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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

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In The Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard

I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

Word Count: 1,110

Masterlist

AO3

He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.

You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.

He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.

It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.

And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.

Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.

Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.

You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.

Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.

You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.

Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.

“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”

His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.

“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”

Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.

The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.

For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.

Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.

“I love you.”

His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.

“I love you, too, darling.”

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hoodie-buck · 11 months

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army!eddie/babysitter/buck au has arrived y’all!! this is my baby, my absolute pride and joy, and i’m so happy to finally share with y’all 🥹 hope you enjoy <33

rated: e | chapter 1/10 | words: 5.7k | read on ao3

summary:

“Does this story have a point?” Eddie questioned, Lena narrowing her eyes at him; it would’ve felt threatening had he not known she was more bark than bite.

“This guy, my sort of friend—what if he could watch Chris for you?”

Eddie furrowed his brows together. “You want me to leave my kid who’s halfway across the country with some—stranger?” Was she out of her damn mind?

“It beats having him sent home to your parents, right?”

Well, she had a point there.

Eddie shook his head, overwhelmed with his thoughts.

“Look, I appreciate it Bosko, but I just—I don’t know. This is my kid we’re talking about.”

“I know that, and I know how much you love him. Hell, you’ve sent me ten plus emails when I was watching him for you.”

Eddie looked to where there was a line coming out of the office, his other teammates no doubt having several emergency questions of their own. He turned to Lena, giving his full attention.

“Alright, tell me about this friend of yours.”

—or—

The one where Eddie’s in the army, Shannon gives up her rights to Chris, and Eddie needs a babysitter. Good thing Lena knows Buck, the guy having nothing better to do than help babysit until Eddie gets back. Eddie would come home, and he would leave; it wasn’t like they were going to build some lifetime friendship or anything.

**if you wanna be tagged in chapter updates lmk, otherwise i’ll just tag everyone again once it’s finished posting <33**

tagging squad below, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

tags: @heartbeatdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @confetti-cupcake @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @swiftiebuckleyhan @loveyourownsmiilee @justsmilestuffhappens @dorkydiaz @honestlydarkprincess @zainclaw @eddiescowboy @djdangerlove @bifirefighters @mr-and-mr-diaz @buddierights @crazyfangirlallert @monsterrae1 @wh0re-behavi0r @panicatthediaz @jacksadventuresinwriting @stanningsky @buckaroo118 @angelwiththeblue-box @spotsandsocks @elvensorceress @alyxmastershipper @buddiearemydads

#buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #christopher diaz #lena bosko #911 fox #army!eddie/babysitter!buck au #multi chap #heavy angst #angst with a happy ending #tenderness #slow burn #literal sleeping together #long distance relationship #idiots in love #kel(s) writing

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neontoad · 3 months

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“One soul in two bodies”, people often say about Double Black. Chuuya calls bullshit on that. It’s ridiculous. But then why every time Chuuya comes to work after tossing and turning in bed all night unable to fall asleep, he sees that Dazai has dark circles under eyes as well? Why every time when Chuuya checks his phone at 3am, insomnia eating him alive, he sees that Dazai is online, too? Why does it feel like there is one more person wide awake in the sleeping city when Chuuya’s staring at the ceiling, as wakeful as ever?

One night, a message pops up on his phone.

🐟: You awake?

“Fuck off,” Chuuya mumbles to himself and turns the screen off. The night is quiet. The air still seems to be vibrating after the notification chime. He counts seconds.

Nothing disturbs the silence anymore.

The next day Dazai keeps yawning and stealing glances at Chuuya as they sit in another boring meeting. He ignores him, even though every time Dazai covers his mouth with his hand, Chuuya can’t help but yawn too.

He sleeps well that night. He knows Dazai does, too - he can tell by how stupidly annoying he is the next day. Chuuya knows well that only well-rested Dazai possesses such a ridiculous ability to get on Chuuya’s nerves in record time. He sleeps okay again. And again. And again. Chuuya even starts thinking that maybe he’s finally out of that cursed bout of insomnia. Seems like Dazai managed to get some sleep, too.

Until another night comes.

He’s exhausted - they have just finished a mission, the last one in a strenuous sequence, and the only thing Chuuya wants is to sleep until next week.

He can’t.

His phone chimes.

He doesn’t bother looking - he knows who’s texting him. Dazai’s insomnia is not his problem.

He lies with his eyes closed, hoping that maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to trick his brain into finally shutting down and letting him fall into Morpheus’ embrace, giving him the rest he so desperately needs. He doesn’t know how much time passes until he hears a knock.

“The fuck you want?” Chuuya grumbles, looking at Dazai miserably standing in the hallway of his apartment building.

“Just checking on my dear partner.”

“It’s 4 in the morning.”

“You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“I was sleeping, you bastard.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Dazai yawns and Chuuya follows suit, stretching his sore muscles. Fuck this, he thinks. I’ll let him be. Without saying a word, he turns on his heel and marches to the kitchen. Dazai follows him and plops on the stool. He probably thinks he looks smug. He looks like shit.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” he croaks and smiles.

“Fuck off,” Chuuya says, pouring Dazai three fingers and sliding it across the table before stopping in front of his wine cabinet. That’ll do, he thinks and pours himself a glass of red.

“You know, chibi,” Dazai muses, watching the ice in his glass bob up and down, “I blame you.”

Chuuya takes a sip of wine. He wonders if he looks as stern as he hopes he is. Or does he, akin to Dazai, resemble a miserable stray dog? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

“Whenever you can’t sleep, neither can I,” he continues. “It’s like we have some kind of invisible bond.”

Despite his fatigue, Chuuya can’t help but chuckle. Invisible bond! Dazai sure loves these stupid pretentious speeches. What an emo.

He downs his wine and goes to the living room. “Take your ass with your invisible bond to the couch,” he commands. “Let’s play.”

“It’s not a laughing matter!” Dazai whines but obeys, finishing his whiskey and leaving the cup on the table like the ungrateful pig he is.

Whiskey made him feel warm and fuzzy, making the unwelcoming sleepless night feel slightly less dire. Besides, playing video games with the slug is certainly a better pastime than tossing and turning on his old mattress. They play for a few hours, sleepiness going away as they keep beating each other in a video game, pushing each other with their shoulders and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Chuuya doesn’t care about his neighbours complaining - there’s no one living above him anymore, anyway.

The dark night gives way to the pale morning, timid rays of sun sneaking through the closed blinds. A ray falls on the empty whiskey cup, the last drops of the amber liquid shining like gold under the light. Another one shines on the shattered controller lying in the corner. Another ray of sun caresses the leaves of a half-dead plant on the bookshelf. Another - the picture on the wall, the five people on it forgotten by all but one. Another - the cobweb on the ceiling. Another - the brass door handle. As more time passes, the sun gets more comfortable dancing in the small apartment, its rays travelling across the walls, trinkets and furniture until they reach the boys sprawled on the couch.

Their breath is even, chests rising and falling in unison. Chuuya’s head is resting on Dazai’s lap, his hand against his chest still holding the beaten controller. He squirms when the sun shamelessly goes across his eyes but doesn’t wake up.

Neither does Dazai. He just smiles through his sleep and puts his hand on Chuuya’s back. The rays of sun stall before continuing to move across the room as if taking in the unusual, eerily peaceful atmosphere in the living room, the raging fire turned into quiet embers for a bit.

Chuuya might call bullshit on the “one soul in two bodies” idea.

But… the sun surely knows better.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #skk #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #soukoku #mini fic #teen skk #pm skk #literal sleeping together #soft skk #developing relationship

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hazbinficsandstuff-eyeshadow · 26 days

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#literal sleeping together #fanart #hazbin hotel #huskerdust #i dont know what this is i jsut felt like pitting some images

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awhitehead17 · 2 months

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Battling Nightmares

TimKon, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff, Cuddles, Idiots in love, Literal Sleeping together.

A/N: This has been inspired by this post from @timdrakebrainworms I read it and wanted to put it into a story, I hope they don't mind!

Enjoy! :D

Blinking into the darkness, Kon frowns and wonders what’s going on. As his mind is fogged up with sleep, nothing registers for a long moment. The clock on his bedside table tells him it’s two in the morning, and considering how tired Kon has been recently he’s confused to what could have woken him up at such an hour.

A soft sound reaches his ears, and while it’s tempting to fall back to sleep, he wouldn’t have woken up without a reason and going back to sleep wasn't an option until he worked out what was wrong. He props himself up on his arms and glances around the dark room, finding nothing amiss he stares into the darkness, perhaps if he concentrates he’ll be able to hear that sound again.

The sound comes again and this time Kon catches it. It’s a soft whisper coming from outside his bedroom. It was so soft that even with his super hearing Kon would’ve had trouble picking up on it, however because Kon’s so tuned in on the person whose whisper it was, he’s not surprised he heard it.

Without thinking Kon jumps out of bed and rushes across the room to the door, any lingering sleepiness is now gone and has been replaced by worry and adrenaline. He throws open his door and darts across the hall straight into the opposite room. He slows down enough to shut the door and immediately heads to the bed where his best friend sits hunched over hugging his knees to his chest with his head ducked down resting on them.

Crouching down by the mattress Kon sighs softly, his heart feels heavy inside his chest as he looks at Tim. This isn’t new. The nightmares. Every night without fail for the last two weeks Tim’s woken up during the night due to the terrors that haunt his sleeping mind.

At the end of the first week it got bad enough to the point where Tim refused to even go to bed, and then continued to refuse for nearly four days. It took Kon, Dick, Bruce and even Ma Kent - not mentioning his complete exhaustion – to convince Tim to go to bed and sleep.

For the last week, Kon coming to Tim after he wakes from a nightmare has become routine. Once Kon drilled it into Tim’s head that he wanted Tim to call out for him when he woke, Tim had done so and each and every time Kon’s been willing to comfort his best friend after the ordeal.

Tonight is no different.

“Tim.” Kon calls out softly. He doesn't want to accidently startle Tim, that never ends well. “Hey it’s okay, I’m here. I heard you.”

“Kon.” Tim’s voice comes out muffled from where his face is buried in his knees.

