt quite quickly how her husband took his tea and how to lie to him.

4.

“When we choose an estate, I’ll make sure there’s a separate chamber for you, sweetheart,” Frederick said softly. “You’ll want that after being crammed into this crowded little cabin—”

“It’s snug,” Anne said, turning slightly so she might see his dear face better. The moonlight from the porthole took him from the epitome of a British sea-captain and changed him into a figure of romance or myth, a god all silver and shadow. “I shouldn’t like anything better than this, this perfect refuge that’s ours alone and the sound of the waves.”

“We’ll choose a place by the sea,” he said. “A house with a view, plenty of space, light and airy.”

“But I don’t care to sleep apart, no matter had bad Ton it is,” she said. “We were apart long enough.”

5.

“Don’t say we must be stuffy aristocrats about it and sleep in separate rooms and you’re to knock at my door and wait there in a banyan and slippers for me to bid you enter,” Marianne said in a rush, exhilarated by the fresh air, the vista before them, Colonel Brandon’s arm around her waist. He did not yet believe she was steady on her feet after her illness and she could not convince him otherwise, had she been inclined to try. “There is nothing romantic about that, nothing ravishing—”

“There will be ravishing, my dear,” he replied. “In one room, one bed, if that’s what you want.”

“I quite fancy the contrast, how splendidly massive Delaford is and then to imagine the two of us tucked away, almost in a garret,” she said dreamily.

“I draw the line at a garret,” he said. “And I do wear a banyan and slippers when it’s chilly.”

6.

“Some would say we’ve pretentions beyond our station, Mrs. Collins, yes, some would say that very thing, but for someone, if you will, attached to a lady as elevated as Lady Catherine de Bourgh, for a clergyman with refined taste and a sense of elegant delicacy derived from a close association with an aristocrat like her Ladyship, well, it hardly seems the argument that we’re aping our betters should be given the least credence,” Mr. Collins declared, speaking much as he would giving one of his sermons. Anything to do with Lady Catherine called for that tone of voice, a fact Charlotte had gleaned after three days in the vicarage.

“As you say, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte replied.

“It’s a squeeze, I’m quite aware of that, but I had the box room fitted out and the alcove in the larger room can serve as a dressing room, if it comes to it,” he said.

“I’ve no complaints, sir,” Charlotte replied. 

Indeed, her husband’s announcement that they would have separate sleeping chambers had made her nearly as happy as his offer to wed and might very well be her salvation.

Posted late for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month Day 21, prompt: aristocracy

[cupidford]

Nightjet by khorazir

Johnlock Love Letters #2353

Officially deceased and looking for the last remainders of Moriarty, Holmes boards a train in Germany and is forced to share a compartment with a stranger....what are the chance when it's Watson himself.

[deancaspinefest]

I built you a garden, don't you know? | G | 20,800 words

Author: karlo Artist: MercurialKitty

Dean felt like he died that day in the dungeon. Even after Cas came back, he still felt like a ghost haunting the bunker. So Dean drives and he drives. And then one day, he happens upon a run-down house for sale, and it just feels like a place he could belong. The air is fresh here, and there’s a back porch, like his parents’ old house had. He puts in an offer right then and there. The most important part is that Cas likes it, too, and suddenly there’s a garden and a beehive out back, and ugly linen curtains that Cas picked out, Dean isn’t saying anything, but it’s obvious. The house is too big for just one person.

Link to fic | Link to art

Pairings: Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen

Warnings: None apply

[dearrix]

"Satoru, I Understand"

Characters: Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto

Summary:

Satoru normally puts on a face of strength and calmness, not showing any real emotion besides joy. But today, Satoru seems distant, and distinctively different than usual. Of course, Suguru is there to pick up the pieces. As his best friend… obviously.

Word count: 3,933

Hurt/comfort, fluff, sharing a bed, unestablished relationship

Feedback welcome! Check out my AO3!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Satoru, do you want an egg in your bowl?” Geto asks. One hand stirs a pot of ramen while the other holds it in place.

