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Laurent doesn’t open his eyes when he feels the bed shift.
Just like he didn’t when he heard the door open or when Damen bumped into the dresser with the smallest oof he could manage. If Laurent wasn’t so annoyed that Damen was out so late, he might’ve had a harder time schooling his expression.
It’s just Nikandros, he told himself. Reasoned. Damen was thoughtful enough to give him a heads up that his best friend was in town, and he even went so far as to extend an invitation to Laurent without making it seem like Laurent would just be tagging along, but as he probably expected, Laurent told him it wasn’t necessary and then wished him a good time because no one knows more than Laurent how much Damen needed this.
But even knowing that didn’t change the fact that tonight has been… difficult.
Laurent has never told him how much he hates going to bed alone now.
He shouldn’t hate it, considering how hard it was to adjust to having someone near him when he’s so… defenseless. And once he got over the initial distrust of having a person in the room with him while he sleeps, the actual having someone here with him was its own type of adjustment. If Damen moved, Laurent woke up. If Damen breathed too hard, Laurent woke up. If Damen dreamed, Laurent woke up. And Damen is as long as the bed, which means that it took a very long time to get over the fear of accidentally being pushed off. The summer nights were the worst because he thought Damen’s skin would boil him alive, but the first winter… well, that changed everything. It was the first time Laurent ever slept like a baby.
The room was ice cold, and after years of tucking too many unhelpful blankets around himself and still practically shivering to death, he finally got to experience the benefit of having someone else there, someone who’d spent the last six months being silently denied the chance to– Laurent will not use the word snuggle, but the definition is lose enough that for this purpose he will accept a similar interpretation. Damen got to hold him, and Laurent got to be toasty.
So he got used to it. And then once sleeping next to Damen stopped being something he needed to get used to, their actual arrangement shifted. They learned they both prefer to sleep on their sides with Damen at Laurent’s back. And Damen usually keeps a hand over Laurent’s chest, although he’s not sure if that’s just where it ends up or if he likes to keep his fingers over Laurent’s pulse.
They talk more like that, especially about the heavier topics. Those come out easier when Laurent is both in his arms and spared from having to deal with Damen’s intense, empathetic, and sometimes furious gaze. It’s never Laurent he’s angry with. No, because when it is, Laurent prefers to look him in the eye out of either spite or adrenaline. (No one’s perfect).
But tonight Laurent went to bed alone. He showered alone. No one offered to wash his hair for him. No one bartered for a turn beneath the hot water. No one tried to towel him off. No one sat on the toilet and watched him put on his face cream. No one tried to convince him not to wear pajamas. No one sat at the kitchen table with him for a late night snack. No one watched the Castle rerun with him. No one tried to sneak a single kiss while Laurent was busy doing something else. No one talked him out of checking his work emails.
It was a quiet night, and for the first time, Laurent was fully confronted with how dependent he’s become on having Damen within arms’ reach. He’s perfectly capable of functioning on his own, of course. That’s not a problem, but he just… missed him.
Naturally his first instinct was to have the locks changed immediately before Damen could come back, but then he reminded himself that missing someone isn’t the end of the world. No one is being punished, and no one needs to be punished. This is how long term relationships are supposed to go, and as long as no one else knows he’s grown this attached to Damen, it can’t become a problem.
His second instinct was to reach out to him, but Laurent did not do that. He could have, and Damen wouldn’t have cared, but he hasn’t seen Nik since they moved in together, and the two of them have been friends since Damen was a child, and so Laurent pictured him having to stop everything he’s doing just to respond to a message from his needy, sad little someone at home, and he immediately nipped that impulse in the bud.
He told himself it would just be a few hours, and then Damen would be home again and in an exceptionally good mood like he always is after spending a few hours with Nik.
But then it wasn’t just a few hours, and by the time Laurent finally gave up and dragged himself to bed, he was too annoyed to enjoy the leg room.
The smart thing to do would’ve been to just go to sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t do it. Laying with his eyes closed didn’t work, and he thought of trying lavender oils or warm milk, but both seem too ridiculous to actually work. No, for hours Laurent lay in the dark and waited. And waited. And waited.
Then Damen came home, and he was both relieved and… agitated.
A third instinct, a crueler one, told him to start a fight, but he quelled that one just as quickly. As sore as he might be, Damen didn’t do anything wrong, and that’s just all there is to it.
He is, however, sore.
Damen came home, and Laurent listened as he quietly made a couple stops in the apartment. The refrigerator door opened and shut first too quickly to be for a snack, and then Laurent heard the shower cut on in the bathroom. He gets points for washing the night off of him, Laurent has to give him that.
And then Damen slipped into the bedroom, bumped into the dresser, Laurent internally rolled his eyes, and then he climbed into bed, which in Laurent’s opinion, should have happened hours ago.
Laurent’s body tilts ever so slightly as the weight of another person causes the mattress to dip. Damen lifts the covers so carefully that it makes Laurent wonder if this is just a drunk man very intent on not seeming drunk or if Damen is always like this. As annoyed as Laurent tries to be, he can’t discredit how considerate Damen is. Usually.
He lies there with his eyes stubbornly closed, but then Damen moves towards him, the shadow of him somehow blocking out the already dark room, and then he presses a single kiss to Laurent’s forehead, lingering just a moment too long before he pulls away.
Why would he do that? That’s kind of weird. Something about Laurent’s reaction must show on his face because Damen pauses and hovers just above him as non-threateningly as possible.