Now knowing Tim’s acknowledged his presence, he gently grasps his leg. “Yeah I’m here. What do you need?”

Over the last week Kon’s come to learn Tim wants different things depending on how he’s feeling after waking up. Sometimes it’s cuddles, he just wants a solid hold around him and someone by his side as he recovers. Sometimes it’s no touch at all and just quiet company in the room. Other times he wants to be distracted and they end up playing video games or watching a film.

“Cuddles.”

Kon nods and starts getting situated on Tim’s bed next to him. Stretching out and getting comfortable, Kon reaches over and pulls Tim into his side, he sweeps his hand up and down Tim’s back in a motion of comfort. His best friend stays curled up but he leans into Kon. He knows from experience it’ll take some time for Tim to calm down and relax against him.

As time goes by, Tim slowly relaxes. It’s surprisingly comfortable to hold Tim against him, Kon wishes it was different circumstances and hates how Tim is constantly plagued by nightmares after what had happened weeks ago.

Once Tim is relaxed against him, stretched out with his arms wrapped around Kon’s waist and his head resting on Kon’s shoulder, Kon breaks the silence between them, “how are you feeling? Would you like to talk about it?”

Again these questions are part of the routine and often have different answers. Sometimes Tim will speak up about it, other times he won’t.

This time Tim doesn’t want to. He shakes his head and lets out a long resigned sigh. Kon accepts the answer, forcing Tim to talk won’t achieve anything other than aggression of some sort, and ducks his head to press a kiss to Tim's hair.

“Okay. Do you want to try and go back to sleep, it’s still early.”

Tim groans, “I don’t think I can.”

Kon smiles weakly at the almost whine. Under different circumstances it would have been both adorable and amusing. Using one hand he strokes his fingers through Tim’s hair, the other now stays still on Tim’s back keeping him pressed close to Kon.

“Well, I think you can. I’m here now, I’ll keep the nightmares away.”

“Gonna fight them off like you do bad guys and robots?” Tim asks, his tone now lightening up.

Kon gives Tim a squeeze. “Yup. They aren’t getting past me!”

Tim snorts and smacks Kon at the ridiculousness of it. As laughable as the concept may be Kon managed to lighten Tim’s mood – even if only for a moment – so he’ll take it.

Tim sighs and settles against Kon again and Kon mimics the action and relaxes deeper into the mattress beneath him. He presses another kiss to Tim’s head and readjusts the covers around them. “C’mon, we can get another hour or two before dawn breaks.”

Kon’s promise reins true as Tim doesn't have another nightmare that night. They wake up together and Kon checks in with Tim, they talk for an hour before emerging from the bedroom to join their teammates for breakfast. No one comments on how they come out of the room looking suggestively sleep rumpled, like everything else about the situation it’s become normal for Kon to stay in Tim’s room when he has a nightmare, the rest of the team are use to it by now.

That night Kon tries something different. After Tim calls it a night, looking displeased with the decision, Kon decides to follow him. He says his goodnights to the team who all weirdly roll their eyes at him, and heads for his bedroom. He goes through his nightly routine however instead of getting into his own bed he traipses across the hall and enters Tim’s room.

Standing in the middle of the room Kon finds Tim scowling at the bed, clearly unhappy about going to sleep. After a moment of no movement Kon speaks up, grinning at the way Tim startles. “Are you planning to sleep standing up or are you going to use the bed?”

Tim glares at him for a second before dropping the look. He runs a hand through his hair and looks despondent. “I hate this,” Tim says, “just knowing I’ll wake up in a few hours terrified out of my mind. Finding myself again completely at mercy-”

Before he could say anything more Kon steps up to him and puts his hands firmly on Tim’s shoulders. “Hey. If you keep thinking about it before you go to sleep it’s all your mind will focus on. I know it’s hard but things will get better, they’ll stop soon.”

Tim shakes his head and Kon’s heart breaks at the expression on his face. Kon pulls Tim in for a tight hug. “I was thinking what if I joined you in bed now? We can sleep together and I can keep my promise of fighting the nightmares away. Only if you want too of course.”

Pulling out of the hug Tim looks uncertain. “Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you awake all night with my tossing and turning.”

Kon rolls his eyes and pushes Tim to the bed, he forces him under the covers and quickly joins him. “Dude, you say that like I’ve never slept next to you before. We’ve been doing an awful lot of bed sharing these last couple of weeks. I’ll be fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Tim stares at him for a moment before nodding accepting it. He smiles shyly. “Thanks. I do actually sleep better next to you.”

Unable to help himself Kon presses a kiss to his hair before moving to turn off the bedside lamp. The room plunges into darkness and Kon gathers Tim close as they both settle down for the night.

It becomes a thing. In the weeks following, Kon now spends the entire night with Tim instead of just half when Tim calls out for him. Unfortunately Kon loses some battles against the nightmares because Tim still has them even when sleeping next to Kon, but his presence undeniably helps.

Whenever they’re at the tower, at the manor or at the farm they just share a bed. It feels so natural to sleep together now, it doesn't even occur to them anymore to not share a bed. The only time they sleep apart is they’re in separate locations or on missions.

Two months after the ordeal Tim’s nightmares have mostly come to a stop, they still occur maybe once a week or in ten days if he’s lucky. Even after the nightmares stopped they continued bed sharing, again because it felt right and comfortable to do so.

Three months after the ordeal Kon and Tim officially get together as a couple in a romantic relationship. In the months they have been bed sharing, Kon’s gotten to know Tim in a completely new way which is saying something considering how well he knew Tim before everything happened.

He had always felt deeper affection for Tim with him being his best friend, but in the nights he spent lying next to the guy, Kon discovered the affection ran much deeper than he realised, and most definitely in a different way. It turns out his feelings were reciprocated.

After a particularly bad night Tim ended up confessing his feelings for Kon, at first Kon hadn’t believed him, thinking it was stress and an emotional release from the nightmare, however the following day Tim made it perfectly clear it wasn't a false confession. From there they went from best friends to boyfriends. A rather incredible upgrade Kon would say.

They kept quiet about their relationship for a little while before announcing it to the team. It wasn’t so much they were worried about what their friends would think but rather they wanted to explore the romantic side of their relationship before sharing it.

When they announced it to the team, with everyone gathered in the media room, everyone ended up with a confused expression on their face. It turns out they were confused for a different reason than what he and Tim were expecting.

“You’re saying you only got together a couple weeks ago?” Cassie stares mystified at them like they had grown another head each.

Kon shares a look with Tim. “Uh yeah… what do you… this is not the reaction I was expecting.”

“So you guys haven’t been dating for years! You’ve only just got together?”

Tim gawks at her. “Wait what? What do you mean?”

“Dudes,” Bart drawls at them while munching on pretzels, “we all thought you were already dating! And had been dating for years! We figured you didn’t want any fuss about coming out so you just didn’t.”

Both Kon and Tim were shocked into silence by that little revelation.

“Kon is so touchy feely with Tim unlike anyone else, ever, and Tim the prickly cactus he is, allows it all to happen.” Bart carries on talking.

Cassie jumps in with her own comment. “Don’t forget about all the bed sharing and cuddling. Like none of that is platonic. Granted we never heard you guys going at it, we just thought you were incredibly discrete, or it’s because of Tim’s insane soundproofing he has.”

Kon feels his face heat up and when he glances at Tim he finds his boyfriend impersonating a tomato rather accurately.

“Well we weren’t dating,” Kon tells him unable to meet anyone’s eyes, “but now we are. So…” he waves a hand around as his sentence trails off. He doesn’t know what to do with this situation anymore and would rather it end.

Thankfully Vic becomes his saviour because he calls out, “now the oblivious lovebirds are done, are we doing this or what?”

That breaks the room up and everyone settles down to watch the screen. Kon lets out a breath and turns to find Tim staring at him, looking embarrassed but relieved. He smiles at Kon and Kon’s instant reaction is to smile back.

“Oi!”

The shouts makes them both jump and it’s only then Kon realises they had been staring at one another like lovestruck fools.

“If you’re gonna make out you have bedrooms for that particular activity, otherwise sit your asses down and enjoy the movie.”

While making out with Tim sounds awesome, and hot as hell, he takes Tim’s hand and guides him to a free space on the couch where they settle down together and get involved with the team bonding. No one cares they’re together romantically and Kon is pleased to continue going forward surrounded by his friends and with an amazing, strong, boyfriend at his side.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #nightmares #hurt and comfort #literal sleeping together #fluff #fanfiction #idiots in love #teen titans #dc comics #inspired by post #getting together #yet no one is surprised #cuddles

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alleiwentcrazy · 1 year

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Eddie Munson finds great joy in collecting strays. That’s obvious.

With people, it’s quite pronounced. He treats the word “freak” like an acclaimed royal title, not some low insult. Eddie loves his freaks – he treats them with care, understanding and unmistakable devotion, always offering some sort of safe haven and an outlet for both their sadness and glee. Everyone who knows Eddie knows that.

It’s a bit less pronounced with other creatures. Although Eddie’s adventures with wild, sometimes even feral (or simply interdimensional) animals still present a sore spot for him, he’s never stopped caring about them and trusting them. Eddie has a whole clowder of half-domesticated cats wandering around the fields behind his trailer at all times, because he can’t seem to accept the fact that it’s impossible to efficiently help each and every one of them just like that. Sometimes their constant presence, walls-scratching and low mewling spawns some unwanted pictures and dreams in Eddie’s head, but he will never admit to that.

What’s even less obvious—even to Eddie himself, it seems—is that his relationship with all kinds of strays is, more or less, a two-way street.

Eddie takes after his strays more than he’s aware of. For example, he’s just a little more sarcastic when he’s back from hanging out with Max. He’s a little more excited about basketball when he picks up Lucas after his practice, even though he considers himself a sports’ sworn enemy. He’s a little more tentative and reflective when he gives El some advice about regrowing her hair, because he’s well-versed with how much of a pain in the ass it can be. And so on, and so forth.

It’s the same with his cats. He takes after them a lot.

Usually, it’s Steve who notices it first. He’s also the one who falls victim to Eddie’s cat-like habits.

