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In the perfect stillness of the night, Noé holds his breath as he tries to free his arm from the dead weight trapping it down. He had endured it till now because the thought of waking Murr up was too upsetting to be worth the risk but losing the feeling in his hand made him reevaluate his priorities. Murr grunts a little at the movement, but Noé holds him in place with his free hand and manages to retrieve his arm without waking him.
The only problem is that there isn’t space left for his freed arm, cornered against the bed edge as he is. He rolls over himself, but it doesn’t really help his situation. His legs still hurt from the tension, and Noé gives up his last bit of bed ownership as he lets one swing from the bed to stretch the pain away.
He’s been at it for hours already, he knows no amount of tousling will help him fall asleep. Noé pushes his legs down with a sigh and walks towards the neighboring bed. It’s dark, but Noé’s eyes have had plenty of time to grow used to the faint moonlight.
“Vanitas,” he whispers, nudging his friend’s shoulder softly. “Are you awake?”
Vanitas turns around ready to jump on him, and Noé knows just from the way the bed cracks under his weight he’s made a mistake.
“What would you do if I say no?” Vanitas says, his voice surprisingly calm.
“Well, you answered,” Noé tilts his head in confusion. “So, you are clearly awake.”
“But you couldn’t have known that,” he yells, throwing Noé a pillow he manages to dodge in time. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Chances were I could have been sleeping, and you were so ready to jeopardize that chance even knowing how much of a problem I have falling asleep!”
“Huh? But you weren’t, you were awake,” Noé says. “Why are you getting upset over a made-up scenario?”
And it’s not like Noé had been acting on impulse. He’d heard Vanitas tousling and grunting in annoyance for the past hour, so he knew he was most likely awake. Vanitas is always very loud about minor inconveniences, maybe as a way to put others through his misery. The more meaningless the problem, the louder he gets.
The real issues, those he keeps to himself.
“Anyway,” Vanitas says. “What did you want?”
Noé scratches his nape, feeling less confident about this now that he’s actually asking Vanitas.
“Can I sleep with you?” he asks. “I just can’t sleep with Murr taking all the space.”
Vanitas pins him down with one ice-cold stare.
“Just move the cat, Noé.”
“Vanitas,” he says, a pained sound. “I can’t, he looks too cute.”
“Lord,” Vanitas groans, pushing the blankets back dramatically. “Do I have to do everything?”
He stamps his foot on the ground and Noé hurries to find him some matches and a candle, hoping to soothe his anger a bit with his aid. Standing behind Vanitas, Noé lights the bed where Murr lays sleeping on his back, taking as much space as physically possible. His round belly rises and falls with every breath he takes, and the tip of his tongue pokes out of his mouth in a comical expression.
“Fine,” Vanitas grumbles at the sight. “Sleep with me.”
Noé stares at Vanitas' expression for a couple of seconds before the realization finally sets in. It just hits Noé that he hadn’t been expecting Vanitas to actually agree. Just as Vanitas, he’d just wanted to complain to someone else. It also hits him just out of character it is—he’s never been allowed to be this close into his personal space before.
Leave it to Murr to break even Vanitas' last defenses.
“I’m clearly the victim here,” Vanitas says, jumping into his bed. “You move way too much, I can count myself lucky if I don’t end up forced into a cuddle—”
He stops himself, and his expression changes as a new idea strikes him.
“Actually, my bed my rules,” Vanitas says, throwing the blankets over the bed before Noé can get inside. “That means no touching and no cuddling, and I don’t want to get bitten in my sleep.”
“I’m not a mosquito,” Noé says, annoyed. “Your bed is not big enough anyway, how am I even supposed not to touch you?”
“I don’t know, that’s your problem,” he says, but still scoots over to leave room for Noé.
The bed is still warm from Vanitas' body, and the sheets are infused in the familiar but faint scent of Vanitas blood. It’s sweet and welcoming, and it should be perfect if it weren’t for Noé having to awkwardly arrange his body in a way that doesn’t have him casually touching Vanitas.
Noé knows he’s a restless sleeper. He doesn’t like to be restrained, even if he usually doesn’t have a problem staying still. He just doesn’t like being forced to. Now, with his arms lying flat against his sides in an unnatural position, Noé feels the energy building up in his body, tingling under his skin.
It’s the Murr situation all over again.
“This is all your fault for letting him play you like this,” Vanitas says, pointing towards Murr with his chin. “He doesn’t do that when he sleeps with me.”
“Well, it’s your fault he’s even able to fill that much space,” Noé retorts. “He’s doubled in size since I started living with you.”
“That’s got nothing to do with me,” he says. “You always feed him twice because you can’t remember whether you’d fed him or not.”
Noé can't argue with that. Not because he agrees with Vanitas, but because he doesn't have enough evidence against it to make a case.
The sound of Murr’s light snores fills the room, mocking them.
“Noé, I can feel your legs,” Vanitas says, rubbing his feet pointedly against Noé’s calf.
“What do you want me to do?” Noé pouts. “I’m tall, I have to sleep diagonally to fit in the bed.”
Vanitas cracks up at that, turning his head to laugh against the pillow. His face is so close to Noé’s shoulder that his hair tickles his neck and Noé turns his back on him to put some needed distance between them.
“Hey, did you get mad at me?” Vanitas asks, knowing Noé’s tendency to get hurt by perceived rejection. “Noé?”
Had he? Noé isn’t sure what is it that he feels. Vanitas was indeed being especially obnoxious, and it was starting to bother him. Noé skin isn’t thick enough to resist Vanitas’ slights—particularly not his. But something is different this time. He isn’t hurt, he’d just wanted to give Vanitas some space. It might be that he knows how out of his comfort zone Vanitas is right now and that hurting others is one of his many self-defense tactics, that Noé just can’t take it personally. If anything, he’s surprised this is all the resistance Vanitas has to offer.
But before he has the time to answer, there’s an arm being thrown over him and a body pressing against his back.
“What are you doing?” Noé says. “You said no cuddling.”
“Securing you,” Vanitas says, though his voice is unexpectedly gentle. “This way I make sure you can’t do anything to me,” he says as he gives Noé’s shoulder a bite to illustrate his point.
Noé’s hand grabs onto Vanitas' wrist, holding him into place. He likes this, he thinks as he melts into the hug. It’s better when Vanitas can feel like he’s in control, only then he can show an ounce of vulnerability. Noé doesn’t mind doing things in his terms if it means he can be at the receiving end of those rare sparks of affection.
This time, it doesn’t feel like being restrained, but more like being contained. Noé can’t explain where the difference lays, but he can feel it. As his eyes close, he can’t help but hope Vanitas lets him do the same for him one day. After all, it’s him who needs containment, always on the verge of shattering into pieces.
And just like that, he falls asleep.