Chapter Text
You start stirring from sleep as the heavy arm thrown over your waist draws back, dragging over your side. You feel Frederick’s breath becoming labored as it hits the back of your neck. But it wasn’t until the arm under your pillows was pulled away roughly that you finally come to full awareness, your head dipping against the soft material.
You sigh as you open your eyes, scanning the dark room and making out the outlines of your furniture. Sharing a bed with Frederick was a venture you were still getting accustomed to. You were starting to spend lot of nights together, with you usually staying at his place. You figured he felt more comfortable there, but you like it when he’s the one that stays over. He’s a curious if nosy person, he’d ask about the objects and books on your shelves which you were always happy to talk about. You found him snooping around you kitchen cabinets once after he went to get a glass of water. It won’t be surprising to you if he poked around your dresser’s drawers when you were showering. You kind of hoped to catch him at it to scold him. But he does look very cute when he falls asleep in your couch and you like when he sits at the kitchen bar, providing conversation as you prepare something to eat. He always offered to help at the beginning, but soon noticed the cramped kitchen space worked better and faster with your solo operation.
You can’t help but roll your eyes when his toes poke the back of your legs sharply. While you didn’t mind a restless sleeping partner, you’ve been told you do your fair share of twitching and kicking, Frederick was by far the most fidgety you’ve had. It wasn’t so much the moving but the grabbing, pulling, and hugging that went on. You’ve been woken a couple of times by him pressing his face to yours as you laid on your back, and mumbling against your jaw or neck. You could never make out what he was saying. When you’d turn away to get comfortable he would just follow suit, still asleep, draping his arm over your waist or hitching his leg over yours. Sometimes both and all you could do was sigh and settle in resignation, trapped and warm.
It wasn’t too bad. Sweet, if exasperating. It’s like asleep he’s all the clingy he wanted to be while awake
You frown as he continues shifting beside you, hard enough to shake the mattress lightly. A loud whimper makes you turn around to check on him. You find him on his back, sweating with his face shining and contorting in expressions of pain, illuminated by the night lights that come through your window.
His hands clutch the sheets and a loud gasp from him startles you. “No…please,stop…”
You sit up quickly, worried. “Frederick?”
But he doesn’t seem to respond, he’s sweating profusely now and continues whining. “Please, don’t do this…”
Seeing him so clearly distressed unnerves and worries you. You reach to touch and shake his shoulder, wanting him awake and calm. “Wake up, Freddy.” You say as soothingly as possible.
The touch startles him more than anything, one of his arms swinging in your general direction making you squeak in surprise and jump back to avoid getting hit. Fortunately, it was enough to wake him. His eyes open quickly and he’s sitting up like a shot, panting and looking down at his hands and stomach.
“Are you okay?” You ask tentatively, looking him over.
He turns to you, surprised and scared. His eyes frantically scan the dark space behind you. “Where…” A question hangs on his lips as he tries to catch his breath, his body twitches as he shivers.
“You’re in my apartment in Laurel Tower. You had a nightmare.” You provide softly, hoping that’s what he means and moving your body closer to his.
His features twist in sadness and he turns his body away sharply, throwing the bed sheets off his legs and moving to stand up. You reach to grab his arm, “Stay.”
He pulls his arm away. “You don’t tell me what to do.” His voice is raspy and angry, but he remains seated at the edge of the bed.
“Yes, fine, I just don’t want you to leave like this.” You say quickly, drawing your hand back.
You’re left staring at his back, not sure what to do. He lets his head hang low; looking at his hands until his shoulders begin to shake. At the sound of his sobs, you shift closer, kneeling behind him. His sobs sound ragged, like their pulling painfully at his throat as he tries ineffectively to hold them in. He brings a hand to cover his eyes and he folds a little more into himself. The evident misery in his cries causes a painful pang in your chest; you had never seen him like this. While you suspected he carried around his sadness and insecurities in a barely contained coffer, it made you terribly upset to see it all so openly displayed.
Your hand hovers over his shoulder for a moment before you lower it and rub a little. When he doesn’t pull or push you away, you lean your front to his back and sneak your arms under his. You wrap your arms around his chest and keep from touching his stomach, knowing he was still sensitive about it. His shirt is damp with sweat and you can feel the jolts of his body as he cries. Pulling him to you and rubbing your hand on his chest reassuringly, you place your chin on his shoulder. You hadn’t a lot of experience with dealing with nightmares, but you knew comfort and affection can go a long way. His other hand grabs one of yours and holds it tightly against him.