There’s no response. Instead, Suguru is met with silence.

He stops and sighs as he lifts his head and turns to face Satoru. Who is, much to his surprise, not paying him any mind.

Suguru leans against the oven handle and raises an eyebrow as he looks Satoru over.

Satoru sits on the edge of the bed with his hands behind him. His shoes are off and the top of his jacket is unbuttoned. Strangely, that’s everything he’s done since he came home. He still has those bandages wrapped around his eyes: a new accessory that he usually removes around Suguru.

Suguru let himself in before Satoru arrived. After all, it was too boring being alone in his own dorm.

As he watches him, he realizes that Satoru hasn’t spoken a word besides a 'hello' when he opened the door a hour ago.

Suguru’s smile drops and settles into a look of concern. He feels his eyebrows inch downwards. He sets down the spoon in his hand, the motion makes an abrupt, metallic sound as it hits the counter.

How strange.

“Satoru?”

Suguru crosses his arms as he gazes at him.

Satoru shifts and leans forward. He rests his left elbow on his knee and uses it to prop his head up with his fingers on his temple. He responds in a small voice that is way too quiet for Satoru Gojo. “Please be quiet.”

Those words occasionally get thrown around by Satoru, however, they’re usually not pointed towards Suguru. Nor do they normally sound so powerless.

Some days are harder than others for Satoru. Sometimes, he slams Sugurus' door open and immediately collapses on the bed, not giving a damn if he’s busy. He then loudly complains about his head hurting, his eyes throbbing, his clothes being too tight, how long it’s been since he ate and that he’s oh so hungry for anything. Really. But only the stuff he likes, obviously, and then he unceremoniously knocks out before Suguru can even open his mouth to say hello.

But, even if today was one of those particularly harsh days, why was Satoru acting so weird?

Where was his loud and annoying, but still loving and adoring personality?

Satoru lets his guard down around Surguru nearly every time they’re together. He’s seen Satoru sick, exhausted, angry, anxious, and borderline depressed. So even though this situation is not exactly unprecedented, there’s one thing that throws him off: Out of all these vulnerable moments, Satoru has always, always removed his sunglasses, and as of late, those bandages. But today, he still has them on.

So what, is his head hurting? Are his eyes extra sensitive? If that’s the case, then the overhead light must make it worse.

Suguru turns around and twists the stove knob until it clicks and the flame dies. Then he quietly pads over to the nearby light switch and flicks it off, which surrounds them in complete darkness, except for a streak of moonlight that shines in from the window behind the bed.

As he drops his hand from the switch, he turns and stares.

The light frames Satoru’s back and it casts his front side in darkness. The silver outlines his shoulders, waist, and hair, where it blends in perfectly with the white strands.

Suguru’s hand settles at his side. It’s like every thing around them has been shut out. No curses, no missions, no surprises. Only Satoru on the bed and Suguru standing, watching from a distance.

For some reason, it feels like a large, gaping chasm has opened between the two. Three steps, maybe even five or six, and Suguru could cross it. Normally, one step is all it takes for the two to connect. But this time, it feels different, like a massive wolf closing in on a defenseless rabbit. One is strong and steady, and the other, who is normally just the same, if not even more, is delicate and frail, and is shutting itself off from the rest of its nest to not appear weak.

From the first moment Satoru introduced himself, it’s always been them. Together. Nothing more and nothing less. So of course Satoru would only allow Suguru in his vicinity when something is destroying his stability. If not him, then who else?

If that’s the case, then why has this feeling began to loom over him?

Generally, Satoru doesn’t talk about whatever happens to be bothering him that day. He just comes in and either sleeps or complains about his symptoms, but never the cause.

This moment feels fragile. Different from all the others. Like one wrong move or word could alter the air around them. Or maybe piss Satoru off. Which would definitely be bad.

Suguru exhales as quietly as humanly possible and takes a step towards the bed.

Shit. What if he does the wrong thing and pushes Satoru further into himself? Makes him feel backed into a corner?