The first time it happens, they’re “studying” for Eddie’s exams. He’s been forced to retake his senior year once again, but this time he’s doing everything in his power to get through it unscathed. Usually Nancy plays the role of his tutor, but Steve takes over when she can’t make it. He’s more like moral support than anything else, since Eddie studies best when he has someone to talk to, and Steve isn’t too confident about his academic skills to really tutor him, so he’s just happy to help and listen.

But it’s starting to get late, he had a morning shift and he’s finding it hard to fight off the drowsiness, especially because Eddie’s voice is deep, raspy and warm, and it makes him feel like he’s listening to some type of bedtime story.

“...so that’s why, I think, trig kinda sucks. But I’m getting the hang of it, I guess?”

He barely registers the meaning of the sentence. He’s so comfortable sitting under the blanket on Eddie’s bed everything loses importance. Moving his mouth seems to be an impossible task, so Steve just hums. When he cracks one eye open, Eddie’s looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll make some coffee,” he says, but Steve doesn’t even see him leave. He slides down and buries his face in the pillows.

He knows when Eddie comes back because the smell of coffee infiltrates his sleepy haze, but doesn’t motivate him enough to get up.

“Budge up,” he hears. Then a hand squeezes his shoulder, so he moves closer to the wall with a whine, squishing his cheek further into the pillow. Something warm settles beside him and he thinks, simply, that it’s really pleasant to be this cozy and comfortable before he drifts off for good.

When he opens his eyes in the morning, he’s welcomed by a very curious sight.

Eddie Munson sleeps like a cat.

He’s lying on his back, long hair only slightly tangled where it’s splayed over the pillow. When sunrays hit his face, he instinctively turns his head in the right direction and Steve almost expects him to make a noise—a noise that would most probably remind him of purring. Eddie’s limbs are spread out all over the bed and his whole body seems to be twisted to the side, but he still takes up a lot less space than anticipated. His left hip is pressed to Steve’s right, but it’s the only point of connection between them.

Steve has seen this sleeping position only once, when he met Robin’s cat, Biscuit. Biscuit supposedly hates Robin, but somehow trusts Steve, because he sleeps with his tummy out when Steve’s around. Just like Eddie.

Steve raises his brow and looks at Eddie’s sunlit face again. He’s peaceful and relaxed, unbothered by the noises coming from outside. When the sun moves again, Eddie moves with it, pressing his bony hip a little closer to Steve’s.

That’s curious indeed. Steve doesn’t want to dwell on how it makes him feel at the moment, so he just looks. It’s quite a sight.

Weeks pass, Eddie’s peculiar habits get more and more frequent—or maybe after that one night spent at the trailer Steve’s just more focused on taking note of them. His hypothesis that Eddie’s a lot like his animal companions of choice is being confirmed time and time again, mostly when Eddie falls asleep.

After some time, Steve notices that on top of preferring weird sleeping positions, Eddie also makes a habit of seeking other people’s warmth whenever he wants to take a nap. Steve honestly doesn’t think it’s anything personal; Eddie will fall asleep on anyone’s shoulder if they let him, but he seems to have a preference. The preference being Steve.

When Robin tries to comment on that, Steve silences her. Half because he doesn’t want to confront that yet, half because he enjoys it and doesn’t want to spook Eddie away. Sue him if he likes being needed, right?

The only time he kind of regrets letting Eddie cling to him is when they go to the beach with the kids.

It’s not even a real beach, but they’re set on enjoying it as much as they can. Eddie takes his van, Nancy takes the wagon, they pack everyone inside and get the hell out of Hawkins for a full day. The weather is perfect, the grass is green and soft, the lake is nothing like Lover’s Lake at home. If only because there are no horrible memories attached.

Steve’s off babysitting duties when Nancy announces lunch, everyone wolfs down their sandwiches and lounges lazily around the lake in the scorching afternoon sun.

There aren’t many things Steve enjoys more than good sunbathing. At home, he can’t really do that anymore. He can’t stand the pool and the chlorine, he can’t stand the sound of unnatural sloshing of the water. It all makes his head spin and before he knows it, he’s back inside, fully dressed and calling Robin to ease the panic.

It’s different here. He lays down on his fluffy towel and enjoys the sun, listening to Dustin’s happy squeals and Lucas’ joyful giggling.

Until he has to hiss, because glacially cold droplets of water hit his sternum and a shadow obscures the light. When he opens his eyes, Eddie Munson grins at him despite the glare he’s being welcomed with.

“Hiya,” he says, shaking his head like a dog. Steve scowls some more. “Move over, beauty queen.”

“Don’t you have your own towel?” he grumbles, but makes space nonetheless, all while desperately trying not to catch Robin’s eyes at the same time.

Eddie plops down beside him, immediately making himself comfortable in the sparse space Steve has left him. “Yeah, but yours is better. And you wouldn’t starve a man of his rightful summer afternoon nap, would you, Stevie?”

Steve closes his eyes, not letting go of the frown. “Stop yapping or I’ll throw you into the water again.”

“Will you carry me to the shore princess style this time? Because—Hey!” He finally shuts up when Steve elbows him.

When Robin wakes him up again, Eddie’s on his side, so close to Steve he can feel his steady breaths on his shoulder. Eddie’s both arms are thrown over Steve’s chest—because of course, even his side sleeping must be cat-like.

“Wake up, tiger,” she says, barely holding back a smirk. Steve knows this face too well.

“What are you…” Robin points at the sun and then at his chest. Steve’s brain is still a little hazy from his nap, so it takes him a while to understand what she means. When it hits him, his eyes get so big Robin can’t contain herself anymore. She lets out a loud cackle that soon transforms into a full laughing fit. Steve can’t even blame her for it.

Eddie stirs beside him. Slowly, he sits up and yawns. While he’s rubbing his eyes, Steve looks down at his chest in agony. It’s all red and scorched – all, aside from two pale stripes where Eddie’s arms were lying across his skin.

He sighs at it in disbelief while Robin cackles some more.

Overall, Steve quickly finds out that he really doesn’t mind the fact that Eddie includes him in his every nap when they’re together. In fact, he learns that he enjoys it so much he can’t imagine napping all by himself at this point.

But it’s all okay. And it’s not that unusual, right? They’ve all gotten really close since Vecna—even Nancy and Robin have some kind of secret proximity contract going on between them, it seems. It’s the magic of shared trauma and shared secrets that keeps them together and pulls them closer to each other every day.

At least that’s how Steve explains it to himself. That’s how he explains the comfort and sense of safety he gets every time Eddie’s back is pressed to his chest, when they’re breathing evenly and in sync. That’s how he sees it when he absent-mindedly reaches for Eddie’s hand when they’re falling asleep on the Munsons’ worn-out sofa. That’s how he feels when Eddie’s arms pull him closer.

Deep down, he knows it’s not usual at all. He’s had enough dates and romances to recognize when things cross the line, but he purposefully closes his eyes to that for the time being, letting himself enjoy the comfort and the safety of it all.

He learns the hard way that while both him and Eddie decide to stay oblivious, not everyone else does. And the fact that they never talk about it doesn’t help.

As per usual, when their monthly movie night with Nancy and Robin – the original Upside Down Bat Squad – comes, Steve and Eddie squeeze themselves into one loveseat. Eddie’s head drops to Steve’s shoulder almost immediately and he folds himself into a small human ball, pressing his side to Steve and going to sleep instantly.

Steve would love to take a nap himself, but the movie is just interesting enough to keep him in the half-dazed lethargy between sleep and consciousness. When he finally drifts off, it’s not for long.

He opens his eyes again when he registers the sudden lack of warmth beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie leave through the glass door in his living room. He wants to call after him, but before he does, he finally notices the muffled talk in the corridor. Nancy’s voice cuts through the silence first.

“...yes, but isn’t it kind of… Strange for them to be like that without acknowledging it in any way?”

It’s quiet for a bit, as if the conversation is being actively processed by both participants. “You mean the, uh… The closeness, or…?” Robin tries to keep her voice steady and neutral, but her cover blows a little bit more with every word.

“Yes! You clearly can’t be this intimate with someone if you don’t care about them deeply. There’s always a reason to be so close to each other, right? And you’re Steve’s platonic soulmate, so it’s definitely not like that between them.”

So many things come to Steve’s mind so suddenly he has to close his eyes—things concerning not only him and Eddie, but also Nancy and Robin. Things they were all too blind to notice.

“You mean, um,” Robin swallows so loudly even Steve can hear it. “To be as close to each other… As we are, sometimes?”

He gets up, then, deciding that he’s heard enough. Robin will tell him everything either way.

When he opens the glass door and catches the sight of Eddie, sitting on one of the lawn chairs and smoking, he realizes that they’re both going to have a lot to confess to each other at work tomorrow.

He sits down on the chair next to Eddie’s and lets the silence envelop them for a second. Eddie passes him the cigarette and he takes a prolonged drag.

“Robin and Nance woke me up with their babbling. Sorry for waking you up too,” Eddie says without looking at him.

Steve doesn’t really know how to approach it. It would be difficult enough if only one or two of them were having a revelation this evening, but since it’s all of them—well, that complicates things. He’s only a little bit surprised that his revelation doesn't hurt him at all, though. It’s not making his stomach churn or his eyes water. He still feels safe within it. When he glances at Eddie again, he can’t help but hope, even though their situation has more layers than either of them has had a chance to discover.

“It’s alright,” he reassures, passing down the cigarette. “I wasn’t really sleeping.”

Something sour flashes on Eddie’s face, but it’s only temporary. He smiles again, then, although his eyes stay dim. “Bet you don’t get good sleep at all when I’m all over you.”

“Actually,” Steve says, making sure to time it perfectly. When he reaches out to take the cigarette from Eddie, he lets their fingers stay pressed together for long enough to make some ash fall to the ground by itself. “It’s the other way around. I like it. I like when we do that.”

Eddie frowns, but his expression is as far from sour as possible. “You do?”

“Yeah. It’s just… It’s calming. I feel safe. Far away from the monsters and shit.”

Eddie smiles and huffs. He lets go of the cigarette gently. His fingers drag down along Steve’s skin. He’s not too willing to admit that, but this simple gesture gives Steve enough goosebumps to last him for life.

“Monsters and shit,” Eddie says, smiling. He turns and presses his knee to Steve’s.

