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Colin has a habit of being handsy with Stefan, and Stefan can’t find it in himself to mind. Honestly, it keeps him rooted to reality. Keeps him sane.
When he finds himself lost in a spiral with his heart racing, Colin'll wrap a pair of strong arms around him, pull him against his chest and soothe him with gentle physical reassurances. When Stefan can breath again, Colin wipes the tears and strokes his face.
It’s a bit different when they’re in public. When his eyes twitch at Thakur’s long-winded conversation, fingers slowly curling into frustrated fists, it’s the soft brush of a thumb over Stefan’s knuckles under the desk and a reassuring smile.
Thankfully, though, they’re safe at home right now. Safe and high as hell, that is, with Stefan is draped over Colin rather ungracefully and one arm hanging off the side of the couch. His leg had wrapped around Colin’s own at some point, though he can’t remember doing it for the life of him — he blames it on the weed. He’s more than a little fucked, having smoked a relatively fatter joint than he was used to.
(“You’re smoking more often, now, love. You’ll be fine. Maybe one day you’ll do cocaine like a proper grown man.”)
Colin lazily strokes his fingers through Stefan’s hair, a pleasant relaxation spreading through the shorter programmer’s limbs like a soft blanket as he hums in contentment. He stretches out a bit, head tilting back into Colin’s touch in a silent request for him to never stop.
Stefan knows that as much as he needs this, Colin needs it too. That contact, it’s the concrete evidence that they’re both here together, finally. There’s been many timelines without these little moments of love, instead replaced with moments of grief, of failed paths and dead bodies and blood on Stefan’s hands, the weight of the trophy in his hand as he was forced to bash Colin’s head in —
“Stefan. I can hear you thinking.” He playfully flicks his forehead. “Stop it.”
Surprising Colin for once, Stefan says what’s on his mind. Perhaps it’s the drugs.
“Did it ever scare you?”
Colin knocks the ash off the end of the joint and stubs it out with one hand, the other still playing with familiar brown curls. “Hm?”
“D-Dying.” He swallows, bites at his lip. “Did it scare you? Leaving everything behind?”
Stefan’s voice is soft, but not withdrawn. He’s totally in the moment for once, Colin notes, a rare occasion for the one infamous for getting stuck in his own head. Colin is equally guilty of that, though, so he can’t fault Stefan for it.
“No.”
Stefan’s eyes widen. “No?”
“Because I know the universe brings me back to you. And you’re my everything.”
Lips curling into a smile, Stefan curls up closer to Colin, feeling hopeful in this run being their good ending.