This entire time, he hasn’t even thought of a single word to say. What is there to say? Nothing? Everything? Isn’t that still nothing?

It doesn’t matter. First, he has to make it there before anything can be done or said at all.

Suguru silently strides towards Satoru. He closes that gap with a false sense of confidence in the silence of the room. The only noise between the two are his quiet steps. He comes to a stop right in front of Satoru and looks down at him. He holds his breath and balls his hands into fists.

Then, he slowly bends down, with a totally fake expression of calmness.

He really, really hates those bandages. The glasses are fine, but he can’t even make eye contact with Satoru when he covers his eyes like this.

Is that the whole point of Satoru keeping them on right now?

To not even look in his direction?

Satoru remains eerily mute and motionless. His face is angled downward, and still leans against those long fingers.

Even right now, with his eyes locked behind that bandage, Suguru can still picture them. How stunning they are. Almost as if they’re right in front of him.

Heat fills Suguru's face and runs down his neck.

Almost as if his subconscious can tell that this is an important moment, his body feels detached from his mind.

Everything feels disconnected. Far away. Like they’re in an isolated bubble.

The room is quiet, save for their muted breaths. Outside, there's no noise, almost like every animal in the vicinity decided “Nope, not tonight”, and then made a run for it.

Out of every minute of every day, of every shared glance and stifled laugh, of every shoulder bump and hug, has it all come down to this? Satoru letting Suguru get this close, past all his barriers, just to untie those stupid fucking bandages?

Satoru is normally somewhat vulnerable around him when no one is watching. But what about when Suguru isn’t around? Is this what he does? How he handles situations like whatever happened today? Puts his bandages on and shuts the rest of the world out. Corners himself, like a rabbit hiding from predators?

Suguru feels a wave of annoyance wash over him. Damn it. Why is Satoru so stubborn to ask for help?

He kneels in front of Satoru and rests his balled-up fists on his thighs. He looks up at him.

Why does no one ever help him?

He hesitates before he raises his arms and wraps them around the back of Satoru’s head. He pauses, internally counts to three, and then gently unties the white bandages.

It doesn’t matter. If no one else will, then Suguru will.

...hasn’t he always?

As the blindfold falls, his breath promptly dies in his throat, like a fish thrown out of water.

Suguru immediately fixes on Satoru’s face and jumps to his eyes.

That beautiful bright blue makes the oceans look shameful. Nothing can compare. Even now, after so much time together, it still knocks the very breath out of Suguru.

Satoru’s eyes are open, they're bloodshot and tinged red. Tear streaks line his cheeks. Against his blue irises, they look like extensions of the sky, like raindrops that carves their path through the clouds. More tears build, the clear liquid adding a glossy sheen.

Even with the moonlight behind him, his eyes are still the brightest thing in the room.

Satoru avoids making eye contact with Suguru. Instead he settles on something in the distance. He’s looking to the right, just past him.

Suguru’s mouth falls open and his brows furrow. A low grunt escapes from his lips.

What the hell happened?

His right-hand drops the bandages on the floor before he gently rests this palm on the side of Satoru’s head. His thumb sits against his temple.

Out of all the countless battles and the endless hours they’ve known each other, Satoru has never once cried.

Suguru moves his thumb from Satoru’s temple and instead places it above his brow bone, using all his power to caress there as gently as possible.

He decided a long time ago, probably millennia at this point, that the last thing Satoru needs is someone treating him harshly without care. Even now, even though Suguru is thoroughly confused, he tries to touch Satoru like he's something precious, something infinitely more revered than even the most treasured valuables, and as someone that is truly irreplaceable, in both mind and soul.

Satoru languidly moves his eyes until he nearly looks back at Suguru. Exhaustion pulls at the corners and dark shadows lay underneath. He’s moving lazily, like it’s taking every ounce of his energy to will himself to do anything at all.

Suguru feels his heart crack at every movement.

His stomach sinks. He feels his heart squeeze, physically squeeze, and the only thing he can focus on is Satoru's red eyes, on his tears, on his quietness. There's nothing in those eyes, that spark is gone. Satoru...