“You’re safe here, Frederick. Everything’s okay.” You speak softly into his ear, hoping those were the right words to say. You let him hold your hand and you move the other to caress his forearm. It’s not long before he’s quieting down, sniffing and calming his breathing. He drags the hand on his face roughly over his cheeks to wipe the tears away.
“Maybe I should leave.” He says weakly, his voice raspy.
You tighten your embrace, “Only if you really want to. I’d like you to stay and come back to bed.”
He nods and turns toward you, keeping his head low and hugging you back toward the mattress before you can look at his face. You maneuver both to rest on your sides with a little difficulty, and pull the sheet to cover your bodies. He tucks his face between your head and shoulder, his breath warm and damp against the skin of you throat. You rest your cheek slightly on his head.
You continue to rub his back. “Do you want to talk about it?” You ask tentatively.
“No.” His voice is watery and his arms are tight around you.
“That’s alright.” You hold him close. You wait for him to relax, but he remains tense. Not baring the thought of him dwelling in shadows in your arms, you opt to distract him.
“You know what we ought to do tomorrow?”
You wait until he makes a little questioning noise.
Satisfied with having his attention, you continue. “There’s a little town on the way to York, like 30 minutes out of the city, where they serve these amazing sandwiches. Near is a big field that should be full of wild flowers now, given the time of year. We could grab something to eat and hang out by the roadside; it would be a good change of scenery. Just eat and talk, you know, what we usually do but with nature.”
As you spoke you felt the tension leave him, hopefully imagining what you were saying.
“Sounds nice.” He mumbles. His hold on you was softening.
“Thought maybe we shouldn’t linger too much at the dinner, I got banned from it. It’s been doubling as the town’s only karaoke club for years, you see, and I may have once had too many cuba libres when visiting Ivan one summer in college. ”
“And?” You were glad to hear the amusement in his voice.
“And what’s a girl to do when they put You spin me round, but get on the bar and show appreciation?”
“And?”
“And I twisted my ankle and fell on the bartender, who was also the owner, and he broke a finger.”
He chuckles. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“Apparently there’s a picture and everything. They have like a wall of shame and Ivan went recently and told me it’s there.”
His chest shakes with laughter.
“I’m rather peeved actually, that he didn’t demand to take it down. Traitor.”
“I want to see it now.”
You smile, having reached your goal of pleasant distraction, and you pull away slightly to look at him. His face is still puffy from crying, but you don’t point it out. He looks terribly timid and vulnerable. He rests his head next to yours on the same pillow, avoiding looking at you directly.
You caress his cheek. “We got plans for tomorrow then.”
He sighs and musters a small smile while raising his eyes.
“Can I have a kiss?” He asks.
You move closer and kiss him languidly, brushing his hair with your fingers, until he’s sighing contently. Turning to lay on your back, you pull on his arm to get him to rest against you. Soon your breathing falls in synch with one another's and you both find sleep.
--
Frederick wakes up to the smell the coffee.
Lying on his stomach, he buries his face in the soft pillow contently and snuggles into the bed sheets. Coffee? The only times he wakes up to the smell of it is when he falls asleep at his desk and his secretary takes the time to check on him and bring him a cup.
His eyes shot open to realize he was at your place, and he sighs in relief. He shifts a little to look at the door and sees it half open, no wonder the smell was so powerful. Also, he notices you’re up and about before him, which is a rarity. He turns on his back and covers his face with his hands as he feels a wave of embarrassment because of last night.
He wasn’t sure what could have triggered the nightmare, his week had been alright. It was probably the stress from the argument yesterday with one of the hospital therapists, about the drugs being administered in treatment to a shared patient. He can’t believe he cried like that in front of you, but his mind had taken him back to the observatory with Gideon. Freddie Lounds wasn’t there this time. He cringes thinking about the dream and touches his stomach underneath the sheets.
