Work Text:
"Please! No! Not Shin-chan! STOP!!!"
Takao's terrified screams greeted Midorima as he walked into the apartment after a late night at the hospital. He dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes in the genkan, turning them around but not bothering to put them away properly.
When he fumbled with the light switch, he forced himself to take a few seconds to calm down before he sprinted down the hall to the bedroom. There were a lot of things he liked arriving home to: freshly-cooked dinners from Takao, new issues of his favorite journals, clean clothes and a shower after a long day at the hospital. Takao's nightmares were not on that list.
He found Takao thrashing around on the bed, clawing indiscriminately at the sheets and at himself. Without stopping to turn on the light, he crossed to the bed, and in one smooth motion sat down, pulled Takao into his chest, and buried his head in the relative safety of Takao's back. The sudden restraint seemed to only feed Takao's nightmare though, and he fought against it, crying "No! Stop! STOP!!"
He tightened his hold and tried to ignore Takao's cries. He hated doing something that clearly caused Takao so much distress, but they had agreed it was the fastest and safest way to get his boyfriend back out of whatever nightmare had caught him. Back when they had first started living together, he had tried to let Takao's nightmares ride themselves out, but after Takao scratched himself hard enough to draw blood one night, and then thrashed right out of the bed and ended up with a minor head injury a couple of weeks later, it became clear that that wasn't a viable option.
After that, he had tried to wake Takao, but Takao didn't respond to the sound of his voice, and the first time he had tried shaking Takao to wake him, he had ended up with a black eye for his troubles. It took two weeks for the black eye to fade, and he spent them reassuring Takao that he wasn't going to break up and that throwing a punch when startled in the middle of a nightmare did not make Takao a horrible, abusive boyfriend.
Even their current method had had its own learning curve. The first time he tried it, he had been so intent on keeping hold of Takao's arms and reminding himself that he was not a terrible person for restraining his boyfriend like that that only a quick shift on his part prevented a broken nose courtesy of a strong headbutt from Takao.
It was the best solution they had come up with though, and while he still felt guilty about doing anything that distressed Takao even temporarily, and Takao still felt guilty for putting him in that position, it was guilt they both could live with and nothing some post-nightmare tenderness couldn't fix.
Which was all very well in theory, he thought, but it didn't make him feel any better in the moment as he tried to stop Takao from hurting either one of them while he was trapped in his mind.
"Shhh, Takao, it's okay," he said quietly. "It's just a dream. You're safe. Nothing's going to hurt you."
He fought to keep his voice steady as he murmured reassurances. He knew it wasn't rational, but every time Takao had one of his bad nightmares, he worried that Takao wouldn’t wake up. That it would be the one time he couldn't break through, and that Takao would stay trapped in that hell forever.
He knew it wasn't rational, but as the seconds passed into what felt like eternity and Takao continued to scream and thrash, the fear grew until he was certain this would be that time.
"Please, Kazunari. Please come back," he whispered.
Unlike in the stories though, his words had no magical effect, and Takao continued to scream. He hung on for dear life and tried to ignore the growing damp patch he was leaving on Takao's back.
"Don't go. Please don't go…I need you," he continued, his voice breaking.
Finally, when his muscles were burning and he was on the verge of screaming himself, Takao gave a sudden, violent start, and fell silent. Takao pulled against his hold a few more times, but they were movements of confusion, not terror.
"Shin-chan?" Takao whispered hoarsely.
Midorima fought the urge to collapse back onto the bed as all of the tension drained out of him.
"Takao. You had a nightmare," he said, and he hoped Takao wasn't coherent enough to notice how his voice shook.
He relaxed his hold, and Takao turned around before burying himself back into Midorima's arms, knocking both of them back onto the mattress in the process.
"I'm sorry, Shin-chan," Takao said, his voice muffled by Midorima's shirt.
"It's fine, Takao. You're safe now," Midorima replied as he rubbed the spot behind Takao's ears that he knew always made the Hawk Eye relax.
It was only a couple of minutes before Takao started snoring, at which point Midorima looked down and realized he was still in his work clothes, and Takao was asleep half on top of him with a death grip on his button-up shirt that looked liable to leave permanent marks in the fabric.
He fought the urge to extricate himself from Takao's hold. As anyone who had ever tried to plan an overnight trip with him knew, he did not share beds. Between worrying about accidentally hitting the other person and worrying about them hitting him, he inevitably spent the entire night lying awake and hyperaware of every tiny sound or movement. Even he and Takao had had separate beds for years, which Takao had slowly inched together until they were touching. Even then, it had taken significant cajoling and promises not to cross the centerline on Takao's part before Midorima was convinced to invest in a single, king bed. Though, being the good boyfriend he was, Takao had purchased a body pillow along with it, which he promptly cut in half lengthwise then sewed back together end-to-end to create a barrier they could put between them on the nights when Midorima needed the extra reassurance of having his own space.
None of that did any good at the moment though, not when he was still in his work clothes and Takao was clinging to him like a barnacle. He did some quick mental calculations. Takao was teaching an early class, so his alarm would go off in about three hours. If he changed and went to bed himself then, he could still get almost five hours of sleep before he had to get up for a midday meeting. It wasn't as much sleep as he would have liked, but it was more than he had survived on during most of med school. It would have to be enough.
He carefully removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table. Looking up at the now-blurry ceiling, he tried to force himself to relax as he started mentally reviewing the case he would be presenting the next day.