Work Text:
Vernon stood in his nightshirt, downing a glass of cold water at the kitchen counter top. The black marble mirrored a faded reflection of his blank face. Hair even more tousled than after sweaty training sessions he remembered so well, face pale despite the natural tan.
He rested his palms on the marble. At least the cool surface helped calm his heart rate down.
The nightmares had happened so often that he wasn’t surprised anymore when he jolted awake sweating like a swine in bed. The umpteenth time it occurred, he went to see a doctor.
He could spell out the details as they flickered in his mind. Every turn he made, every thousand thuds of horses behind him, haunting his consciousness. His own heartbeat pounded in his head.
Then, they always ended with a spear notched through his chest, perfectly penetrating the Temerian crest on his cloak.
Vernon shuddered. His head dizzy, he sunk on a couch. The leather sighed as he flipped on his back and tucked his feet under his knees. An arm shielded his face from the world, although it was dark already. Perhaps it was midnight, or maybe an hour right before dawn.
His breaths had deepened and he was almost sleeping again when he felt a dip near his legs.
“You should think of better lies, Roche. What is it this time, you just ‘can’t sleep’?”
A gruff voice brought him back to the unforgiving world, but he didn’t move his arm away.
“And why the fuck are you here?”
He admitted that he did a poor job of hiding the nightmares from Iorveth even before they moved in together. Then now, it wouldn’t be deniable anymore, would it? Elf prick was always a keen observer.
“Look,” Iorveth started. “You are safe here with me, and the war we went through will never repeat again, except in your dreams.”
Vernon was a stubborn shell, but deep inside he appreciated the guardianship his past enemy provided - it was still difficult to admit it.
He felt a hand traced his stomach, probably due to his lack of reply. Gently, it travelled up, then down. Vernon itched to wrench it away or maybe bite it, but goddamn the pills were actually making him groggy.
“-uck off.” he croaked.
Iorveth’s voice then sounded as if he was smiling.
“This place is mine, remember?” he slipped his fingers beneath Vernon’s cotton shirt.
Iorveth’s digits felt cold on his skin as though they were dunked in freezing water. Vernon jostled as reflex, and Iorveth sneaked yet another icy hand around his waist.
“Shh,” the elf cooed. What was supposed to make him calm down, Vernon had no idea.
“Shit-“ he spat instead.
Contemplating jumping to the adjacent couch for the sake of a peace of mind, the intention was voided by an attack of sloppy, slow kisses on his neck.
“Goddamnit. The fuck you want?” He complained half-heartedly, pulling his cheek from Iorveth’s head, but it only bared more skin for the attacker.
“Do you take me for a fool?” Their gaze met finally, and Vernon didn’t expect to see such seriousness in the streaks of basil. He thought Iorveth was drunk.
As an answer to his question, Vernon obviously thought not, but why should Iorveth worry when he himself was fine with it?
When the elf didn’t get a reply, he spoke again.
“You’re hopeless. You speak in your sleep.” he shook his head. “Don’t tell me that I don’t have any idea.”
“Just let me sleep, won’t you?” he scoffed at the elf’s show of worriness.
Immediately Vernon felt nails dug into his stomach as if to warn him of the commander’s attitude, and then they raked their way up his chest. He struggled when a hand cupped his jaw, until Iorveth’s lips smudged against his cheek quite swiftly. Lovingly.
“Just go to sleep, I’ll be here, stiff-ass commander.” the elf whispered.