Impotency tears through his chest and sticks its dirty fingers right into his soul.

Is this what it feels like to want to so desperately reach out to someone, to touch them and take away all their sadness, to devour their misery and make it your own? To connect and erase their stress, sadness, and trauma, but feeling completely locked out, feeling incapable, and incompetent?

Suguru would do anything to put back the light that's missing from Satoru.

To yearn in selfish melancholy, wistfully praying they give you the chance to act only in selflessness.

Suguru’s hands begin to shake, his body following not long after, and almost as if his eyes decide to give away what his voice cannot, what he so desperately wants to stop, a thin layer of tears begins to coat them and slip down his face.

Satoru is right in front of him yet he cannot stop him from crying. He can do anything but stare at him. He so desperately wants to help, erase whatever caused all of this, but how can he do that if Satoru won’t even make eye contact with him?

Satoru.

Satoru.

Please, look at me.

Suguru pulls in a shaky breath.

"Satoru-"

As soon as those bright blue eyes look back at him, his breath dies in his throat.

Before he could even consider what to say next, Satoru throws himself, or maybe just collapses, against Suguru’s chest. He wraps his arms around his back and grips Suguru’s shirt so tight he’s pretty sure it’s going to rip.

“It’s okay, Satoru,” Suguru says, his voice cracks, the tears in his eyes fall quickly. His body finally relaxes. One hand flies to cup Satoru’s head and his other goes to rest on his back. His hand runs through the soft strands that sit right beneath his fingertips, and the other presses Satoru against him tightly.

Despite all of his tears, not a single sound has come out of Satoru’s mouth. Hell, he wouldn’t even be able to tell that Satoru’s crying except for the feel of his ragged breaths shaking his entire body.

Even with everything they’ve been through together, this is something that is completely unknown territory to Suguru. Sure, yeah, he’s hugged Satoru before, but it has never been like this.

After every mission where they both get beat and bruised, he helps Satoru walk by letting him lean against his shoulder. After every bloodbath they endure, he takes a washcloth and wipes away the blood splattering Satoru’s face and body. After every fight where Satoru gets countless cuts and gashes, he helps Satoru clean and bandage them, and sews them back together if the infirmary is closed and Shoko isn't around. After all of that, Suguru will pull Satoru into a hug. Sometimes, Satoru will make the move first, even after the worst fights. Actually, especially after the worst fights. It’s their way of saying, “Hey, I’m glad you’re alive. Stay that way, okay?”

Whatever this is, Suguru can’t just sew it up or wipe it away. The best he can do, at least right now, is hold Satoru as tight as physically possible and never let him out of his sight again.

As he holds Satoru, his eyes drift to the window. The moon illuminates everything and covers it all in a blanket of silver. It makes the world look ethereal.

The damp tracks on Suguru's face begin to chill as the cool air hits him.

Outside, it’s so peaceful. But inside, Suguru feels tiny needles poke into his heart at the sound of Satoru quietly beginning to sob.

He moves his hand from the back of Satoru’s head and instead goes to the front. He rakes his fingers through his hair and stops at the crown before he restarts. He pulls Satoru against him tighter, the boy practically sits in his lap while one leg lies on the ground behind Suguru's back and the other props up with a bent knee.

Suguru's legs begin to ache from the pressure pushing down on them. The kneeling makes his legs nearly bend in half.

“Satoru, please,�� Suguru mutters. What is he even asking for? For the tears to stop, for him to tell Suguru what’s wrong? For them to stay like this a little longer, maybe even forever, but only if Satoru can be happy, and look at him with those eyes again?

There is no reply. Only those quiet, gut-wrenching cries.

Satoru presses his face into Suguru's shoulder, the wetness from his tears soaks through the fabric and nearly makes contact with Suguru's skin.

Suguru moves his hand from Satoru’s hair and instead settles it at the small of his back where his thumb rubs in comforting circles.

Suguru feels his lungs fill as he breathes in the dry air with slow, deep breaths. His hold on Satoru doesn’t falter, not even once.

