Work Text:
In the left nightstand, next to Fang’s usual side of the bed, Lucius is digging around. He's pushing butt plugs and vibrators and lube to the side as he searches. Fang promised him it would be in here, but so far his efforts are fruitless. He huffs, shutting the drawer and standing back with his hands on his hips as he surveys the room.
Where could it be?
Worrying his lip, he decides the only course of action is to look through Izzy’s nightstand. He's mildly terrified there might be a trap in there, a knife that’ll go right through his hand if he digs too much. Or what if he keeps weird shit in there? What if he has a dead baby pig in a jar? Actually, that might be pretty cool...
Lucius rounds the bed and pops Izzy’s drawer open. He's only mildly disappointed by the contents. It's cleaner than Fang’s and lacks personal devices, but the smell of lemongrass wafts up from inside as he carefully sorts through papers. It only takes Lucius a moment to realize that everything he's touching has come from him.
Sketches of the crew in various forms of undress, random flowers they'd seen on their nightly walks, a page dedicated to Izzy’s angry faces (which is surprisingly a lot). His chest caves pleasantly as he looks through the sheets, some of them crumpled only to be flattened again. Saved from the trash, no doubt.
“What are you doing?”
Lucius tenses, papers clutched between his fingers. Izzy doesn't sound angry. If anything he sounds tired as fuck, but some how that's almost worse. Like he's tired of his shit. Lucius spins on his feet, still holding the papers as he stumbles through the truth.
“Fang told me my hand cream was in here, but I didn't find it in his drawer like he said so I looked in yours instead,” he rambles, only breathing to bring the papers up, “you kept this?”
Izzy blinks, slow and tired. There's a moment where he barely moves at all and Lucius wonders if he breathed on him, would he fall over? Silently Izzy moves to Fang’s side of the bed again, sorting through their sex toys before producing what Lucius wants.
He tosses the item to a stunned Lucius, who barely catches it, “you're talented. Of course I kept them.” Like it was no big deal for him to compliment someone. “I can sell them when you're famous. Make a mint.”
Lucius rolls his eyes, stuffing the papers back where he found them. It's cute, though, thinking about Izzy keeping his random sketches alive. He likes to think that maybe when Izzy’s feeling down, he pulls the sketches out of the drawer and looks through them for solace.
He imagines Izzy seeing crumpled papers in the bin, a little peak of pencil marks causing him to open the thrown ball to see what's inside. To go through all of that for lil old Lucius? The old man must really love him.
Lucius abandons the nightstand and cups Izzy’s face in his hands. He presses short kisses to his lips, once, twice, maybe a third.
“You're already in the will,” Izzy mumbles between kisses, causing Lucius to snort. “Now get out of my room. I need to sleep.”
“I could join you.”
It's Izzy’s turn to snort, “if you get in this bed with me, I'll never sleep. Fucking tart.”
Lucius reluctantly pulls away, but only after stealing another kiss. Now that he has what he came for, he steps towards the door, “you better be awake for our walk tonight.”
Izzy peels back the blanket and climbs in, tiny body curling up and mumbles, “wouldn't miss it for the world.”
Izzy ends up sleeping the rest of the day, missing the walk he claimed he wouldn't miss for the world. Lucius isn't upset about this, though, because he's busy doing the creepiest thing he's ever done. Okay, maybe not the creepiest but pretty close.
He's taken up the chair in the corner of Fang and Izzy’s room, his sketchbook across his lap. It's not like Izzy to sleep like this but he must need it, his body barely stirring his entire nap. His face, however, tells a different journey and Lucius has made sure to capture as many twitches, sleepy smiles and furrowed brows as he can.
No one is cute while they sleep, though, and Izzy is no exception, especially as Lucius puts the finishing touches on how he looks now. Face slack, mouth hanging open while soft snores drift into the air. He splutters when a loud one jolts him, almost violent in the way he wakes, like he's just remembered he forgot something important.
Lucius watches with a small smile as he turns towards the clock on the nightstand, sighing heavily when he notices what time it is now.
“Fuck,” Izzy whispers, running his hand through his hair. He only stalls when he finally notices Lucius in the corner and it's curious, his reaction. He barely flinches, but for the briefest moment a flash of panic blossoms behind his eyes before he's calm again. His voice is thick when he speaks, “why didn't you wake me up?”
Lucius snorts, shutting his sketchbook, “I'm not an idiot, you don't wake a sleeping bear.”
Izzy rubs his face, thumping back against his pillow, “we missed our walk.” He sounds almost…sad about that. Adorable.
“Oh no, what-ever shall we do?” Lucius gasps dramatically and gets up, leaving his sketchbook behind. “You were too cute to wake up. You really should sleep more often, though, it's good for you.”
“Fuck off.”
“I could do that or,” Lucius crawls across the bed, coming to rest with a knee on each side of Izzy’s waist, trapping him there, “you could make it up to me that you missed our walk.”
When Lucius wakes in the morning he's alone. He's used to it now, Izzy never able to stay in bed when he has things to do, so he drags himself out from between the nice, warm blanket and out into the cold. He dutifully collects his clothes, before checking the chair for his sketchbook.
The first thing he notices is that it's open. The second thing he notices is the short poem that Izzy has written on the page of his sleeping face. An arrow connects his poem to the drawing of him drooling:
Roses are red,
Your ass will be, too,
The moment I get my fucking hands on you.
And this? Well, Lucius is going to keep this.