“Yeah, exactly,” Steve presses back. “Monsters and shit.”

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fuzzbraiin · 1 year

Text

LOOK at the roomy and slept in side of the bed beside stede? hmmmm?? perfect fitting for a potential boyfriend?? hmmm??

#it's just fact that they sleep together #literal sleeping together #ofmd #blackbonnet #our flag means death #blackbeard #edward teach #stede bonnet #ed x stede

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atths--twice · 6 months

Text

Malodourous

What happened at the end of War of the Coprophages?

Fictober day 12

Prompt: Honestly, why would I care?

Hope you enjoy!

This one is for Sue. 💓

“You know, I never thought I’d say this to you, Scully… but you smell bad,” Mulder said, smirking slightly as he walked past her, bringing the umbrella with him.

“Hey,” she called after him and he turned around, a small smile on his face.

“Yes?” he asked, waiting for her to catch up to him before they began walking again.

“It’s not as if you smell like a bed of roses. In case you’d forgotten, we’re both covered in…”

“Shit,” he said, grimacing as he shook his head. “Do you think that could’ve been something I forgot?”

“Just stating the obvious considering your statement. People in glass houses…” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“Need to invest in curtains,” he replied and for a second she stared at him in confusion. Then she laughed and shook her head. “You know, because they can be seen by everyone? Especially if they’re naked?”

“Yeah, I got it,” she said, laughing again and he nodded with a smile. “Where are we going?”

“Well, considering that our cars are trapped by fire trucks and police vehicles, and I would very much like to not smell like I rolled in a pile of horse shit, I was going to see if we could hitch a ride back to my motel.”

“Oh. Good plan.” She stopped walking and turned back to look toward her car. “Let me grab my bag.”

“Here,” he said, handing her the umbrella. “You do that and I’ll secure us a ride. Or, if I can't, I suppose we’re walking back to the motel.”

“God, I hope not.”

She hurried to the car and opened the trunk, globs of manure falling off as she did.

“Revolting,” she murmured, taking her bag out and closing the trunk again.

“Ma’am,” a firefighter said, walking over to her. “You won’t be able to get your car out for a while yet.”

“I know. I just needed to get my bag so I can shower and change, because…” She gestured to herself and she saw his nose wrinkle in disgust. “Yeah. Imagine that being on you.”

“You… yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding at her and walking away.

“That’s what I thought,” she said under her breath.

She zigzagged through the firefighters and police officers, making her way back to Mulder.

“Hey,” he said as she handed the umbrella back to him and they stood beside each other. “The fire chief has graciously offered to take us back to the motel.”

“That’s good.”

“It is,” he said, looking at her and she frowned.

“Is there something else I should know?”

“We have to ride in the back of the pickup. He doesn’t want the smell getting into his truck. So, if you don’t mind…” He shrugged and she did the same.

“Look at the state of me. Of you. Honestly, why would I care? At the moment, I think it’s probably the best place for us.”

“You do smell bad, as I previously stated. I think it’s a wise decision.”

“Fuck off,” she said, flipping him off. He laughed as she shook her head.

“You folks ready?” the chief asked and they both nodded, following him to his truck.

Mulder climbed in first, offering Scully a hand as she climbed up. The chief took her bag and put it in the cab with him.

“The rain is likely to pick up while we’re driving. Wouldn’t want your clean clothes to get wet.”

“How kind of him to worry about that,” Scully said, sitting down and leaning against the front of the bed. “Yet, he’s fine with us getting rained on while we’re driving.”

“Free coat wash,” Mulder said, sitting beside her and closing the umbrella, knowing it would not work well while they were driving.

“Only thing worse than the smell I’m experiencing now, is the smell it will have when it gets wet.”

“Hmm,” he said, resting his head back and closing his eyes.

By the time they got back to the motel, they were both wet, the rain beginning to fall harder as they scrambled out of the truck.

“Thanks for the lift,” Mulder said, taking Scully’s bag from him and ushering her inside the motel.

They walked past the front desk clerk who gave them a confused look, but said nothing.

“Here,” he said, taking out his key and opening the door. “Go take a shower.” He put her bag in the bathroom and walked out. “I’ll go see if they have any trash bags for these clothes.”

“Okay. I’ll try to be quick.”

She closed and locked the bathroom, turned on the shower to warm the water, stripped off all of her clothes and left them beside the sink in a heaping pile.

Washing twice, she stepped out of the shower feeling like a new person. As she dried off and dressed, she wondered how Bambi and Doctor Ivanov were getting along.

“Scully?” Mulder said, knocking on the door.

“Almost finished. Nearly yours,” she said.

“That’s good, but I was just going to say that I got some trash bags.”

“Okay great.”

She ran a brush through her hair, hung up her towel, grabbed her bag and opened the door.

“If you take this, I’ll take a trash bag,” she said, holding out her bag, but he shook his head.

“I’m still dirty and smelly. You’re clean and you smell good. I can bag them up for you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know,” he said, smiling as he walked into the bathroom with two trash bags and closed the door.

She sighed, looking around the nondescript motel room, the morning light pouring in.

“Hmm,” she hummed, suddenly feeling very tired, the night catching up to her.

She turned on the television and adjusted the bed covers. Sitting down, she leaned against the headboard, as she heard the shower begin running.

She woke to Mulder, pulling the comforter over her, the room slightly darker as the curtains were closed.

“Oh! Hey,” she said, attempting to sit up, but he stopped her.

“I just talked to the sheriff and the cars are still on site.”

“Mmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes and pressing further into the pillow.

When did I lay down? she thought with a frown.

Oh, who cares? came another thought and she nodded as she exhaled.

“He also said, the fire station agreed to wash them for us, so he will have them towed over there.”

“No one wants to get inside?” she asked and she heard him chuckle as he moved around the room.

“I’d say we’ve got some time. You want to get some food?”

“I want to sleep. Someone kept calling me when I attempted to do so at the time most people dedicate to sleeping.”

“He sounds like an ass,” he said and she smiled.

“He can be at times. Especially when he hangs up on you, leaving you wondering if he’s still alive.”

“Yeah, sounds kinda douchey.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, not saying anything further and he chuckled softly.

The bed suddenly shifted and she opened her eyes in surprise.

“What are you doing?” she asked, turning her head and seeing him lying on the bed.

“Well, as you mentioned, you didn’t get much sleep last night. The same thing happened to me, oddly enough. Seeing you sleeping here when I got out of the shower, it dawned on me that I am also quite tired.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, turning her head back and closing her eyes.

“We have some time for a quick nap,” he said tiredly and she yawned, burrowing further into the comforter and nodding.

The ringing of a phone woke her, something heavy holding her in place when she attempted to get up and answer it.

“Mmm,” Mulder moaned close to her ear, his arm around her tightening its hold. “Not yet.”

“Mulder,” she said, nudging him until he woke up, and moved his arm off of her midsection.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice sleepy and low.

“Your phone was ringing. Maybe it was the sheriff.”

“Maybe,” he said in the same tone, not rising from the bed.

“Mulder. Get up.”

He grumbled as he got up, picking up his phone and calling the sheriff back while Scully stayed wrapped in the warm blankets.

Thirty minutes later, the sheriff picked them up in front of the motel room and then dropped them at the fire station, chuckling under his breath every so often.

“At least you both smell better today,” he teased.

The outsides of the cars were clean, though the inside still smelled and would need a thorough deep clean once they were returned to the rental agency.

“This will be an interesting one to expense,” Scully said as they walked from the rental desk and into the airport. “I don’t think there’s space for- a building full of manure exploded onto my rental car.”

“Or we don’t say anything. And Skinner will never know.”

“But my credit card will,” she said, bumping her shoulder into him.

“Hmm… well,” he said, opening the door for her. “Then let me treat you to breakfast. It’s the least I can do.”

“The very least,” she muttered and he laughed, nodding as she walked past him.

She shook her head in reply as she thought about everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours.

Yeah, buying her breakfast was the least he could do.

#fictober23 #fictober 2023 #xffictober23 #post war of the coprophages #what happens next #they both smell bad #motels #showers #tired #raining #literal sleeping together

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journalofimprobablethings · 1 year

Text

JonTim Literal Sleeping Together: China Edition

(aka these two are still my faves, I will keep thinking about them being friends in s3 until the end of time)

On Jon and Tim's first night in Beijing, Jon books them a double room in a respectably unassuming hotel near the Research Centre. The room is on the sixth floor, and Jon supposes that the view from the window might be quite striking, if he was in any frame of mind to appreciate it.

Tim drops his bag onto the bed nearest the door with a thump as soon as they walk in.

"I never want to sit that long on a plane again, ever," he says. He twists and stretches his back, which emits several alarmingly loud pops.

"I'm afraid you'll have to in order to get home," Jon says, moving to put his bag down on the far bed.

"Nah," Tim says. "We'll just do a bunch of hops. See the sights along the way. The Institute's paying, so why not?"

"Yes, I'm sure Elias will approve those expenses."

Tim snorts. Then he nods toward the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower. Unless you want first crack at it?"

It's an innocuous question, but Jon is still getting used to this old-new side of Tim—the way he checks in with Jon now, making sure that he's okay.

It's nice. He thinks it's nice. But it's strange.

"No, that's fine. You go ahead."

Tim nods and disappears into the bathroom.

–

The rest of the evening is like that—a bit fumbling as they work out bathroom logistics, then attempt to order some food ("I don't know why, but ordering Chinese takeaway when we're in China feels strange," Tim says). Even though Jon has spent occasional nights over at Tim's flat, somehow all their vocabulary for navigating a shared space seems to not quite fit here.

But they're both trying, and considering how tired they are, Jon is proud of them for getting through the afternoon with minimal snapping.

By the time the food arrives, Jon's eyes are drifting shut of their own accord. He knows he should eat before trying to sleep, should try to stay up to a reasonable time to help with the jet lag, but when he's startled upright by the sound of his chopsticks clattering to the floor from his slack hand, Tim gives him a look and he nods at the unspoken message in his eyes.

He pauses only briefly between the beds—at Tim's flat, they had kept sharing the bed out of habit, and, as Tim pointed out, as the best option to avoid severe back pain.