As they sit there, time passes slowly.

Gradually, the broken sobs die down, until there is nothing left but Satoru’s ragged breaths and a damp spot on Suguru's shirt.

At least an hour has passed. Maybe more.

“Satoru, are you there?” Suguru asks, his voice barely audible even to himself.

“Mn.”

Suguru physically feels his eyebrows relax and the air push out of his lungs. Finally, there’s a response. His hands relax against Satoru’s back and his knees give away... just a little.

“Alright.” Suguru softly says.

After a beat, Suguru wraps both his arms around Satoru’s lower back, before he leans forward and pushes himself up with his feet. Satoru wraps around him like a koala on a branch.

Suguru's legs had fallen asleep a while ago, and the pricks of numbness had become almost unbearable. At the sudden movement blood immediately rushes into his legs.

Suguru grunts quietly at the discomfort before he waddles to the bed.

Satoru is heavier than he looks.

With one hand still supporting Satoru, he moves the other to pull down the blanket.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asks, his voice comes out right beside Suguru’s ear. It sounds rough and dull, the usual spark is gone.

Suguru’s hand pauses on the blanket before he responds.

“I’m fixing the bed for you.”

After a second ticks by, Suguru continues his attempts to prepare the bed. The hand that rests on Satoru’s back twitches momentarily, before Suguru thinks, 'fuck it', and pulls him closer.

A moment passes.

“Why?”

Huh?

Suguru stills, his brain struggles really hard to come up with an answer.

What do you mean why? To lay down. Dummy.

But for some reason, that doesn’t feel good enough.

Satoru abruptly pushes himself off of Suguru and comes to a stand right in front of him. The back of his legs press against the bed.

Suguru looks him over.

Satoru’s hair is a mess. Some strands press against his forehead, some others stick up in odd places, and the rest is nothing but tangles.

His fingers twitch.

There are no longer tears in his eyes, but they are more red than before. The color seems to bleed into the skin around them, and is brought out even more by the wetness left over from the tears smudged around his eyes. He looks flushed, exhausted, and in desperate need of a good nap and a good meal.

Which is what Suguru was attempting to do earlier.

Sleep would do him some good. But Suguru hears this little, saggy thought in the back of his head: will he be okay alone? Or will it be like earlier, but this time, without Suguru there to keep him company?

Why is everything always so complicated? And why is Satoru looking at him with that grouchy ass expression?

Suguru tilts his head and asks, “What’re you doing? I was just trying to fix it so you could get some rest. That’s all.”

“I don’t need rest,” Satoru says, with a hint of sarcasm.

Normally Suguru would laugh, but today, he can’t brush everything that happened off and pretend like it’s all normal. And quite honestly, he’s not in the mood for Satoru's attempts at avoidance. There are two options here: he tells Suguru what’s wrong tonight, or he goes to sleep and tells him tomorrow. Either way, he’s not getting out of it.

Suguru sighs and squeezes his eyes shut before he snaps them back open. He looks at the bright green light from the clock on the nightstand.

“Satoru, it’s 1 in the morning-“

“Stay with me.”

Suguru’s eyes open wide, his lips part, he feels his stomach twist around itself.

“What?” He asks. His voice is a little louder than he intended.

“I said, stay with me. What, are you hard of hearing now?” Satoru repeats and his eyes narrow before he turns around towards the bed.

He pulls back the rest of the covers before he slips under them. He leaves one side of the small twin-size bed open.

Suguru does nothing but stare. His ears and cheeks are on fire.

“Get in bed, Suguru,” Satoru says before he flips over to where his back faces him.

They’ve done a lot together, have nearly died together and have survived together, but they have absolutely, definitely, never shared a bed together.

Satoru already threw himself onto Suguru’s lap and cried on his shoulder. At this point, laying together is nothing, and if it’ll help Satoru feel better, then how could he say no?

Suguru's stomach flips, again, and his clothes feel too tight but at the same time not close enough. For once in a very long time, he is completely unsure of what choice to make.

Lay down in the bed, or run out the door?

