Chapter Text
Lighter pushes open the door with the heel of his boot, stepping inside like he owns the place–because he does. “Welcome to the penthouse, Manager.”
Wise follows him in, his gaze immediately sweeping the room. It’s small, cramped, and smells faintly of gasoline. Against the wall is a couch that looks like it’s seen better days, a pile of laundry piled on top. In the middle of the room is an old bed with a sagging mattress, Above them, a broken ceiling fan spins lazily, barely stirring the heavy air.
Wise rubs his hands together as a chill seeps through his body. “Why is it freezing in here?” he mutters, shutting the door behind him.
Lighter shrugs. “Heaters don’t work anymore. Whole building’s busted.”
Wise lets out a hot breath into his hands. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
Lighter grins over his shoulder, moving deeper into the room. “Guess I run hot.”
Wise exhales sharply, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch–right on top of Lighter’s stuff.
Lighter glances at the glowing pile and smirks. “Really? Just making yourself at home?”
Wise crosses his arms, suppressing a shiver. “Hey, you’re the one who invited me to stay the night.”
Lighter chuckles, starting to strip off his outer layers. He pulls off his gloves first, tossing them onto the coffee table. He shrugs off his leather jacket, then grabs the hem of his black t-shirt and pulls it over his head, leaving his upper body exposed.
Wise catches sight of him out of the corner of his eye and immediately looks away, clearing his throat.
Lighter, oblivious–or maybe just pretending to be–rummages through the pile of clothes scattered around the room. He picks up a shirt, sniffs it, grimaces, and tosses it aside. He does this a few more times until he finds something that smells relatively clean–a simple black tank top.
“Ah, this’ll do,” he says, slipping it over his head. Without missing a beat, he kicks off his boots with two heavy thuds, then unbuttons his pants and slides out of them, leaving him in a pair of red boxers.
Wise clears his throat again, eyes firmly on the wall. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Lighter points lazily towards the back wall. “Over there. Water works. Mostly.”
“You got an extra toothbrush?” Wise asks, heading towards the back.
Lighter grins. “Nah, but you can use mine.”
Wise stops in the doorway, deadpan. “I’ll pass.”
In the bathroom, the sink sputters before producing a weak stream of water. Wise splashes his face, rinses his mouth, and lingers a little longer than necessary, shaking off the tension in his shoulders. When he returns, Lighter is sitting up against the headboard, legs stretched out, still wearing his shades like it’s the middle of the day.
Wise gives him a look. “You’re not gonna wash up?”
Lighter shrugs. “Nah, I’m good.”
Wise sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, leaving space between them. “So,” he starts, glancing over at Lighter, “Where are the others? The rest of the Sons of Calydon?”
Lighter stretches his arms above his head before letting them fall back behind his pillow. “Oh, you mean Caesar, Burnice, Piper, and Lucy?” He grins, as if amused Wise is even asking. “They’re crashing over at one of the bigger buildings near the center of Blazewood. Got a better setup there–more space, working heat, all that.”
Wise raises an eyebrow. “And you’re over here, freezing your ass off, because…?”
Lighter chuckles, leaning further back against the headboard, “I like my own space, y’know? Plus, they’re all girls. Bet they feel more comfortable without me there. Best I just stay out of their way.”
Wise huffs a small laugh. “Smart.”
Lighter grins. “Exactly.”
The room falls into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the desert outside filtering through the walls. The distant hum of Blazewood at night feels faint here, like they’re tucked away from the rest of the world.
Lighter shifts, running a hand through his hair before glancing at Wise. “You ready to get some sleep?”
Wise nods, stretching his arms briefly before pulling off his shoes. “Yeah. It’s late.”
Lighter exhales deeply, as if preparing himself. Then, he finally reaches up to his face and pulls off his shades. It’s the first time in a while Wise has seen him without them. Lighter’s eyes, sharp and expressive, catch in the dim light, making him look less like the Champion and more like… just Lighter.
Wise blinks, but doesn’t say anything. Lighter carefully places the glasses onto the nightstand, rubbing at his eyes before lying back against the headboard.
They both move to settle in. Wise pulls back the blanket and lies down on the far edge of the bed, stiff and tense, trying to keep some distance. The cold seeps into him, making his shoulders hunch up.
Meanwhile, Lighter sprawls out comfortably, taking up more than his fair share of space. He stretches one leg, causing the sagging mattress to tilt towards him.
Wise shoots him a glare. “Move over.”
Lighter smirks without even opening his eyes. “It’s a small bed, Manager. We’re gonna be cozy whether you like it or not.”
Wise sighs and stays put–until he feels the inevitable pull of gravity. The sag in the old mattress drags him down, and before long, he’s rolling towards Lighter.
Lighter, completely unfazed, chuckles lazily. “Told ya. Cozy.”
Wise shivers. “How the hell do you sleep in this icebox?”
Lighter hums as he sinks deeper into bed. “Like I said, Proxy. I run hot.”
And he does. Wise can feel it now–the warmth radiating off Lighter’s body, seeping through the minimal space between them. It’s magnetic. He shifts slightly, and their arms brush. Lighter is like a heater, and Wise can’t help but edge a little closer, pretending it’s just the sagging mattress’ fault.
Lighter doesn’t say anything. He just lets it happen.
The bed dips further, pulling Wise even closer until their shoulders touch. Then their legs. Wise exhales slowly, the warmth creeping into his limbs.
Lighter shifts slightly, his body solid and steady against Wise’s “See? Not so bad,” His voice is low, thick with sleep.
Wise hums, too tired to argue. The quiet settles around them, the desert wind a faint whisper outside. Lighter’s warmth lulls him to sleep faster than he expects, his body finally giving in to exhaustion.
Neither of them moves away.
–
Morning light filters in through the worn-out blinds, warm golden streaks stretching across the room. The air is still, thick with the lingering quiet of sleep.
Wise stirs first, rubbing his eyes as he awakens. His body feels heavier than usual, pinned by something warm, solid.
It takes him a second to register–Lighter is practically buried against him.
He freezes.
Lighter’s face is tucked into the crook of his neck, breath slow and steady against his skin. One arm is slung across Wise’s back, the other resting securely on his hip, fingers curled loosely into the fabric of his shirt.
Wise exhales through his nose, staring at the slowly spinning ceiling fan as he processes his.
He shifts slightly, just enough to test if he can move. Lighter’s grip tightens, just a little, like a reflex. The answer is no .
After a beat, he tries again. He nudges him. “Lighter.”
Nothing.
He sighs, shaking him a little. “Hey. Get up.”
Lighter groans into his neck, nuzzling in slightly. He mumbles something before grumbling. “Five more minutes…” His grip doesn’t loosen, like his content where he is.
Wise furrows his brow. “Lighter…”
“Please…” Lighter squeaks out, barely audible. His grip tightens.
Wise sighs, more resigned than annoyed. The warmth is nice, and… he isn’t in a hurry to move either.
After a pause, he mutters, “Fine. Five more minutes.”
Lighter hums in quiet victory, already half-asleep again.
Wise lets out a slow breath, staring up at the broken ceiling fan. Still trapped, but not minding it as much as he probably should.
He shifts slightly, just enough to get comfortable again. His eyes drift shut.
Five more minutes can’t hurt.