But here there is no need to share. He had booked the double room on purpose, so they could each have their own space.

He casts one glance over at Tim sitting on the bed opposite. Then he crawls under the covers and is asleep as soon as he shuts his eyes.

–

Jon had hoped that tonight, just for tonight, he would manage a dreamless sleep. But of course, he's never been a lucky man.

The room is dark when he claws his way out of the dream, chest heaving with desperate, gasping breaths. The clock on the nightstand informs him that it's just past three in the morning.

He lies still, trying to get his breathing under control, hoping he hasn't made enough noise to wake Tim. The remnants of the dream still cling to him, wisps of fog and the hate in Naomi's eyes hovering at the edges of his mind, and as hard as he tries his breath keeps coming in rough, ragged gasps (loud, too loud)---

"Jon?" Tim's voice comes quietly from across the space between the beds.

Damn.

"I'm fine," he says, trying to ignore the strain in his own voice. "It's fine, Tim, go back to sleep."

It's a bit stupid, he knows, trying to act like everything is fine. He's already told Tim about the dreams. Tim has nightmares of his own, he knows; of clowns and theatres and that terrible helplessness, the feeling of being forced to watch someone else be torn apart.

But even though things are better between them now, there's always a part of Jon that feels the need to tread lightly; a part of him that worries that one day Tim will wake up and realize that Jon is a monster, that he's not to be trusted, that he should be pushed away.

So Jon curls himself into a ball, trying to make himself as small and quiet as possible, and hopes Tim will listen to him and just go back to sleep.

He's so focused on his own breathing, on trying to push the memory of the dream out of his mind, that he doesn't hear Tim get up, and he startles when Tim's voice comes again from just next to the bed.

'Budge up," Tim says.

"What?"

The mattress sags suddenly, and it takes Jon's sleep-addled brain longer than it should to realize that Tim has sat down on the edge of his bed. Before Jon can protest, Tim lifts the blankets and scoots under them, giving Jon a gentle shove on the shoulder as he does.

"Move over a little, I'm going to fall off the side."

Jon does, mostly because Tim is already there and Jon wouldn't put it past him to actually roll off the bed just to prove a point. Tim settles himself in the space Jon's made–in a better mood, Jon would needle him about how much movement it seems to take for him to get comfortable, but as it is he just lays still and tries to even out his breathing.

Tim finally begins to settle, near enough to Jon that he can feel his body heat. Jon feels him roll over one last time, and then a gentle weight comes down on his shoulder as Tim reaches over to place an arm around him.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

Jon can already feel his muscles relaxing, the shakes leftover from the nightmare already subsiding.

"Yes."

"Okay."

Tim lets his arm fully settle around Jon, his chest a warm presence pressed gently against Jon's back. Jon takes a deep breath, and Tim's arm tightens around him, just a little, in wordless comfort. Jon reaches up to where Tim's hand rests near his collarbone and squeezes back.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Shh, boss," Tim replies. "You're welcome. Go to sleep."

And Jon does.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #literal sleeping together #there were two beds this time #but that doesn't stop them #tma fanfic #scribblings #long post

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cosmicdog · 10 months

Text

Comfortable Spaces

“Mic-sensei,” Shinsou says, doing his best to keep his voice flat and unaffected in front of other students. “I have a question. About the course work.”

He’s sure that Mic-sensei sees through him immediately, but at least his general studies classmates likely won’t. Mic’s eyes are far too wise for comfort behind his glasses when he looks at Shinsou.

“Sure, listener! What’s your question?” Mic asks. His full attention is on Shinsou and they both wait while the last of Shinsou’s classmates file out of the room.

“Is he okay?,” Shinsou asks. His voice is a little quieter than usual, but he holds eye contact with Mic-sensei without any visible discomfort.

“He’s fine, Shinsou. It’s just a migraine. He tried his best to come to class today, but he can hardly see straight. He’ll probably be back tomorrow or the day after. He said you could use today as a rest day, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.” Shinsou pauses, mildly confused. “Why?”

“Well, I would suggest you use today to rest. Maybe you can even convince someone else to rest, too. You better get to your next class. Do you need a note?”

Shinsou is absolutely positive that his face is on fire. His heart is racing, and he’s pretty sure he stopped breathing, too. Mic-sensei knows. Does Aizawa-sensei know, too? Does Aizawa-sensei know that Mic-sensei knows?

“Shinsou, did you need a note?” Mic-sensei asks again, completely composed, without so much as a blink.

Hitoshi takes a breath, far too deep and burning. His eyes water at the sensation and he quickly shakes his head before fleeing the classroom.

Hizashi is mildly concerned about Shinsou passing out from a panic attack when he flees the classroom, but he seems to have been alright. Shouta is probably going to murder him for heavily implying that Shinsou should go see him. Hizashi isn’t sure how intimidated he is by that notion today. Not when Aizawa was worried about Shinsou not taking his absence well, and Shinsou is clearly not taking his absence well. They both need to get some sleep anyway, so hopefully Shinsou will take his advice.

Hizashi purses his lips, realizing that Shinsou is probably going to need another little push to get him to go over to Aizawa’s. He picks up his classroom phone to make a call. Maybe he could ensure that the two of them got a decent meal.

Shinsou is nervous when he quietly opens the door to Aizawa’s apartment. It’s almost never locked when Aizawa is home, and now is no exception. It’s irresponsible of Aizawa-sensei to leave his home vulnerable when he’s not feeling well, but it’s Aizawa-sensei, so it’s not really surprising.

He does his best to keep his breathing calm, even as his heart is clearly trying to be heard over the soft buzz of electronics in the otherwise quiet apartment. He slips his shoes off and walks into the kitchen, glancing to the living area couch.

There’s an abandoned nest of blankets there, evidence that Aizawa is around somewhere. Hitoshi silently moves through the apartment to Aizawa’s room, where he spots his mentor laid out on his back, one arm draped over his eyes.

“I told you to take a rest day,” Aizawa-sensei lifts his arm just enough to make eye contact with Shinsou in the warm, hazy light that filters in through the curtained windows. His voice is rough, and it’s obvious that he’s still in pain. Shinsou’s chest constricts. His mentor has never let his guard down like this with him.

“Mic-sensei and Midnight-sensei seemed pretty convinced that I would be able to convince you to eat something.” Shinsou responds as quietly as he can from the doorway. “I brought some stir fry. Midnight-sensei sent some coffee, too. Not prepared, just - for tomorrow.”

“Guess that means I have to get up.” Aizawa heaves a sigh.

“I could bring it to you, if you want.”

“I don’t usually eat in bed.”

“It might be a good time for an exception.”

“Cute. Go pick out a movie, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Shinsou’s face is on fire all over again. He moves back to the kitchen just as quietly as he’d gone looking for Aizawa.

He’s set up a couple of plates of stir fry, gotten some water, and pain meds for Aizawa by the time he emerges from his room, slowly maneuvering himself down the hall. He watches out of the corner of his eye while pulling up Howl’s Moving Castle.

“This one again?,” Aizawa asks without judgment while settling himself on the couch.

“I like this one,” Shinsou mumbles, plainly pouting. “I can change it. You’re the sick one, you should get final say.”

“It’s fine, Shinsou,” Aizawa reaches for the glass of water set on the coffee table in front of him.

“Take the meds, too, please?”

Aizawa groans, but picks up the little pills from the table as well. He looks at Shinsou with raised brows, silently asking if he’s pleased. Shinsou looks back, unimpressed, until Aizawa actually takes the medication.

They both settle into the couch with their meals while the film starts, and Shinsou’s nerves calm as familiar music washes over him. When their meals are finished, Shinsou plucks the empty plate from Aizawa’s hands before he can make a move to get up.

By the time Shinsou is finished cleaning up the kitchen and refilling Aizawa’s water, Aizawa has curled up on the couch under a blanket, and the sun is starting to set.

“Are you feeling better?” Shinsou asks before hitting play on the paused film. He tries to be unassuming about it, to keep his voice mostly unconcerned, but if the look on Aizawa’s face is anything to go by, it doesn’t work.

“Come here, Toshi,” Aizawa yawns and lifts one side of his blanket. Shinsou’s blushing again, and hoping that the room is dark enough that Aizawa can’t see it.

He does as instructed while he grumbles softly about the unfairness of using nicknames. Aizawa hides a grin while Shinsou gets settled against his side. Maybe it was a little unfair to use the nickname, but Aizawa knows Shinsou will do anything when he calls him Toshi and he’s clearly exhausted, probably from the anxiety that he tries to pretend doesn’t plague him.

“I’m just fine,” Aizawa assures him, tucking the blanket around Shinsou before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I was getting better before you got here, but the food, the water, the meds all helped. Thank you for taking care of me.” Aizawa squeezes Hitoshi’s shoulders closer, and before he can think too much about it, presses a kiss to his favorite student’s hairline.

Shinsou’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he’s sure he’s grinning like a fool, curled against his mentor, his favorite person in the world. These moments are the ones he lives for, when Aizawa offers him affection that he’s hardly gotten anywhere else. Aizawa never comments on Shinsou’s eager acceptance, but always makes sure to ruffle his hair, or pull him into a short hug after training. These moments, though, when Aizawa decides it’s time for a break, and they get to exist together quietly, are special.

The movie plays on, and Shinsou is dangerously comfortable, tucked into Aizawa’s side under a warm blanket. His nerves are truly calm for the first time all day, he’s warm, the feeling of another person against him is comfortable. Aizawa’s steady presence is always a comfort and he’s done for when Aizawa starts absentmindedly running fingers through his hair. Exhaustion takes over entirely by the time the credits start rolling and Shinsou is a dead weight against Aizawa.

Aizawa finds himself hard pressed to keep his own eyes open, and Shinsou looks so peaceful, he can’t find it in himself to wake him up. So, Aizawa carefully shifts to a more comfortable position and allows himself to sleep.

A few hours later, Hizashi quietly opens the door to the apartment that he shares with Shouta. The exact scene he was hoping for greets him in the living room, Shouta and Shinsou curled together on the couch, deep asleep.

