Work Text:
Cole falls asleep with his toes tucked against Reyes' shins, his forehead touching Reyes' shoulder.
He wakes up screaming.
He bats away Reyes' arms, curled around him. Cole can see his figure in the dark, head raised off his pillow, and for a moment, amidst all his panic, he knows how awful he'll feel about losing his shit.
His legs thrash under the sheets as he pushes himself up, chest heaving. He looks around. Door closed, presumably still locked, windows shuttered; he turns to Reyes –
"Breathe. In and out." His voice is low, gentle.
Cole gasps. Forces in a deep breath, past the tightness in his chest. He coughs it out.
Again. Again. Until he can untangle his fingers from their deathgrip on the bedsheets. He presses the heels of his feet into the mattress.
Gabe's silhouette is next to him, unmoving. He's propped up on one arm, head tilted towards Cole.
Cole flops back onto the bed, digging the heels of his sweaty hands into his eyes. He sighs. He hears the shuffle of sheets next to him, followed by soft footfalls.
Gabe walks to Cole's side of the bed; he hears the thunk of a glass placed on his bedside. He flinches, only relaxing when Gabe walks away again.
He keeps breathing.
He forces himself up when he feels the bed dip on Gabe's side. He swings his legs over, fumbles for the glass of water, gulps it down.
Reyes is quiet behind him. Always patient when he knows he needs to be.
Cole pushes himself back, sitting against the headboard, glass cool in his hands.
The air conditioner's muted hum keeps the silence comfortable instead of deafening. The edges of the closet and dresser are softened by the dark. A shard of light stretches from the doorway, breaks on the toes of Cole's boot, discarded at the foot of the bed.
"M'sorry," he mutters, and heaves the glass in Gabe's direction.
The glass is gently removed from his grip, and set aside.
"You're good."
Cole runs a hand through his hair, then props his chin on it. He resolutely doesn't think about his dream. It will fade. The feeling of urgency, the fear, will fade. The memories won't fade, but he will feel okay again.
His fingers brush against his brow. Reyes' quiet breathing lulls him. He feels his eyes flutter at last.
He scoots down, curled up, facing Gabe. He watches Gabe mirror him, sheet pulled up to his waist.
All is quiet. All is dark.
Cole reaches forward, hand grasping Gabe's wrist, thumb brushing over the bones of his wrist. The seal broken, Gabe places his other hand on Cole's thigh, a comforting weight. He slips a leg between Cole's, and Cole sighs.
"Thank you," he whispers.
Gabe squeezes his thigh.
Cole drifts off again.