Work Text:
You alright?” Criken looked up from his shoes at the sound of a voice. Standing before him was Bed with a concerned look on his face. The fact that the other came looking for him right after he walked away from the game was.. touching.
He smiled tiredly and nodded. His back was pressed to the wall, the weight of his shoulders being the only thing keeping him from sliding down into a seated position. “Yeah, I’m good.. just… drank a lot, you know?”
Bed gave him an all-too knowing look as he approached. Both of them had certainly had their fill of whatever concoctions ‘barbecue dad’ had been mixing all night and were quite buzzed. He didn't say anything for a while. Instead, Bed just stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder.
The silence was a nice contrast to the loud voices carrying from the game still going on and Criken leaned his head back. A content smile curled across his features. “Bed..” He whispered. The name falling from his lips like a secret to be shared only between the two of them.
“Yeah?” Bed replied back just as quietly. He tilted his head in indication that he was listening but otherwise didn't take his eyes off the wall in front of them.
“Thanks for coming out. You didn't have to and a part of me feels like I sort of forced this whole streaming get together without really thinking it through. I mean, shit, Buck spent almost all night under a table because of my lack of planning and-”
His drunken ramblings were cut off by a soft laugh. Criken’s mouth snapped shut immediately and he looked over at the other. So often, he was roleplaying with faux voices and accents that it almost jarring hearing the man’s real laugh. It was always a breath of fresh air.
Bed let his head rest on his shoulder as his laughter slowly subsided. “I didn't come here because I felt an obligation to the stream. I didn't reveal my face at RTX cause I felt an obligation to Rooster Teeth. I didn't agree to form Sideshow because I felt an obligation to creating a brand.”
“If you say you did it cause you feel obligated to me, that's not going to make me feel-”
“I did it cause I wanted to.” Bed cut in again, a bit louder this time. Only once he was sure Criken’s drunken train of thought had been halted, he continued. “I did it because Tomato, Buck and all those other lunatics in the other room are just as fucked up as you and me and I love it. I feel content around all of you.”
Criken let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and nodded dumbly, not knowing what to say. Luckily Bed did. He always seemed to know.
“And yeah, it's scary. I'll be the first to admit it. So many people at one time, it's nerve wracking to be sure.” True to his words, Bed had an elated (if a bit drunk) smile on his face and he gently ran his fingers across the back of Criken’s hand. “But alongside that nervousness, I feel a sense of belonging. It's kind of exciting in a way.”
The soft graze of warm fingers sent a thrill of heat to Criken's face and without even hesitating, his grip on the wall beside him loosened enough to allow their fingers to intertwine. It was soft and hesitant, almost like testing new waters but felt all too familiar at the same time. It felt like deja vu.
Criken looked over at Bed, who had gone quiet, his ears looking much more red than they had been moments ago. He let out a happy hum in the back of his throat. “Belonging...” He repeated, eying their interlocked hands. Was that the word for how he felt? Belonging.
Late night skype calls. Talking about absolutely nothing and yet saying so much. It's so strange finding someone who knows you so well. “Same time tomorrow Bed?”
Laughing until they were crying, red faced and gasping for breath. “Holy fuck, do that again Buck.” They could write a whole book about each other, and that was before they even met face to face.
Tomato’s ground down patience finally snapping, leading to the rest of them pointing fingers and shifting blame like children in front of their parent. “Just one more round. I mean it this time guys. No more ‘just one more round’ after this.”
They certainly were a mixed bag of tricks. A magicians hat so full of voices, bits and personalities that sometimes even they got lost in their own worlds. But who better to take into that world of madness than another of the mad itself?
Was that belonging? Finding people who could take as much and dish it back ten folds?
Criken gave Bed’s hand a squeeze, feeling the gesture returned mutually. “I think I know what you mean..” He murmured, eyes closing in contentment. He stood there just basking in the quietness, the sounds of the rest of the group muffled in the other room. He didn't acknowledge the sound of steps coming around the corner.
But Bed did. He looked up as Buck stepped into view, prepared for undoubtedly loud gleeful noise that would come out at the sight of the two of them together. But instead Buck held a finger up to his lips in the universal shushing motion and gave them both a wink. He rocked back and forth on his heels, his blue sneakers making squeaking noises at the motion.
Criken opened a single eye and glanced over at Buck. He smiled at the younger man's antics and gave him a wave with his free hand. “Shit, I guess we better head back before more people begin wondering where we are..”
“It's kind of counterproductive to a stream when the streamer isn't there.” Buck practically chirped, looking awfully sober for a man who had been drinking under a table all night.
“Too be honest, I kind of lost interest in the game after the second mix up with the cards.” Criken admitted with a sheepish grin, pushing his weight off the wall.
“Yeah, it’s getting kind of late anyways. I'm thinking of calling it a night too.” Bed agreed, shifting his weight off Criken as he stood up properly. “Easy to head back?”
Criken gave their hands one last squeeze before slipping away from the warm contact. “Let's wrap up the stream then.” Looking back, he caught a glimmer of longing in Buck’s eyes at the sight of their hands parting.
Next time. His mind whispered temptingly.
Next time.