He snaps a quick photo before gently nudging Shouta awake. In careful silence, he gathers Shinsou up in his arms and motions for Shouta to follow. Shinsou isn’t typically a deep sleeper, but he always seems to sleep well enough here with the two of them, and he doesn’t so much as twitch while Hizashi tucks him into the bed he normally shares with Shouta before excusing himself to shower.

Shouta has Shinsou pulled against his chest and is already back to sleep when he returns. He watches them with fondness for a minute before sliding into the bed on Shouta’s other side. He mimics Shouta’s position, curling himself around the other man.

Morning comes far too quickly, but Hizashi pops up from bed when the alarm goes off. Shouta and Shinsou whine in sync, but slowly start to move while Hizashi herds them into the kitchen. Shinsou starts on making the coffee that Nemuri sent with him the day before. Shouta pulls leftover stir fry from the fridge and bentos from the cabinet while Hizashi turns on music before starting on making breakfast.

He loves these mornings, when Shinsou is still too sleepy and comfortable to be anxious. He reminds Hizashi so much of Shouta when they were teenagers, it’s a relief, to be able to be a safe place, a safe person for Shinsou to be around.

“You’re very quiet. Do you have a migraine now?” Shinsou asks softly, voice thick with sleep while he pouts at Hizashi. Hizashi gladly wraps Shinsou in a hug.

“Nope! Just felt like a quiet morning,” Hizashi grins down at the teenager who gives up on wiggling out of his grip to get to the coffee and leans on Hizashi instead.

“Okay.”

Hizashi is pretty sure this interaction will make Shinsou anxious later, but every minute of comfort he can offer, he will. It certainly doesn’t hurt that when Hizashi does manage to wrap Shinsou in hugs, it makes Shouta jealous enough to bully his way into it as well. It’s a bit like herding cats, really, but he can’t complain when he has his two favorite listeners cozy and warm in his arms.

It’s been a couple of weeks since Shinsou fell asleep pressed against his mentor, and his perpetual exhaustion has been exacerbated by a flare up in his insomnia. He’s processing everything slower and it feels like his mind is operating through cold maple syrup.

It’s impossible not to notice, and Shinsou is sure that Aizawa is going to berate him for not getting enough rest, mostly because he’s berating himself for not getting enough rest.

He’s surprised when he meets Aizawa in their usual spot to find both Aizawa and Yamada standing there with their things, looking ready to go home.

“Today we’re resting.” Aizawa tells his perplexed student without an ounce of hesitation. He takes Shinsou’s bag, and leads him to Yamada’s car. “We can watch Howl’s Moving Castle, if you want.”

“Again?,” Yamada sounds shocked, looking at Shinsou who ducks his head. “Well, Howl’s Moving Castle it is.”

“And maybe some coffee?”

“NO!” Yamada looks scandalized. “Rest, not coffee. Shouta! What are you teaching him? Next thing you know, he’s going to be asking for jelly packs.”

“Oh, do you have a mango one?” Shinsou asks with a straight face.

“Shouta!”

“He’s joking.” There’s a pause. “He prefers the strawberry one.”

“Shouta!”

#aizawa shouta #eraserhead #shinsou hitoshi #yamada hizashi #present mic #literal sleeping together #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #shinzawa #shinzawamic #erasermic #migraines #comfort

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youchangedmedestiel · 4 months

Link

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Words: 1,650

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester

Additional Tags: Episode Tag: s14e08 Byzantium, Canon Universe, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Like Jack is still dead but we know he comes back later, Grieving Dean Winchester, Grieving Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Everyone Needs A Hug, Dean Winchester Needs Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Hopeful Ending

Summary:

Jack just died. Sam leaves the kitchen first after their drinking session to mourn Jack together as a family, leaving Dean and Cas alone. They drink a little bit more, just the two of them. Then Cas decides to leave the kitchen, but Dean calls him once he is in the hallway. So he turns around and comes back to Dean.

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lil-vibes · 1 year

Text

one of my personal skk hc is that they fall asleep on top of eachother. like, think of laundry on the floor. just crumpled on top one another, in the most ungodly angles imaginable. single chairs, floors, the back of an alleyway - it doesnt matter they are OUT like a light

#literal sleeping together #and its deep sleep too #like balkan kids at a wedding #something something they find deep comfort and safety in eo something something #the ada takes one look at them and all of their bones start aching #skk WILL complain after they wake up and promptly do it again two day later #im a sucker for old; domestic; soft habbits when it comes to these two #also they shared an apartment at some point in pm and ull pry that hc out of my cold dead hands #soft #skk headcanons #skk #bsd #dazai #chuuya my love #personal hc #my hc

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hazbinficsandstuff-eyeshadow · 1 month

Text

A NEW WAY

Chapter 1(I sincerely hope this work was not for nothing)

Vox and val played in bed together. He was a clingy piss baby and liked cuddling with vox especially when he was upset...which was all the time. They layed close together for awhile Valentino petting the top of his boyfriends TV head. Although vox usually put on a tough persona he felt a lot more comfortable with the vee's. When Val pet his head he could feel himself let go, he fell asleep at val's soft touch.

Valentino still holding him with his right arm found it really adorable especially with his soft snores and the red lines from his slightly opened mouth. The only thing he wanted in his life was vox. Valentino would let go of everything just to have vox he'd even give up his status Although he knew vox probably wouldn't do the same for him. Valentino knew this wouldn't last forever though and he'd soon ruin it with his quik-temper and impulsivitiy would make this end just as quick as it begun. It was an awful on and off again proccess.

Vox still layed deep asleep on Valentinos chest and mumbled "Iloveyoualastor". Valentinos eyes shattered like broken glass at voxs unconscious words. Although val would usually scream and throw things whenever vox mentioned alastor, which was a lot, this time he didn't. Val was trying to better himself or at least be less impulsive.

Valentino was about to yell at him but then he looked at vox's sleepy face, his body was limp and tired from working all day, he pretty much fell asleep as soon as they layed down together. Val jsut couldn't do it this time he looked to adorable to Valentino. He still wanted this moment to last and not be ruined by him. For now val would just enjoy the moment. Vall then fell asleep at the comfy presence of his boyfriend. They both resyed for about an hour and then vox woke up with a slight panic and Valentino almost immediately after.

"Shoot, did I fall asleep again?" Vox says holding his head. "Voxy, it's okay, I fell asleep too, you don't have to always be so tough especially with me, I like you just the way you are even with your cute little sleepy face voxy~" Valentino teases as he held vox's screen. " I know" vox said sheepishly still not 100 sure of himself. "You were talking about alastor in your sleep again voxy~". Vox's screen turned a dark remand he groaned "ugh, what the fuck did I say this time, I HATE that peice of shit"

Valentino gave vox a look with ine raised eyebrow " well you Said you loved him an hour ago". Voxs screen glitched until it displayed "overheat" on the center. "I was unconscious, I didn't mean anything I said" vox replied slightly ticked. "You seem pretty awake during the five times a day you call me alastor". Vox put his finger up about to respond but then grew speechless. Valentino then suggested "what if I kill him? Problem solved" he said pulling out a pink gun that he had decided made him look Sexier than the gold gun.

"Yes kill that som of a bitch!! And did you have that on you the whole time?". Valentino immediately jumped up still holding his gun clearly ready to.march over and just kill the radio demon. Vox immediately grabs him by the hood of his wings making him fall backwards onto the floor. Vox towered over him as valentino layed back to the floor" are you insane? Hells crush you! Just like he did to me" vox says dramatically closing his fist in anger.

"Cut the melodrama voxy~, but what do you propose?" Valentino replied

"I'm not proposing to him again, valentino"

"I mean how do you think we should kill him?"

Velvettes tumbles through the door and says in her usual sassy horizontal head Bob "can't you just take control of Angel and kill him?"

Val replied "WHAT IN THE UNHOLY HELL!?? HAVE YOU BEEN THERE THE WHOLE TIME??..but no I might have not gotten that bitch to sign it if it wasn't only for the studio. So im.limited to what I can do to control him."

"That sucks" velvette replied. A sudden idea popped into vox's head and he had the vees follow him into the elevator upstairs until they reached his TV room. Vox sat in his chair and pulled up a digital file on his computer. It was a bulletin board that just had a bunch of pictures of alastor with with red strings that had little hearts implanted around them. In the middle was just one giant sticky note that said "kill?".

" one time I satrtes plotting how to kill alastor but I didn't get to far" vox said not very impressed with his work.

" got to lost in his eyes" velvette teased as valentino rolled his eyes".

Authors notes: sorry that the characters aren't that in character I just wrote this for fun because I got bored in social studies and spent like an hour transitioning it to my phone.

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greycoffee · 2 months

Text

Take My Hand, Give Me Your Soul and Fire

Pairing: Zack Addy/Seeley Booth

Summary: A rewrite based on 1x09 The Man in the Fallout Shelter where Zack finds it odd that he keeps bumping into Booth at every turn even though they're locked down in the lab. He discovers something about himself while observing him.

Part: 1/3

Word count: 4.5k

Song: Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol

My bones ache, my skin feels cold

And I’m getting so tired and so old

Zack winces as the needle pricks his buttock. He isn’t the biggest fan of getting shots but, if it means not dying of Valley fever, then he can set aside his feelings for the pointed instrument momentarily. He slides his pants back up, not that he had lowered them much, and glances awkwardly between his colleagues and the floor as they talk about what to do next now that they’re aware of side effects or symptoms they should look out for.

For now, they’re told to get some rest. Hal, the head of the hazmat team, bids them a good night and reasures them not to be too worried before packing up the equipment. Once they leave the medico-legal lab, it’s his team’s turn to complain about their ruined holiday plans. Well, everyone except for one person.

“You know what?” Booth says humorously. “I’ve never realized how pretty all this shiny stuff is.”

The others watch him with mixed feelings of awe and jealousy solely for the fact that Booth is the only one with the preferable side effects. There’s not much that they can do other than discuss how they should get some sleep and then regroup in the morning to examine the unidentified remains now that they have the time to do so. Once the sleeping bags are brought in, everyone grabs a sleeping bag before dispersing to their little nooks.

Hodgins claps the back of Zack’s shoulder. “I’m calling our workstation if you want to bunk with me.”

