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Drix locked the door behind him, carefully putting his keys down so as not to wake Ozzy. The night out with Maria had been terrific and left him bubbling with leftover happiness. Strangely, the white blood cell hadn’t wanted to attend the party with them and said he wanted to have a night in. Drix worried that he was sick and had told Ozzy that he would stay home if he wasn’t feeling well. The cell insisted he go out and have a good time. And by Hector, he did.
The cold pill floated over to the kitchen to grab some juice from the fridge. Just as he was about to go to the bathroom to change into his sleep wear, he heard a strange sound. At first he thought he’d imagined it. He collected his items, pausing for a moment to listen. All he heard was the soft breathing from his partner, curled under his blankets. Shrugging his broad shoulders, the pill went about his business, finishing his bathroom routine quickly in order to go to sleep.
As soon as his head hit the pillow, he heard it again. Now that it was quieter he began to get an idea of where it was originating from. He rolled over to get a good look at Ozzy, squinting in the semidarkness. The sheets were wrapped tightly around the cell, his pillow on the floor. Every few seconds he would shift, his breaths coming out sharp. He seemed aggravated.
Sighing, Drix roused himself, leaning over the white blood cell to shake his shoulder.
As soon as he made contact, the cell pushed against him, mumbling nonsense. Drix shook his shoulder again, softly calling his name in a renewed effort. Ozzy flinched, a sudden burst of movement in the dark. He moved up to the corner of his bed, his back pressed against the panel it was propped against. His panicked gaze landed on Drix, but he still didn’t relax.
Drix let his hand drop in surprise.
Sure, they’d both had their fair share of nightmares, but never anything this bad. Ozzy seemed genuinely scared. Drix didn’t close the space between them, giving the cell a chance to catch his breath.
Osmosis was clutching at his sleep shirt, eyes glued to Drix’s chest, blinking rapidly as though to banish the afterimages of his bad dream. Eventually his breathing evened out and he could finally look Drix in the eyes again.
“D-Drix?”
The cold pill slowly moved towards his partner, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Yes?” He didn’t miss how Ozzy pulled his feet even closer to his body, making himself small.
“You okay?”
The question threw Drix off guard. He wasn’t the one who just woke from a nightmare. Why would Ozzy ask him this? “I’m fine, Ozzy. Shouldn’t I be the one asking you if you’re okay?”
Jones dropped his head onto his knees.
Drix scooted closer to him. “…Are you okay?”
A sniffle escaped from Jones. Drix’s eyebrows shot up in concern. He was about to ask again when the cell was a sudden rush of shapes moving in the dark. His arms wrapped around Drix’s shoulders, his face buried in the crook of what would be Drix’s neck.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, bud.”
Reflexively, Drix pulled his own arms up around Jones’s form. He was glad to be getting some kind of reaction from the cell, but he was still confused. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Ozzy shook his head against Drix’s neck plate. “I had a nightmare. It’s… not important.”
Drix tried to wriggle back to peer at Ozzy’s face. He was doing an awful good job at hiding from his gaze though. “Ozzy, it is important. But I’m perfectly fine! It was only a dream.”
“It seemed so real.” A shudder ran through the cell. Drix rubbed his back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “I thought I’d lost you.”
The effort to see Ozzy’s face resurfaced. Drix pulled Jones back enough to catch a glimpse of his features. His brows were set low over his eyes, a wetness lingering there. Drix couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Ozzy cry. Had he seen him cry before? Drix’s heart broke at the sight. He kept his hand planted on Ozzy’s shoulder, gently rubbing a circle into the cloth of his shirt with his thumb.
“You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”
“I know… It’s dumb, ha.” The laugh was humorless. Ozzy wouldn’t meet the pill’s gaze. “Sorry, man, you can go to sleep. You’re probably exhausted from tonight.”
Drix didn’t move. “Actually, I’m wide awake at the moment. Nothing to fret over.”
Ozzy tried to pull away from Drix, but unfortunately for him, Drix was much stronger and kept a solid hold. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re upset and I don’t mind helping you. I’m here for you, Ozzy, just as you are for me.” Drix smiled at Ozzy, even if he wasn’t looking.
“But it’s dumb, it ain’t even a real problem!” Ozzy slumped forward, his forehead resting on Drix’s chest.
“I think it’s a real problem if it’s causing you to lose sleep.”
Jones didn’t respond right away.
Drix resumed rubbing circles into Ozzy’s back, humming a light tune. Before he knew it, Ozzy was snoring against him, his cheek pressed into the fabric of Drix’s shirt. Drix helped lay Jones down into his bed, arranging the sheets and plucking the pillow from the floor. Shaking off any dust from it before pushing it under Ozzy’s head, he then pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. Admiring his handiwork, Drix was about to return to his own bed when a hand loosely caught his wrist. He raised a brow at the cell.
“Stay, would ya?”
At first Drix was confused by the request. He was staying, wasn’t he? But then as Ozzy shimmied over to make room, it clicked into place. Ah, he wanted Drix to stay in the bed. A simple solution to Ozzy’s persistent nightmares.
He pretended to complain about the situation, claiming Ozzy’s bed was uncomfortable when Ozzy dragged him down under the sheets.
“Ah shut up, big guy. You know you love it.” Ozzy sleepily mumbled, curling up against the pill. Drix wasn’t going to lie; he did love it. Despite his outward appearance, he loved to be near those he cared about. Cuddling was a fantastic way to relax. Especially with his partner.
“Can’t argue with you there.”
“Mhm.”
“Goodnight, Ozzy.”
“Goodnight, Drips.”