He kisses his forehead again, but this time he moves down to the bridge of his nose, kissing him there too. And then he kisses the tip before he lowers himself to his lips. The first press is soft and fleeting before Damen kisses him again. And again. And again. Until Laurent relents and kisses him back, unable to restrain himself from getting something that clearly benefits him the most.
Damen smiles against his lips.
“Don’t gloat,” Laurent grumbles.
“I’m not,” he says. “Did I wake you?”
“Yes, and probably the whole neighborhood too,” he lies, but Damen doesn’t seem inclined to believe him. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah, it was a good time,” he says. “You should’ve come.”
“You didn’t need me hanging off of you the entire time,” Laurent says.
“I would have enjoyed the bragging rights,” he says. “But I meant as friends.”
He doesn’t mean the two of them.
There isn’t much Laurent can say to that. Nikandros may be Damen’s best friend, but Laurent met him separately and– doesn’t know if Nikandros approves of this as much as Damen thinks he does. And as frustrating as that might be, Laurent won’t pretend that knowing someone cares about Damen that much doesn’t soothe him.
“I didn’t think Nik liked me,” he says.
“If he didn’t like you, we’d both know it,” Damen says. That’s probably true.
“You needed to see him,” he says. “I’ll come next time.”
It might as well be an empty promise because who knows what the future will bring, but the possibility of a compromise is enough to make Damen happy.
Damen kisses him again, damn him. Making Laurent forget he was annoyed. Making it seem like he never went to bed alone at all. He keeps waiting for the taste of alcohol on his breath to hit, some sign that Damen spent the entire night acting like a college boy off of his leash, but each kiss was just as sweet as always. Nothing changed. Laurent went to bed alone, and nothing changed.
He pulls back and gives Laurent’s cheek a silent stroke with his thumbs before he deposits himself onto Laurent’s chest. He sighs, exhausted, and for some reason Laurent allows this. Ten minutes ago he might have shoved him off so hard that Damen tumbled to the floor, but now–.
Laurent lets his legs settle around him, creating a loose cage around Damen that he doesn’t plan to unlock for the next few hours.
The warmth of him settles into Laurent’s bones like a hot bath after a freezing day. He must know he has this effect on him. He must know all I have to do is lay on top of him like a big, loving dog and his mood will sort itself out. Laurent bristles silently because if so, he would be right. At what point did this person become a crucial piece of Laurent’s personal comfort? Not even a fraction of it, but the entire blazing core? He waits for that instinct to kick in, the one that told him to change the locks and to run, but it doesn’t. He’s content where he is.
“I brought you something if you want it for lunch tomorrow,” Damen mumbles. “Sorry, I forgot to ask for it when we ordered, so I had to wait for them to make it when it was time to go. And I went to your favorite bakery, but it was closed.”
Laurent opens one eye. “Did you stay out to bring me food?”
“Mhm.”
He frowns, confused. “Why?”
“Because you would’ve been cranky if I didn’t,” he says so softly that Laurent’s not a hundred percent sure he’s awake.
His face twists, annoyed, and he opens his mouth to say that he wouldn’t be, except he’d spent a decent amount of the night being peeved that Damen wasn’t here.
And knowing Damen, there would be a message on Laurent’s phone sent no more than an hour ago with an explanation that Laurent didn’t see because he was too busy trying to convince himself to fall asleep.
He didn’t used to be like this.
Laurent’s armor was made of fine needles, and Damen was the one who kept pawing at it and cutting his hands until Laurent finally took it off.
He doesn’t have to wear it anymore. Not here, not in their home. When he steps out into the real world, he has to, but not with him, never with Damen.
Damen is an armor, in a way. If what Laurent puts on when he goes into the world is meant to prick anyone who tries to get too close, Damen is the lining to keep him warm and comfortable. And is it so odd that having that comfort disrupted would agitate him? Shouldn’t it suck to feel his own needles against his skin?
Oh.
Well that’s–.
Hm.
Damen shifts on top of him to get comfortable, and Laurent lets this new level of self awareness peter out rather than spend the rest of the night looking at it too closely.
His fingers find their way into Damen’s drying hair, and soon sleep coils around his limbs like strong, dependable Akielon hands.
That sweet, blessed darkness claims him so deeply that even when Damen gets up off of his chest to settle into his usual place beside him, Laurent doesn’t so much as stir. A plane could fly through their apartment, and Laurent wouldn’t hear it.
And so he sleeps well into the morning, almost to noon, and he’s pleased to see when he opens his eyes that Damen’s still here. On his phone, idling the morning away, but he’s here.
Laurent turns onto his side, and Damen looks away from his phone, shifting all of his attention onto him. Somehow he looks happy to see him, if that could be possible (for a number of reasons, but in this case, it has more to do with the fact that they’ve been in the same bed for hours). Laurent’s own face softens.
He can do better.
“Do you have plans today?” Laurent asks.
“Not unless you do.”
“You should invite Nik over if he’s not busy.”
Damen’s eyebrows lift slightly at the suggestion. “Really?”
“You used to spend your weekends with him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but–,” Damen starts and stops himself before he says something worthy of the eyebrow Laurent raises at him. “Are you sure?”
Laurent closes his eyes, strongly resisting the urge to take it back and declare that no one is allowed in his sacred space. But it isn’t his, it’s theirs, and for Damen, Nik is his family.
And if he’s here, Laurent won’t have to drive himself crazy wondering why he isn’t home yet. Win, win.
Laurent nods his answer, but before he can turn into his pillow and check out of the conversation altogether, he’s pulled into a pair of strong arms against an even stronger chest.
“You’ve grown soft.”
“Shut up.”
Damen’s laugh softens the blow.