Zack doesn’t say anything but nods as he considers taking Hodgins’ offer, it’s the most logical seeing as they’re closer and more accustomed to each other’s presence. Plus, they’ve shared the same sleeping area before after having a few too many drinks while watching anticipated basketball games. There was no other reason as to why he shouldn’t.

He’s ready to follow Hodgins and grab a sleeping bag from the lone pile when his eyes latch on to the only other person who’s been quietly staring at the lab’s light fixtures. Booth turns away from the twinkling lights and locks eyes with him, the doltish smile still plastered across his face. Panic shoots up Zack’s chest and bubbles at the cusp of his throat as he looks for something to say.

Booth is acknowledging him, and although he might not be saying anything he’s maintaining eye contact, which is something he isn’t used to. He feels like he’s under some kind of spotlight.

“You see this?” Booth asks him as glances back at the lights, his eyes speckled with their reflection. “Wow, I mean these are… beautiful.”

Zack’s fingers twitch from where they hang uselessly by his side. His eyes flit from one side of the lab to the other in a last-ditch effort at shifting Booth’s attention from him onto something else. There’s no one else in the lab other than the two of them.

“Uh, Agent Booth?”

All he receives is a noncommittal, “Yeah?”

“Shouldn’t you be with Dr. Brennan?”

At the mention of the anthropologist’s name, Booth turns, his brown eyes on him once more.

“Bones?” he asks. Zack nods. “Should I be?”

“I suppose not, but you always accompany her wherever she goes.”

Booth lightly scoffs. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” he refutes. He’s not sure where his sudden burst of dissent is coming from but it doesn’t burrow itself back down immediately. “You tend to seek her out whenever you’re assigned to a case that requires the Jeffersonian’s resources.”

“Because the FBI and the Jeffersonian have an agreement.”

Zack shakes his head. “Although that’s true you never seek the others. You always seek out Dr. Brennan specifically.”

Booth’s eyes shift and there’s an odd emotion in them Zack can’t quite identify (not that he can recognize most of the looks people give him anyway). All he knows is Booth would never give him this type of look during their regular, albeit limited, interactions.

“Yeah well,” Booth scratches at the corner of his mouth and sniffs, “Dr. Goodman assigned her as the leader of your squint team, she’s the most qualified to be in and out of the field when it comes to our joint forces… we work well together.”

“We as in?”

“The FBI and the Jeffersonian,” Booth says quickly with an awkward smile.

Zack doesn’t know what to make of that so he agrees. “Right.”

“Right.”

Booth goes back to staring at the lights. Zack sighs and makes up his mind to get the man’s attention again. He carefully makes his way over and lays a hand on Booth’s arm. It works and he earns a mildly confused Booth staring at the sudden touch.

“Let’s go find Dr.Brennan,” he says with much effort. Zack feels like his heart’s going to shoot out of his chest; he’s sure Booth would be able to pinpoint his location with the sound alone if he had a gun trained on him in a dark room. “She’ll know what to do with you and I’ll get to keep all of my fingers.”

“Why wouldn’t you keep all of your fingers?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“Because I’m laying them on you?”

Booth’s eyes soften.“You know I don’t mean it when I threaten you and Hodgins, right? I’d never hurt you.”

Zack almost wishes the agent would threaten to shoot him and stuff his lanky body somewhere obscure where no one would find him. However, something inside of him grows fond of this side of Booth he’s never let him see and he learns why. It isn’t difficult to develop some kind of soft spot for him.

The corners of his lips twitch upward. “Of course I do.”

Booth returns his attention to look ahead of them, his eyes following the lights from time to time as they make their way to Brennan’s office. Zack’s sure he hears the FBI agent mutter some things under his breath but pays no attention to his hallucinogenic ramblings; he’s focused on getting Booth to Brennan in one piece and bruiseless… if only Booth could stop looking up at the lights every five seconds.

“Where are you going?”

“To the restroom,” Zack answers, showing Hodgins the packaged toothbrush and toothpaste they were provided with. “I just remembered that I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

Hodgins made a sound of acknowledgment before settling comfortably into his sleeping bag and tucking the fabric beneath his arms.

“If you find any eggnog that managed to survive the bone dust, bring it over.”

Zack gives a short laugh. “No promises.”

He can practically hear Hodgins roll his eyes and takes that as his cue to leave before he gets something thrown at the back of his head.

The bathroom’s empty like it typically is even in hours of service. Still, Zack waits a few seconds to see if anyone’s inside before walking over to a sink and running his toothbrush under the faucet. The bristles are harsh on his gums but he powers through it finding that he’ll find it considerably worse if he doesn’t brush at all.

He rests a palm on the cold counter and leans into it, humming to himself as he gets into every crevice that he can. Zack rolls his head onto his shoulder and eases into the peaceful quiet especially after the commotion where everyone had been so quick to point the finger at one another. The quiet felt duly needed and he’s grateful for it.

However, as if a testament to his dwindling luck, the door to the restroom opens and Zack looks up at the mirror to see a quiet and mild-tempered Booth waltzing in. Well, the mild-tempered part doesn’t last for long as the man’s entire demeanor changes the second he realizes he isn’t alone inside the men’s restroom. Zack almost finds it endearing actually. The sudden change in conduct reminds him of his sister’s golden retriever when he returns home for the holidays: bright, captivating eyes, perked ears, and a wagging tail that smacks him when she begs for pets.

No, he reminds himself. Booth isn’t a dog and he doesn’t have a tail — but if he did, it would definitely be wagging, he concludes.

“Zack,” the man breathes out a sigh of… relief?

Zack quickly looks away from the mirror to spit in the sink. “Booth, what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for —” he stops to look for the right words to say “— the restroom.”

Zack cups a hand of water and rinses out the toothpaste before using the sleeve of his graphic tee to wipe away the remaining water that clung to the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I just finished up here.” He finds that he can’t keep the eye contact Booth’s been so insistent on holding with him anymore and he looks down at the wet sink. “Restroom’s all yours.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not rushing you.”

He rinses his brush and taps it against the edge of the basin all the while stealing a glance at Booth; he finds it odd that the man hasn’t moved. Zack decides to crack a little joke with Booth and see where he is in terms of reality while putting his toiletries away. No one really knows how long it’ll take for the effects to wear off.

“So, did you finally wear Dr. Brennan’s patience down or did Angela kick you out?”

No response.

Okay, maybe Booth’s back to ignoring him. That’s fine with him, he knows what to do when Booth isn’t acknowledging him anyway. It’s clockwork.

“I’m sorry by the way,” he muses. “I didn’t mean to blame you for keeping us here at the lab, I was just annoyed that you brought something for Brennan to —”

The sound of footsteps causes him to look up at the mirror and see Booth approaching him. There’s something off about him, an indecipherable look in his eyes. It’s quick, like the snap of a rubber band tenfold, but noticeable all the same. Zack barely has any time to turn around and face him by the time Booth’s standing directly in front of him, the proximity of his broad chest making him take a step back until he’s met with the cold countertop digging into his lower back. His eyes snap up to meet Booth’s own, who are watching him curiously.

“Why do you keep bringing up Bones?”

Zack feels like prey being stared down by a predator, save for the fear that would usually be instilled in the prey, he feels small. There was something else deep within him. The sensation roiling in his abdomen wasn’t dread he knew that much, but it was disquieting nonetheless. He swallows anxiously and the motion triggers something in the man in front of him.

Booth leans in closer and Zack feels his chest press against his own. It’s warm unlike the room they’re in, the dichotomy between his warmth and the cold marble drove him crazy, like a circuit on the fritz. He quickly shot his hands up and put them between them to stop the sensation. His palms pressed against Booth’s shirt while the pads of his fingers connected with exposed skin just above the seams. The feeling crackles and burns his fingers like exposed wire.

It did nothing to calm the feeling.

“Dr. Brennan this. Dr. Brennan that.” Booth’s breath fans over his cheek as he leans down, his arms caging Zack in. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Zack finds it odd that Booth’s breath is fresh and minty. He assumed Booth had also forgotten to brush his teeth, like he had, and had therefore entered the restroom to do so but now he isn’t sure.

“I’m sorry,” he pushes through a single breath and squeezes his eyes shut. “I just thought that, since the two of you work together, you’d appreciate spending more time with her. I’m surprised you’ve even acknowledged me for this long.”

“I already spend enough time with her during work, Zack.” His body trembles at the way his name sounds coming from Booth’s lips. “Ever thought that maybe I felt intimidated by you? All that knowledge stored inside that pretty little head of yours and I don’t know what to say without making a fool out of myself in front of you?”

Zack blinks. Huh?

Before he can ask what he meant, ask for some type of clarification, Booth withdraws his arms and takes a step back. Zack feels his skin prickle at the cold that rushes over him and finds that he misses the warmth, the way his body felt pressed against Booth’s, he craves its comfort and pulls closer — he snaps himself out of his thoughts and looks up to see that Booth is still standing close, brown eyes dark and piercing. His body betrays him and he shivers.

They stand there, looking at each other for a few moments, when Zack finally gains the ability to speak.

“It’s late,” he whispers. Booth nods. “I told Hodgins I was only going to go brush my teeth. He’s probably taken my sleeping bag hostage by now.”

Booth blinks and his gaze softens. “You were getting ready for bed?”

Zack nods, not fully trusting his voice.

“Sorry for keeping you up.”

Heat rushes up Zack’s face, he’s unsure why. He wants to jump off of the Jeffersonian’s roof.

“It’s okay.”

“What’s he doing here?”

Hodgins is no longer inside his sleeping bag by the time the two of them get back to the shared sleeping space. It looks as though his friend had been ready to go looking for him if he hadn’t come back the moment he had… he isn’t even sure how he’d attempt to explain why Booth had pinned him against the bathroom counter if he had found them. In all honesty, he still isn’t sure how to explain it to himself.

Some sort of display of dominance? Zack’s already seen Booth do that on a few occasions but he’s proven his dominance over him on multiple occasions through a multitude of ways. This time it felt different.

Ugh, he really — really — wants to jump off of the Jeffersonian’s roof. Lucky, or rather unlucky for him, they’re in quarantine and he didn’t have access to it.

