Work Text:
Guy wasn’t expecting this night to get any worse. Things can only go so far downhill once you’d already started to freeze to death.
But of course Sam had to be a pain.
Guy had warned him, he KNEW nothing good could come from that yipping Fizzy Pop—
But of course he’d opened it, because this was Sam they were talking about.
So now they were sitting in the dark.
Sam, ever the type to ignore glaring problems in their situation, groaned happily around his food. “Those just sound delicious.”
“I will not try them in the dark,” Guy muttered sagely. “What are we gonna do now?”
“You could try your Sparkerator again!”
“What good is a blown-up invention when you can’t even see the parts of it?”
Sam let out a loud sigh. “Well, what else are we supposed to do in this cold?”
Guy glared in the direction he heard Sam’s voice coming from. “If you suggest we snuzzle for warmth again I’m gonna knock that green eggs and ham out of your hands.” (Okay, he wouldn’t, he wasn’t that mean, but still.)
Sam had mentioned snuzzling for warmth at least three times by now. Guy had politely refused each time, as he figured Sam was just messing with him. However, now that the two were faced with the grim reality of freezing in the cold night hours, Guy found himself almost unable to bear the idea of Sam suggesting it sincerely.
Sam sighed again. “I wasn’t gonna, but Guy, you gotta admit that we’re kind of out of options here.”
Guy couldn’t argue with that. The wind came on stronger, sending an audible shiver through both of them, almost as if it was telling Guy to just suck it up.
It’s not that Guy had a real issue with touching Sam. By now he’d honestly probably picked Sam up or otherwise manhandled him more times than he could count on one hand— it’s just… Different. When attention is called to it.
“Come on, Guy,” Sam’s voice called. “What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like we haven’t hugged before.”
He definitely had a point there. Guy rolled his eyes (even though Sam definitely couldn’t see the gesture), and began to make his way towards Sam’s voice. “Fine. But you and I both know we’re only in this situation because of you.”
Sam’s voice, accompanied by the sound of shuffling feet, came from a little closer. “Yeah, okay, that was sort of my fault.”
Guy gave a soft harrumph and stopped when his hand hit the bottom of the briefcase that had been sitting between them. His eyes had adjusted just slightly, now— he could barely make out the red top of Sam’s hat, bouncing along about two feet away.
Making a blind grab towards Sam, Guy felt his hand close around the smaller man’s wrist as he pulled him closer to him. Clumsily, the two tried to situate themselves, doing their best to face each other without actually touching quite yet. They seemed nearly afraid to touch, now that there was so much focus being drawn to the fact that they’d be sharing so much personal space for presumably the rest of the night.
Guy nervously broke the silence. “It’s just for warmth, Sam.”
Sam chuckled weakly. “Yeah. Totally. Two buddies snuzzling to conserve heat in a junkyard. Totally normal.”
Neither decided to acknowledge the questioning apprehension in both of their tones.
Hesitantly, Sam scooted forward until he was pressed against Guy’s side. Guy, in turn, almost instinctually wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulder, pulling him flush against his torso.
With the contact, Sam shivered. The warmth of Guy’s body sharply contrasted to the chill of the night air.
“Wow, it’s really cold, huh?” he breathed.
Sam could practically hear Guy’s eye roll. “Yes, Sam, how observational of you to notice. That’s why we’re…” Guy took a deep breath; a steady rise and fall of his chest that Sam could feel against his shoulder. “Comforting… each other…” he continued in a mumble.
Sam smiled at this, snuzzling closer to Guy. For warmth, obviously. (Hey, you couldn’t blame him! Guy was practically a walking fuzzy furnace, especially at a time like this.) “Hopefully it won’t get too much colder, or we might have to resort to, heh, different measures. For warmth.”
“Warmth, yeah, obviously,” Guy muttered absentmindedly. “Wait, other measures?”
Sam raised one hand to make a noncomittal gesture, but stopped when he realized there was about a 97% chance Guy couldn’t really see it. “Don’t worry about it, buddy. It’d have to get like, waaaaay colder for us to need to move again.”
Sam always had a way of jinxing them, though, and about an hour later, it was definitely colder.
Guy had been trying to sleep, really, it was just… well, there were a few things keeping him awake.
One thing was the cold. Dillikins, it was so cold. The wind wasn’t quite “ripping through him,” per se, but it was definitely more than a little difficult to lose consciousness when his brain kept reminding him how every part of his body (aside from a small pocket under his arm) was absolutely frigid.
The other thing keeping him up was the small pocket in question.
Sam, as Guy had found out on the train, was almost as light a sleeper as he was. He was constantly snuffling awake, snuggling around under Guy’s arm, moving his legs, you name it.
Guy had also found out on the train that Sam sometimes talks in his sleep.
