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Otis awoke with a start.
Scared, bewildered, disoriented.
It took all but half a minute for him to realize that he was in his office chair, his laptop still turned on with the screen glowing. At some point during the night while he was doing homework, he had nodded off to sleep.
Across the room from where his desk was facing stood a cell containing one of Newground’s biggest threats to society. Except, seeing as the prisoner in question had his last sleep three days ago, it’s no surprise that he’s curled up on his border cot, hugging the pillow.
If tonight hadn’t been plagued by a nightmare, the kid cop would’ve mentally called Piconjo a snuggle bug. And he swore he heard a subtle rumbling reverberation coming from the cell. Bogus as Hell, Piconjo must be having a better dream than the kid tonight.
Otis sighs, looking around for his Alien Hominid plush, finding it, and hugging it tightly.
Grandpa is away during the night shifts, so he can’t go asking him for a hug right now.
~~
Out on probation, and the Uber Kids still thought it was a wise idea to attack the kid cop while Piconjo was around. While Otis is very much capable of taking care of himself, whether it’s on the clock or after hours, this particular mob came to him just as he was feeling at his most insecure.
And Piconjo, once again, reminded everyone who is lucky to survive why he is dangerous. Especially to the ill prepared that met their end to the edge of Hell Raiser. Yet another bath might be needed once they return to the manor.
Piconjo feels a tug at a wrist. With instincts still running at an all time high, he pulls his hand away quickly.
“What?” he quips with a glare.
“Can I have a hug?”
Piconjo shook his head, returning the bloody Hell Raiser to his scabbard strapped across his back. “I’m not your grandpa, kid. Don’t ask me again.”
Otis looked despondent at that reply, and it almost felt like a kick to the undead’s heart.
“Whatever happened to ‘Piconjo <3s J00’?”
At this, the tall ginger leans down to get in Otis’ face. “N0 h0m0.” was his reply before standing up, feeling his spine give a pop or two as he did, before walking away. “We don’t want to be around when backup shows for the crime scene, especially since j00 were involved.”
There’s a time and a place to show weakness. And this is a really bad time for Otis to be giving off such vibes.
~~
It was Piconjo’s turn to watch tonight, this being his second day since his last sleep. And the kids were already out like a light.
Where else was there to go? Thanks to the power of the improbability drives, the sun never shines in Nevada, the Icon of Sin. Without the sun, the cold nights were especially unforgiving, even when it still gets warm during the sunless days. And with very few things that are flammable, the trio of Newground dwellers were running low on firewood.
Not that Otis, Piconjo, and Alucard intended to spend the last week or so camping out in the middle of nowhere, away from any decent shelter devoid of hostile entities to stab and shoot. But getting ambushed by Nevadeans, crashing a nightclub that the Toadies were hanging out at, and the inevitable encounter with the homicidal maniac best known as Hank have left the trio seeing better days.
Especially Otis. Piconjo could see the kid shivering in his sleep as Otis curled up as tightly as he could on the ground, taking care not to rest on his bandaged arm before sleep overtook him. One thing Hank didn’t count on was the little cop using his arm to shield himself from an impalement that would have gone for the heart. The maniac planned to hack off the kid’s injured arm and try again for a second fatal stab had the tall ginger not shown up on time. Another shiver, and Piconjo finally made the decision to take off his leather coat, and drape it over the other’s shoulder.
~~
Otis awakes with a jolt.
Another nightmare.
An additional shock of pain jars him out of his sleep as he blinks the sticky sensation from his eyes, looking at his bandaged arm. It is then that he notices that he has Piconjo’s jacket around him. So, that’s why he doesn’t feel so cold anymore?
He sits up, making sure the leather jacket doesn’t fall from his shoulders, starting to shiver and wince. Another minute’s silence, and the ginger finally notices him.
“What are j00 doing up?” he grunts, glancing at the kid.
“Nightmare…” Otis mumbles, looking at the grains of sand on the otherwise hard ground.
“Guess j00 won’t be able to sleep for a while, huh?”
Piconjo redirected his attention to the horizon, keeping an eye out for any Nevadean zeds that could rise and attack them during the night. Otis shook his head, the motion barely caught in the ginger’s peripheral view.
“Can I have a hug?”
It was a weak cry for comfort, but it still made Piconjo roll his eyes.
“Kid, what did I say last time j00 asked me?”
“I-I know, b-but…”
“Give me one good reason why I should let j00 this time?”
After all this time, Piconjo still wants to preserve his pride, in a land where anyone that approaches them still wants them dead? Otis pouts a little, his fatigued mind able to pull up a list of things to complain about, considering that the convict asked for it.
“Because I’m tired, hungry, cold, sore, and wounded. We’re far away from home, and I find out, right before bed time, that I’m a wanted criminal in Newgrounds for crimes I didn’t commit, because we’ve been dilly-dallying in Nevada this whole time. And now, I’ve woken up from a nightmare and on the brink of tears here… please, I really need a hug…”
A sigh escapes the ginger. Okay, fair point. He himself, and Pico, have both been through hoops, hurdles, and hardships. From fighting alien posing as goths to puppets pretending to be malicious admins of Newgrounds. While Otis has had his fair share of fights, he hasn’t endured as many as his cousin. And, at the end of the day, Otis is still just a kid.
“Alright. C’mere.” Piconjo relents. But just as the kid starts crawling over, he holds up a hand. “On one condition only; N0 h0m0?”
Otis pauses, before nodding again. “N0 h0m0.” He’s able to echo in the weird accent of L33t speak. Permission granted, he gets settled, hugging the taller as he closes his eyes. He didn’t count on Piconjo returning the hug. Despite Piconjo’s lack of body warmth, some obvious places where bone protrudes skin and muscle, and the scent of dry blood, Otis was soon out like a light again.
‘Ah, sh1t…’ Piconjo thinks, feeling his eyelids heavy, ‘This is night two, how come I’m fatigued as fuck all of a sudden?’ A quick glance around, he finds a pebble, and tosses it at Alucard, the rock bouncing off the former goth’s forehead.
“Hey, Blindeyes. It’s j00r turn to keep watch. I’m done.”
Who knew a ball of warmth from his bro would bring sleep time a night closer than expected?