“He followed me here,” he whispers to Hodgins as he makes his way over to his sleeping bag.

“You know I’m just high, not deaf, right?”

“Shut it, Shrooms.” Hodgins points at him and then shoots a mildly annoyed look at Zack. “I can’t believe out of all of us he’s the one who gets to be blissfully stoned out of his mind.”

So far, from how he’s seen Booth act, Zack’s not sure he wants to be blissed out of his mind. He’d rather be in control of himself, thank you very much.

Booth walks over to a shelf stocked full of all sorts of equipment and pulls something out of its proper place. He turns it over in his hands, reading the label if it has one before putting it back to grab something else. If it doesn’t have a label he proceeds to ask Hodgins, who only has so much patience before he’s itching at the band on his wrist, what it is. Zack steps in and answers a few of Booth’s questions to diffuse the situation.

Booth grows quiet for a few moments… before moving onto the next shelf and pulling something else to examine. Zack goes to take it out of his hand and shush him before he can ask but he’s too late.

“So what does this –”

“Alright, out.” Hodgins shoots up into a seated position. “Both of you need to go find somewhere else to sleep.”

Zack scrunches his brow in confusion. “Both of us? C’mon —”

“Yes, both of you. You brought your little friend here and he’s worn my patience down enough.”

Zack groans and, not wanting to put up a fight, pulls both his sleeping bag and pillow off of the observation table. He doesn’t even attempt to roll it back up and lets it drag across the floor as he makes his way to the door. When he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him, Zack turns to look at Booth and glares at him.

“You heard him.”

Booth falls into step with him. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to my office.”

“You have an office?”

“Kinf of… not really,” he says as he tries to find the right words to use. “I call it my office but it’s more of a workstation than an actual office. There’s a couch thrown in there by the Jeffersonian but it’s nothing like Dr. Brennan’s.”

“Huh. For some reason, I never entertained the idea that you'd have an office.”

Zack spares him a glance. “Not sure why you’d waste a second of your day wondering if I had an office or not.”

Booth hums as if reminding himself of something. “Right.”

Zack looks up to see him staring straight ahead, a pensive notch carved on his brow. He decides not to question what that look meant, it’s far too late and Booth’s been enough of a pain in the ass as of tonight. He just wants to sleep and hopes that somehow they will all be given the green light to go home when they wake in the morning.

Zack smiles at the sight of his ‘office’ door and pushes it. Thankfully, it’s a part of the quarantine zone and it opens without much resistance. Booth follows close behind and gives a quick look around, not that there’s much to look at.

He doesn’t have much in there, not many personal things at least. He keeps most of his belongings in his apartment, of course, but a few things are scattered throughout his workspace like his favorite books mixed in with research texts and trinkets from shows or comics he enjoys. Besides that, he has a throw pillow his little brother made him a few years back when he first moved out to DC. It was one of the first sewing projects he made in his art class that had sturdy enough stitches in it to have not fallen apart during the move. He makes his way over to the couch and fluffs the pillow before returning it to its rightful spot.

Right, they still need to figure sleeping arrangements out. There’s enough room for Booth to set up his sleeping bag parallel to the couch if he moves the cart of tools closer to the shelf. Zack turns to instruct him to do as such when he realizes a crucial detail.

“Where’s your sleeping bag?”

“My what?” Booth’s confusion only serves to raise Zack’s eyebrows… until he remembers and snaps his fingers. “Oh right, I left it with your boss.”

“You left it with Dr. Brennan?”

He shakes his head. “Your boss’ boss.”

Was that who Booth was with prior to finding him in the restroom? He hadn’t spoken much with the others after they had all gone their separate ways but it wasn’t too far of an assumption that Booth would’ve bunked with Dr. Goodman; Booth never did fit the type of person that likes being alone.

“If you left it with Dr. Goodman, then why aren’t you with him?”

“I – good question – I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Eh.”

Zack smacks a hand over his face. “Okay well you can either return to Goodman so you can sleep in your own sleeping bag, or –” he raises the sleeping bag “– you can stay here and take mine.”

The gesture surprises both him and Booth. He’s not sure why he’s giving Booth an option; knowing Booth, he would take the option to spend as little time with the socially awkward assistant anthropologist. But this new side of Booth? Zack isn’t sure what he’d do now… and he’s a little curious as to what he’ll do. Besides he would feel bad for kicking him out after Hodgins had done the same.

“You’re letting me bunk with you?”

Zack shrugs and furthers the man into making a decision by motioning Booth to take the lump of fabric in his hand. “I’m being nice and letting you take this rather than the cramped couch.”

Booth smiles in that dopey way he’s been doing since receiving the shot. Even his eyes have this odd attentiveness to Zack in a way he’s still not used to… he’s not quite sure what to make of it or how it’s related to the side effects of the shot.

“You are nice.”

Zack’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “That’s what I just said?”

“I –” Booth sighs and fails to continue his thought before taking the sleeping bag. “Never mind.”

Silence falls over them as they tend to their sleeping arrangements. Zack plops the pillow on one end before dropping himself onto the couch and hugging his brother’s throw pillow to his chest. He stares up at the ceiling and listens as Booth zips himself into the sleeping bag, the rustling fading as he settles into it.

“These are far more comfortable than the army–mandated ones we got in Kosovo.”

Zack stays quiet for a good second before something in him prompts him to blurt out: “Army–mandated?”

“Yeah —” he hears Booth take a deep breath “— we never got much sleep but when we did, and if we were lucky, we’d get a few hours of sleep in these really thin sleeping bags. We were extremely lucky to even get them sometimes.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“It was terrible,” he chuckles quietly. “You wouldn’t believe the places we used to get some shut-eye.”

“Try me. I’ll listen,” Zack says quietly when he doesn’t say anything else. Booth looks up and they lock eyes, curious eyes chipping at his to find some answer. “Where else did you sleep?”

A faint smile graces Booth’s lips.

“Anywhere we could. We’d sleep inside our operation vehicles, sometimes on or under them. Depending on where we were, sometimes we’d dig a trench and bunk there. And sometimes, if you wanted some space away from the others, you would go look for an isolated spot in some shrubbery or other foliage.”

“What if you overslept? Wouldn’t you be left behind?”

“Yeah, well… it happened to me once.”

Zack turns on his side and peers over the edge with an alarmed look on his face. “What?”

Booth snorts, entertained by his outrage. “I mean yeah, but they found me not long after. I woke up to see the OV gone and none of my teammates there.”

“Weren’t you terrified?”

Booth’s eyes flit to the ceiling above them. “Of course I was. We were close to enemy territory and we had been very close to being spotted a few times but we toughed up, we pulled through. We were trained for those kinds of situations.”

“I’m assuming you found each other again.”

“Maybe half an hour later they realized I wasn’t in the vehicle and they hauled ass to turn around and find me.”

Zack feels the need to lighten up the mood a bit. He’s sure that what Booth just told him is something extremely personal that’s probably left him feeling vulnerable, so telling him a story from his own past might be helpful. From what Angela’s told him about interacting with other people, replicating conversation or body language is beneficial to forming a connection with someone. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot.

“One time when I was twelve, my brother thought it would be funny to prank me by taking me out of our shared tent and leaving me out on an open field in the middle of January.”

Booth does this sound like he doesn’t know if he should laugh but does anyway. “Older brother?”

“Third oldest, just by three years.”

“Sounds about right. Older brothers can be a pain in the ass like that.” The smile on Booth’s face turns mischievous. “So what happened?”

“Luckily we were only camping in the woods behind our house, but he pulled out the air mattress I was on and packed everything up just before breakfast was called,” he explains and stops for a second to brace himself. He’s not sure why he feels embarrassed telling him now and curls into the pillow. “I woke up buried in a pile of blankets and snow with a deer licking my face.”

Booth breaks out into a fit of laughter and Zack feels his face burn hot. He presses his face against the pillow in a poor attempt to hide it. Rarely does he see Booth this talkative and unabashedly open so hearing his boisterous laughter tugs at something in his chest.

“I just thought of the perfect nickname for you and it’s better than Mini Bones,” he says between gasps of air. “It’s perfect.”

Zack’s aware of that nickname, Booth’s called him as such before and he found no offense to it. If anything, it was an honor, he is her assistant after all. (Even if the name was at the expense of Dr. Brennan.) Still, he’s intrigued as to what Booth could’ve come up with so quickly.

“You did?”

Booth tilts his head away, stifling (poorly, may he add) more laughter. It’s an odd gesture to do, seeing as he’s already laughed a couple of times inside the enclosed space, but Zack says nothing and studies his features. The stretch of his neck, the slight crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, the lightly scarred tissue stretched over his knuckles and forearm as he hides his laughs behind his hand, the scrunching of his nose. He takes it all in.

He knows this won’t last. The effects of the shot will wear off by morning and everything will go back to normal. Booth will go back to ignoring him and Zack will go back to stealing little glances when they share the den during cases.

“You ready for it?” Booth regains enough breath and turns to look at him with teary eyes. “Bambi!”

Zack groans and rolls onto his back. He takes it back, he really hopes it goes back to normal after tonight so Booth wouldn’t have to call him that.

“Oh, c’mon it’s great!”

“I should’ve taken you back to Dr. Goodman. Let him deal with you.”

“Don’t be mean, Bambi.”

“Do not call me Bambi, it’s demeaning. I’m a Ph.D. student and deserve the utmost respect.”

“But you look just like him: lanky, fluffy hair, big brown eyes, long eyelashes… all the reason to call you Bambi,” he teases with a stupidly charming grin. “Y’know, you’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

Zack freezes, astounded by the comment, and unsure how to respond to something like that. Booth just said he’s cute — scratch that — he said he’s cute when he’s annoyed. He’s merely saying this to get a rise out of him. Zack opens his mouth to tell him just that but finds that Booth has already closed his eyes and is humming to himself, the notes later replaced with soft breathing within a matter of seconds.

“Booth?” Zack asks and receives a soft grunt. He can’t help but smile softly. You only have tonight, he reminds himself. And that’s fine. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Bambi.”

#bones tv #zack addy #seeley booth #forced proximity #literal sleeping together #light angst #like its barely there #getting together #getting to know each other #zack addy x seeley booth

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