When the surgeon cut into him, he felt it vividly. Abel kept tossing everything he found inside him over his shoulder. He simply left when he finished, leaving Frederick alone, floating in the dark. He lifted his hands to his stomach only to find an empty, gaping hole in his middle. There was nothing but blood. He had nothing.
He never had anyone be there when a nightmare happened. Always waked up alone and scared. That’s why his first reaction was to leave once awake, aware that all he could do in that moment was cry. He didn’t want you to see him like that; it was so weak of him. But you had been terribly sweet. He didn’t expect such care, when you hugged him he didn’t feel so stupid anymore. Holding someone's hand helped him ground himself faster than he could alone. You held and soothed him, even tried to distract him. You made him feel wanted and cared for, which is what he needed the most. He feels a rush of warmth thinking about it and gratefulness at your actions. It isn’t often Frederick Chilton feels gratitude toward anyone. He just hoped you didn’t think any less of him.
His stomach grumbles in hunger, and he wonders what you’re setting up for breakfast. Reluctantly leaving the warm cocoon of blankets, he heads to the bathroom. He took his time washing his face and teeth, gathering the strength to face you since (while he liked it) he still wasn’t crazy about the idea that you had to cradle him to you like a child last night.
Unhurriedly he crosses the hallway and peeks out to scan the rooms. He spots you fetching jars of jam and honey from the top kitchen cabinet. You were looking pretty soft and rumpled from sleep in a light robe.
“Good morning.” You smile as you turn around to place the jars on the kitchen bar.
He still feels a flush of embarrassment but wades through it as he walks to the kitchen. “Hello”
He looks over the spread you’ve laid out on the bar, fresh croissants, honey, butter and a selection of jams. He hums approvingly at the ripe, washed peaches in the center. “How are you feeling?” You ask, giving him a chaste kiss and handing him a porcelain mug with black coffee.
He sits next to you at the bar and smiles as you move the stool you’re sitting on closer. “Better.”
You nudge the sugar jar in his direction. He clears his throat as he starts adding sugar to his coffee.
“I’m sorry about last night and…uh, wanted to thank you for b-being there...for me.” He focused on stirring his drink, feeling his cheeks warm. He can’t help but cringe at the words, they feel so cheesy in comparison to what he feels.
You grab and squeeze the hand he had on his thigh. “You’re welcome, Frederick, and don’t apologize for a nightmare. It’s something you can’t control.”
He flips his palm upward to grasps your hand gently. Keeping his eyes on the swirling dark liquid, he continues.
“Sometimes I dream about what happened at the observatory. It had been a while actually. It’s usually a replay of the…incident. With a few variations, sometimes it’s just me and Gideon, or Lounds and Crawford are there. Sometimes I’m strapped to the table, or I’m free but paralyzed.” He gulps and takes a breath, “But it always ends the same ways, with me bloodied, scared and alone. I hate it, makes me feel weak.”
He finished in a whisper and he could feel the weight of you stare. He may have said more than he originally intended to. “There’s no shame in feeling scared, especially with what happened to you. You’re stronger than you think, Frederick. You’re not weak.”
Your free hand reaches to caress his cheek and turn his face to you. “Thank you for sharing about your dreams. You're always welcomed to talk to me about them when you need to.” You say and your smile is sweet, not pitying.
He feels ridiculous at the surge of feeling and gulps against the knot in his throat. Leaning close he presses his lips to yours eagerly, he moans softly as you kiss back.
Pulling away, he smiles shyly and turns to the bar to have breakfast. He reaches for a croissant, pulls it apart and dunks one of the pieces into his coffee. He bites into it and smirks. “I believe…” He starts, talking around his mouthful before swallowing. “ You promised to show me a very unflattering picture of yourself today.”
You freeze reaching for the strawberry jam. “Damn it, you remember. I promised nothing.” Your dramatic tone makes him smile as he takes another bite and watches you lather a croissant with the red sweet.
“It’d make me happy.”
“Of course it would.” You respond quickly, refusing to look at him.
He nudges your leg with his to get your attention and puts on his best pouting face.
“Don’t look at me like that.” You try but fail to not glance his way.
You stare at him and he relishes in the soft darkening of your cheeks as you give in.
“Fine.” He smirks as you slump in defeat.
“Enjoy it while you can, Frederick. I’m building immunity to that face.”
He attempts to look innocent as he sips his coffee.