Suguru closes his eyes and his cheeks scrunch up.

If he gets in that bed, what will change? Physical barriers will be practically non-existent. And, what does this mean for Satoru? Normally, he is very particular about his personal space. The closest anyone has ever got is Suguru, and the closest he’s ever been is tonight. Before that, it was short-lived hugs, shoulder bumps while walking, and Satoru laying his head on his shoulder. But something like this?

... it wasn't exactly in Suguru's bingo card.

But... If this is what he needs from Suguru right now, then damn it all, Suguru will get in that stupid fucking bed.

Suguru opens his eyes and bends down to pull off his shoes. His hands shake as he unties the knots and tries to rip them off of him as soon as possible. Then, he goes to unbutton the top of his jacket, but his fingers struggle to latch on. His nails scrape against the cold metal of the bottom until finally it opens with an audible snap.

He exhales and forces himself to walk towards the bed.

Okay. Okay. Whatever. He’s only doing this because Satoru asked. After crying for an hour on his shoulder. While sitting in his lap. And nearly ripping off the back of his shirt. At this point, it’s nothing, it means nothing, he’s just being a good friend, a good best friend, and that’s it and that’s all. It’s not a big deal to Satoru. So it shouldn’t be a big deal to Suguru.

When his leg touches the edge of the bed, his heart picks up even more. Blood flows into his ears. His head starts up with a buzz. He stares at Satoru, at the messy white hair that splays out across the pillow, at the long legs that's beneath the blanket. He imagines what those beautiful eyes would look like so close beside him.

Suguru looks for a moment more before he reaches around and yanks out the hair tie that holds his hair up. He sits it on the bedside table. His fingers click against the table top.

He pulls up the blanket and slides under it until his legs tap against Satoru’s. Oh god. His chest aches, it hurts, he wants to be closer.

They can barely fit on the bed. Satoru’s back presses against Suguru’s arm, and the spot where they’re connected is red hot. The touch burns Suguru’s skin.

Suguru closes his eyes and attempts to force himself to sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru says, in a light and quiet voice.

“Satoru, you didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no reason to apologize to me.” Suguru says, his voice gentle and calm. Slowly, Satoru begins again, like he didn't even hear Suguru.

“Today, earlier this evening, I was sent to Tokyo to deal with some low level curse. It was easy, the thing was embarrassingly weak. It was terrorizing a village and I fought it on the outskirts. But then I went inside the village,” Satoru pauses, he inhales, “And everyone was slaughtered. There was blood everywhere, it looked like they were slowly torn apart.”

Suguru opens his eyes and turns his head towards him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Satoru.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault, but, even though I know that… I can’t shake the feeling that I still should’ve known. The days before, when they were getting tortured and murdered, I was training, I was walking around Shibuya eating sweets, joking around while entire families were getting destroyed.”

Satoru flips his body around, his face right beside Suguru’s, his eyes stare back at him. Beautiful.

“Those people, they lost everything, some of them probably watched their children or partner die right in front of them. I realized, the only person I have to watch that happen to, is you. What if for some reason I couldn’t protect you? If I was too late, and I opened the door to your cold body? I was scared. Of that ever happening to you. Of me being too weak to protect you. That’s why I was upset and trying to avoid you seeing me be so pathetic. I’ve never felt pure fear before in my life. Until that moment.”

Suguru doesn’t say anything for a long time. Instead, he just keeps looking at Satoru, he is finally able to breathe slow, but still, his hands tremble, and his heart pounds in time with his head.

“Suguru, I’m sorry for being so selfish, but I just can’t imagine what my life would be like if you were ever gone. I refuse.”

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat, and he reaches out for Satoru, he tries to grab whatever he can, because he needs to feel, he needs to see, he needs to know.

Satoru meets him halfway and interlocks their fingers. He squeezes them together tightly.

“Satoru,”

“Yeah?”

“I understand.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[emi-gelfling]

They're in love, your honor 💕

LINK TO "The Last In Line:"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48070219/chapters/121210213