Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Flik gently patted the sides of the larger insect, but there was no response; the grasshopper was far too deep in his rest. He slid his fingers beneath gaps in Hopper's hard shell, hoping he could try to tickle or pinch him awake, though it was all in vain.

"Hopper, I... I can't breathe," he meekly gasped for air.

Caught between the big bug and the soft, leafy bed, the ant's whole body was being compressed tightly. At first, it was endearing when Hopper rolled in his sleep on top of Flik, but now the latter was met with a concerning conundrum.

"Hopper, if you kill me like this, we'll both be so sorry," Flik whispered more to himself than to his partner.

Eventually, Hopper grumbled and turned over. Flik could safely breathe again. This freedom was short-lived, however, as Hopper suddenly pulled him by the waist and placed him on top of his thorax. Two sets of arms pinned the ant tightly in place.

Flik was content with his current lot in life. He wasn't on the verge of being squished any longer, and the rhythmic rise and fall of Hopper's body, large enough to serve as a mattress for the ant, was soothing enough for him to fall back asleep.

Chapter Text

Like always, Flik was the first to get up, as the earliest rays of light trailed over the anthill. He gingerly slid out of Hopper's grasp and crawled from underneath their blanket, not wishing to rouse the grasshopper yet. There will come a time for that very soon, as Hopper was never one for morning routines. Afternoon ones, more like, Flik thought, and he shook his head as he looked back at the larger bug splayed across the bed, mouth slightly agape and a rather amusing expression plastered on his face. Very charming, Flik kept on pondering, smiling softly; he decided he would spare Hopper for a bit longer before descending upon him like a swarm of locusts. The ant stretched his back and tried to make himself busy by tidying up around the room while consulting a mental list of all the chores he had to tend to around the anthill. He paused his counting once he reached the eleventh errand he must fit into his schedule by sundown and figured he could use a helping hand.

"Rise and shine!" Flik tossed the leafy blanket off of Hopper with a flourish, the other insect greeting his matinal eagerness with a groan and a grumble. He covered his face with a petal that served as a pillow, but Flik merrily yanked that away, too.

"Or just rise if you're not feeling that ambitious today." He laughed at the sight of his partner scrunching up his face in annoyance.

"No," Hopper said flatly and turned away.

"Come on, there's plenty of grain just waiting out there to be picked!" Flik cackled some more. They did this ritual nearly each morning, and somehow he never grew bored of it.

"It can wait a little longer,"

Hopper reached out and grabbed the blanket and pillow back from Flik. He wrapped himself in a cozy cocoon while holding tightly onto it, ensuring himself that Flik’s pestering wouldn’t interrupt his wonderful early morning nap again. Sleep was always sweeter right before he had to wake up, and while Flik could understand and empathize, he always had other priorities in mind, such as being productive and responsible. Hopper snorted at the audacious thought and dragged the pillow over his eyes. They were underground, and somehow he could feel the sun’s warm light antagonizing him.

"No, it can't; you know how Thorny is when people are being lazy," Flik jumped on Hopper, who was set on staying in bed and burning precious daylight. While familiar with the accountant ant’s blazing fury if he were to spot a straggler bug poke his head late out of the anthill, Hopper decided he would burn that bridge when he got to it. Sleep now, getting yelled at by Thorny later.

"Thorny can shout at me until he gets hoarse, for all I care," he mumbled, curling tighter into the blanket.

"I’ve seen him yell plenty, but I’ve never ever seen him get hoarse from it." The ant teased, moving closer to Hopper. A grave mistake on his part as Hopper seized Flik's arms, and with some shuffling and shifting, the smaller insect found himself once more tucked away beneath the leaf cover in Hopper's unyielding grasp. He tried to move an arm or a leg, maybe, but there was no use; Hopper was stronger and his grip was firm.

"There. Now Thorny can yell at you too for being late. Maybe we will be the ones to cause him to lose his voice," Hopper announced triumphantly and kissed Flik's forehead. The ant was struggling to decide whether he was annoyed at the grasshopper or amused, but he thought it wouldn't hurt to be both, just to be sure.

"Hopper, no, you can't do this again; I don't think I can endure another lecture on the importance of punctuality!"

Hopper was silent.

"Hopper!"

There was still no answer, and Hopper kept his eyes shut despite Flik's wriggling. He would stop after a short while; he always did, Hopper mused, satisfied with himself while Flik lay still in his trap, pondering his condition once again. Hopper stretched only to settle more comfortably around Flik before dragging the ant's snout closer below his chin. He felt Flik sigh, a clear sign he had emerged victorious. Now it was time to rub it in.

"We can go whenever you want, now,” he said softly, but Flik remained stiff and disgruntled.

“Good, because I have so many things to do,” the ant tried one last attempt at removing himself from the grasshopper.

“You can always do them later,” Hopper held him tighter still.

Despite his eagerness to be up and about as soon as possible, merely moments prior, Flik could feel the undeniable temptation of sleep luring his eyes closed. He pretended to wrestle against it just so he could tell himself he didn’t go down without a fight, but in the end, he lost. Like Hopper said, he could always be responsible and productive later. The harvest season barely started, anyways, no sense in being too impatient about it, he reasoned to himself, trying not to picture Thorny’s scowl looming over him and Hopper like a rain cloud’s heavy shadow. Flik nestled his face in Hopper’s neck, his hands idly fidgeting at the pointed thorns protruding from the grasshopper's chest armor’s collar before laying still as they both nodded off.