So it was now, laying on the dirt with what he had no choice but to call his best friend, that Guy’s drowsiness somewhat gave way to Sam muttering to himself.
It was nothing coherent. Nonsense syllables that sounded like they were supposed to be English.
What truly made Guy awake, however, was the feeling of soft fur against his chest.
Guy still couldn’t see so well. Your eyes could only adjust so much to pitch darkness, but the feeling of Sam’s cheek on his fur, arms wrapped oh-so-slightly around him was completely unmistakable.
Sam was, evidently, not as asleep as he had initally appeared to Guy. He let out a soft hum of contentment when Guy shifted just slightly to make the two more comfortable.
Guy’s heart was thumping so loudly he was absolutely certain Sam could hear it. Guy wished he had time to be annoyed by this, but instead of the regular twinge of irritation he expected, Guy was hyperaware of his blood thundering through his veins in flustered embarrassment. Tentatively, shyly, and so, so slowly— Guy brought his arm up and around, carefully placing it on Sam’s body, pulling him up and on top of him.
He was so warm.
Guy swallowed thickly, wrapping his second arm around his friend. Sam seemed so small, like this— almost completely different from the firecracker he’d come to know over the past few days. It was incredible how much lively energy Sam contained.
Sam, still only half-awake, continued to snuggle his way deeper into Guy’s personal space, until he came to meet with Guy’s soft neck ruff, burying his face drowsily into it.
Guy barely dared to breathe.
Sam released a heavy, content sigh, practically melting against Guy. His breath tickled Guy’s chin, making him so, so aware of how close their faces were.
Guy’s thoughts were as heavy as his heart, a million flying through at once. This really wasn’t so bad. Sam was nothing short of a good hugger, even when he was barely conscious, and it was a bit of an understatement to say Guy had had a major shortage of good hugs over the past few years.
And besides, it was only one time anyways. He enjoyed the warmth— he enjoyed it a lot, actually— and there wasn’t anybody aside from Sam himself around to comment on if Guy’s hand… just… slipped… upward.
Sam gave another content sigh as he subconsciously leaned into Guy’s tender touch to the back of his head. His hat had long since been discarded, and Guy absently carded his hand through the soft fringes of fur on Sam’s face and neck.
(In another timeline, another world, maybe, Guy would’ve been too afraid of this kind of intimacy, especially with Sam. But Guy, here, was content to bask a little in the silence of the moment, the dark heightening his sensitivity to just how yipping soft Sam was.)
Guy felt a soft ruffle as Sam’s eyelids flickered, indicating him waking up (if only just), and he hummed softly. Sam sheepishly reached his arms up around Guy’s neck, fingers lightly brushing Guy’s ears. Sam smiled against Guy’s neck as he pulled himself ever so slightly upward, bringing their faces that much closer.
Sam giggled weakly. “You’re so soft…” he mumbled, the remaining dregs sleep slurring his words slightly.
Guy felt an emotion he was too scared to name surge through his veins, and he could only sit there and let it happen as Sam sleepily touched their muzzles together.
The scene only lasted a handful of seconds at most, Sam gently snuggling his face to Guy’s like a cat, before pulling away slightly. Guy could barely make it out, but something deep in his gut told him Sam was giving him a sleepy, happy grin. (This theory was confirmed when Sam tucked his head back just below Guy’s chin— he tried not to think about it, how he felt like every nerve was on fire as Sam’s smile pressed into his shoulder. How Sam seemed to fit perfectly against him, arms lightly circling his neck, fingertips oh so gently brushing his ears.)
(Something about it made Guy wonder, though, a small voice in the back of his head that hasn’t been allowed to speak since he was fifteen. Their faces had been awfully close— if Sam had been more awake, would he have done more? Would he have tilted their faces up, up, up, gently pressing his lips to Guy’s like in so many fairy tales? Or worse (better? He doesn’t know), was Sam even truly awake? Guy knew what dreams could do to you— maybe whoever Sam was dreaming about was in an exceptionally good mood.
There’s a reason that voice has been silent, though, and Guy tried to squash it back down right back where it came from.)
And yet, even though their lips didn’t touch, every part of Guy’s brain was firing with—
He couldn’t tell. He refused to tell.
Some sort of emotion was swirling through him, making Guy’s heart leap to his throat as it steadily thump-thump-thumped in time with Sam’s. He’d never experienced that kind of closeness with someone, never thought he wanted to, even, and there’s a part of him that already ached for more. A yawning pit inside of him that until now Guy hadn’t even known existed, but it was definitely there and asking for something Guy knew, but was far too scared to say.
Love.
Those seconds passed by in a daze, and Guy regretfully tried to push these definitely unnamed emotions aside.
He can think about it in the morning.
And so, with warmth filling him up inside and out, Guy closed his eyes and slept.
(When he dreams, it’s of a person’s hands, pulling him towards a better future. The body they’re attached to doesn’t have a face he can make out; he’s not sure he’d want to see it if he could.)
