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Proximity

Summary:

Anya and Ivan finding their own solace when they are too traumatized to sleep.

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The harsh beeping of an alarm was what snapped her from her comfortable sleep. Anya could ignore the alarm as much as she wanted to. She could not, however, ignore the form that was tangled with hers. After a pause he began shifting slowly, stretching the sleep from his muscles all the while pulling her closer. He clearly didn’t want the moment to end either but the clock on the bedside table beeped at them, reminding the two of their pressing duties outside of their little bubble.

Anya opened her eyes as the body next to her moved, reaching for the alarm and turning it off as quickly as he could so as not to disturb Misha sleeping in the bunk above them. The little boy was likely not aware that Anya had stayed the night. Anya was surprised she had done so, it wasn’t like her to reach out and open up to someone in this way.

She took in the dimly lit room, regarding the desk shared between the two boys containing a mix between small mechanical projects and Misha’s homework. Beside the desk was a small toolbox and a storage compartment. Next to that was a bookshelf she assumed to be hand-made. The books occupying the shelves ranged from basic math books to sketchbooks and mechanical engineering textbooks. Her gaze refocused back on the silhouette of the man next to her as he adjusted to face her once again.

“Morning, Freckles”, whispered the voice into her ear, rumbling with the sleep that was so hard to shake. Clearly Ivan had slept as deeply as she had, which was a nice change of pace for both of them. He settled back into the warmth of the bed and, to Anya’s slight surprise, wrapped an arm around her.

“S’well before morning and you know it,” she responded, smiling. Anya had run into him late last night. Too late for any reasonable excuse for being out of bed. Dreams of flooding waves and memories of water kept her from her room. The sick dreams wore on her subconscious so she chose to strain her body rather than her mind. As she padded through hallways, exploring the base, she rounded the corner to find the tall redhead quickly snuffing out a cigarette with the exact same high-strung look in his eyes that were likely in hers. The same unrelenting tiredness and unwillingness to be vulnerable to whatever his mind decided subject him to that night.

“Might as well be, I gotta leave for patrol soon,” she could hear the satisfied sleepiness seeping back into his voice despite his words. Anya knew he wasn’t the type to silence an alarm and remain in bed, but even she had to acknowledge that peaceful moments like this didn’t come often and were worth reveling in. He relaxed and tucked himself further into the space he had made for himself against her side, his restless yet curious fingers toying with her braid as she rested her head against his shoulder.

She was not used to being this close to another person, in fact Anya doesn’t remember being this intimately close to anyone before. Ivan’s face looked vastly different this close up. His hands and eyes were warm, almost as if they were thankful for her presence in his bed when he awoke. The worry lines that occasionally haunted his clever, attentive eyes were mostly gone. Her legs were already tangled with his and she enjoyed the mischievous grin that tugged at his mouth when she pressed her cold feet against his calves.

They hadn’t started the night in this position when they sat down on the bed several hours beforehand. Nowhere near it; they were just simply near each other, feeding off of the others' presence when he invited her in. A small lamp flickered with warm light on the bedside table, illuminating just enough for them to find a space on the small bed. Ivan and Anya shared in quiet voices about water and wraiths, careful not to raise their words above a whisper in case they disturbed Misha sound asleep above them. They spoke openly about what plagued their nights until the tension that never left their bodies seemed to ebb slowly away.

The blonde sat cross-legged on Ivan’s bed; supporting more and more of his weight as he leaned against her. She watched his hands fiddle idly with a small project he had picked up from his desk and shown her, pointing out the individual pieces, their functions, and answering any questions she tossed his way. At this point she could tell he was also buying time.

As their whispered conversation ran itself into comfortable silence, sleep called out to Anya like a siren’s song. This song was not unfamiliar to the blonde, however she knew all too well that the song contained thinly veiled dangers within its melodies. Anya was trying to keep from sagging against him, trying to stay alert out of fear of the solitude of her room and what her bed had waiting for her.

Eventually it occurred to her that Ivan was doing the exact same, and it was why he had invited her into his room. He didn’t want to be alone either. With this in mind, she accepted the contact he had initiated, reciprocating his weight with her own. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, the warm contact melting her inhibitions. After a beat she spoke, “Can I stay here tonight?”