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Duke was like an old painting, full of detail and depth. His dark chocolate skin seemed to glow even in the dimmest light, and his curly hair framed his face in a way that softened his sharp edges. But it was those eyes that really drew Theo in—eyes that weren’t just brown. Everyone else might call them dark brown, but Theo would swear there was more to them. There was a shade of red mixed into the darkness, giving them a depth that was almost hypnotic. The long, dark lashes that framed them only added to Duke’s allure, making him look even more... handsome?
Theo swallowed hard, feeling a sudden heat in his chest. Beautiful was the word that came to mind, and for a moment, it almost scared him how easily it did. Duke wasn’t just handsome; he was beautiful in a way that made Theo’s stomach twist. He was lean, almost too thin, and the urge to take care of him, to cook him a meal and make sure he was eating well, crept up on Theo without him even realizing it. He pictured Duke sitting at his table, eating a bowl of his favorite venison stew, and for some reason, the image settled something warm inside him.
But it wasn’t just that. Theo had seen the way Duke's eyes faded sometimes, how his cocky exterior cracked for just a moment when he thought no one was looking. After Montresor, Theo had noticed the slight tremble in Duke’s hands, the way his breath would catch in his throat when he woke up from a nightmare. Theo wanted to hold him through those moments, to fend off the darkness that seemed to follow him like a shadow.
Duke might have been strong, quick with his wits, and able to take care of himself, but Theo knew all too well what it was like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. He didn’t want Duke to carry it alone.
"Hey, mon prince," Duke’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Theo turned, catching those dark, red-tinted eyes staring at him, a crooked grin on Duke’s face despite the bruises.
"You alright?" Theo asked, his voice a little rougher than intended.
Duke nodded, but there was something in his expression, something vulnerable just beneath the surface. "Yeah," he said, but Theo didn’t believe him for a second.
Theo moved closer, his hand resting on Duke’s shoulder. "I’m going to make you some stew when we get out of here," he said softly, surprising himself with the gentleness in his voice.
Duke blinked, his usual bravado slipping away for a moment. "Stew, huh? You cook too?"
Theo smirked, but his heart was pounding. "Yeah. And you’re going to eat every bite."
Duke let out a soft chuckle, but his eyes softened, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged with something unspoken. "I think I’d like that, mon prince."
***
Theo was kneeling by Duke’s bed, watching the Frenchman twist and turn, murmuring angrily in his sleep. The usual mask Duke wore, the carefree, trickster persona, was gone, replaced by raw vulnerability. He had seen Lenore like this so many times, her body trembling in the grip of nightmares when she was little, but this was different. Theo wasn’t sure what to do, but something inside him pushed him to act.
He hesitated for a moment, then gently took Duke’s arm and slung it over his shoulder, pulling the thinner man into a firm yet careful embrace. It was awkward at first, holding another man this way, but as soon as Theo felt Duke relax into him, his body going limp, he knew he had done the right thing. Duke’s hand gripped Theo’s sleeping shirt tightly, his fingers curling in desperation, as if he was holding onto him for dear life. He muttered something in French—angry words that Theo couldn’t quite catch—but whatever torment had been plaguing his sleep began to fade. Slowly, Duke’s tense frame melted against Theo, his breathing evening out, his nightmares receding.
Theo’s instinct was to pull away, to give Duke space now that he had calmed, but as he tried to loosen his hold, Duke’s grip tightened. The man wasn’t letting go. It wasn’t the kind of hold that asked permission; it was desperate, wordless, and full of unspoken fear. Theo had seen this before, when he finally found Lenore again, when she fell into his arms.
He sighed softly, realizing he couldn’t leave Duke like this. Not now. Slowly, he shifted, lying down beside Duke, careful not to jostle him too much. Duke didn’t wake; he just held on tighter, his face buried in the crook of Theo’s neck, clinging like a man afraid to fall back into the abyss. Theo’s hand hovered awkwardly for a moment, unsure where to rest, before he finally placed it on Duke’s back in a gentle, reassuring gesture.
For a long while, Theo just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Duke’s breathing. It was strange, feeling the warmth of Duke’s body so close. But he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. In fact, it felt... safe. Like maybe, just for a moment, neither of them had to bear the burden of their nightmares alone.
He stayed there, unmoving, until he felt Duke’s grip loosen, the Frenchman’s body fully relaxed and at peace for the first time since they had known each other. But still, Theo didn’t pull away. Not yet. He couldn’t bring himself to.