And then, the night ended, as all nights do, with the bright sun turning the sky a blissful pink.
Sam was the first one to wake up.
He was certain they’d been sitting up when things first started, but now they were laid down, Guy facing away from Sam, and Sam with his chest pressed against Guy’s back. Sam’s face was pressed into the soft ring of fur around Guy’s neck, and he’s too afraid to check whether the soft thing wrapped around his right hand was Guy’s elbow or his palm.
You’re spooning, his brain helpfully supplied.
Shut up, he told it back.
Guy looked surprisingly peaceful like this— his frown lines are less pronounced, and he seemed almost relaxed. The trademark hunch to his shoulders and furrow to his brow were gone, and he breathed steadily, calmly, peacefully.
The morning was still young, and the bags under Guy’s eyes were so heavy they marred his orange fur to a dull purple.
So Sam let Guy rest, still, allowing himself to enjoy the moment.
When Guy woke up, Sam wasn't really sure how much time had passed. He’d been sleepily soaking in the warmth from the rising sun and from Guy, and he also doesn’t own a watch.
Apparently, similar to Sam, Guy takes more than a few minutes to fully wake up. He breached consciousness with a signature grumble, tightening- yup, definitely his palm, that's a soft hand and dillikins, Guy is so warm- around Sam’s hand.
When Sam involuntarily shifted against Guy’s movements, Guy stretched his arms up, and Sam half expected him to wiggle away. But instead, he turned over and pulled Sam against him, nuzzling softly into the top of Sam’s head. It honestly seemed like Guy would be content to go back to sleep again, but Sam was nothing if not a comedian, and he giggled traitorously. At this, Guy’s eyes snapped open, and after a moment of processing, he pulled them just out of each other’s grip. (Sam wasn’t going to dwell on it— he’s probably just tired, not enough energy to fully fling them apart. There’s no meaning to the way Guy’s hands still sat on Sam’s shoulders like they were meant to be there, the way he didn’t abruptly tug his body out of Sam’s arms.)
Guy yawned big and loud. “What’s goin’ on?”
Son of a yip, this man was going to be the death of Sam.
Sam cracked a grin at Guy. “It appears, my friend, that we successfully survived the night.”
Guy tried and failed to hide his slightly wary expression from Sam. “Oh.”
His gaze flitted slightly to the left of Sam’s face— oh, he’s looking at his hand, he’s probably going to move— but his thumb just rubbed absently at the base of Sam’s jaw, and he met Sam’s eyes again. “Do you, uh… remember much? After we started, uh, sitting together?”
That’s… sort of a weird question to ask. He had ideas, sure— but they must’ve been dreams, because there’s no way Guy would’ve let Sam just be that close to him.
Sam made an “I don’t know” sound. “Not really. I remember sitting together, then after I fell asleep it’s… uh. Hazy.” He awkwardly averted his eyes away from Guy’s soft gaze, making a conscious effort to not lean into the hand that’s now made its way up, cradling his cheek. “I remember waking up close to you.”
Was that the wrong thing to say? Guy’s eyebrows shot up, and he made a mad grab for his hat, all but shoving it on his head, the brim covering his face. The two sat up, stretching slightly as their limbs popped.
Sam groped around for his hat, and Guy set it on his head for him. Sam pushed the brim up, and leaned towards Guy, concern etched on his face. “Why? Did I do something?”
Guy’s quick (almost too quick, even) to brush aside his worries. “No, no! You seemed very…” he trailed off hesitantly. “Relaxed.”
Sam broke into a grin. “Oh, good!”
With that, he bounded into a standing position, gleefully stretching his arms over his head. “With a good night’s rest we can figure out ways to escape.”
And as the two began to scavenge for ideas with renewed vigor, both of their thoughts drifted.
Sam was glad Guy couldn’t read his mind— it’s one thing to immediately fall head-over-heels for someone because they happened to give you the time of day, but it’s another to apparently have dreams about… Whatever last night was.
Even if Guy could read Sam’s mind right now, though, he wouldn’t— he was too caught up in his own memories of the night before.
Sam had held him so tenderly, like he was something important— even when their apparent one hope for the night blew up, Sam hadn’t berated him. He’d moved along to the next thing, like it was no big deal, like he thought that Guy could just make something new in a snap.
Like he had faith in him.
And the nuzzle— oh, Guy’s pulse sped up just thinking about it. He logically figured Sam had just been affectionately sleep-addled, but that same voice, that same feeling, still tucked the memory away close to his heart.
“Hey, Guy, look, I think I found something!”
And when Sam’s hands grabbed his, tugging him towards his latest discovery, he let himself think that maybe, just maybe, a better future awaited them. Where the one pulling him is always Sam.
Until then, though, they had a pipe to investigate.