Work Text:
The rain starts at exactly the same moment as the sun fully dies out on the horizon, slamming down hard without a warning. Lumina Square goes from its usual steady thrum chaos to an uproar of loud complaints, the area becoming deserted as Lighter watches people flee inside to overcrowded stores or otherwise take their chances sprinting in the rain for their original destination. It takes seeing the suddenly empty streets to shake Lighter out of his haze, belatedly realizing he would need to make his way out of the sudden downpour himself.
He pushes his sunglasses up to rub across his eyes, but all it accomplishes is making his face more wet. What a stupid situation... it wouldn’t be so bad if it was earlier in the day, but he stayed in the city way later than he planned to, and it was a long ride back to the Outer Ring. The cold of the rain Lighter could deal with, but he wasn’t keen on driving out with it coming down this heavy, especially with his head not in the game. If nothing else, it would unite the girls in getting pissed at him over it, which is something Lighter prides himself on avoiding like hell. He can maybe take one or two of them getting mad at him, but getting on everyone’s bad side at once has never ended up well.
Lighter runs through several options in his head as he walks through the emptied wet streets back to his bike — he’s heard of some overnight cafe, and there’s always a hotel if he’s desperate — but it’s half-hearted at best. The way he’s feeling now, he’d rather sit out in the rain than be in a building he doesn’t know, too close to strangers.
He jams his keys in and sits back, letting out a gust of a sigh. He’s hopeless. All this circling around all day just to end up unable to avoid it after all. He squeezes the lever down and thumbs the ignition on, already knowing exactly where he’s going to end up.
Sixth Street is quiet when he gets there, every sound and sight blanketed by the overwhelming downpour. It makes everything feel far away, unfamiliar.
It’s only when he’s stood in the Random Play’s entryway, fist raised to knock, that it hits Lighter what an idiot he’s being, showing up on their doorstep without any notice. Sure, he’s dropped by at the store unannounced a few times before — whenever he “happened to be” in the area — but that was during business hours, and with no intention to inconvenience the managers over it. This is... a little different from that. But he was shameless enough to bring himself to their doorstep anyways, so all he can really do now is own up to it.
He raps his knuckles against the front door (“Closed for now, see you tomorrow!! ☆”) and doesn’t get a spare moment to wait in suspense before it’s being opened.
“Wha... Lighter?” Wise leans heavy against the door to keep it still against the battering winds, staring out at Lighter with his mouth dropped open the slightest bit.
Lighter tries not to wince. “Ah... hey, my bad.” He tugs at his wet scarf uselessly. He has to raise his voice to be heard above the storm. “Proxy, do you think—” The words turn into surprised spluttering as Wise grabs his wrist and tugs him, hard. Lighter dumbly follows when Wise backs up, only brought back to himself when he hears the shrill slam of the door falling shut behind them both, loud enough for the glass to rattle.
“You were riding around in that weather?” Wise still hasn’t let go of Lighter’s wrist, unimpressed when he scans Lighter from head to toe.
“... Sorry,” Lighter repeats himself, awkward. “I know it’s late.”
Wise lets go of him. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, shaking his head. “Of course we want you to come here if you don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Lighter must have been more worked up over it than he thought, because something deep inside him relaxes at the explicit permission. He doesn’t know why he thought Wise would be mad.
“Wise, is someone— ohh, Lighter? Wise didn’t tell me you were coming around today!” Belle pokes her head out from around the stairs, then gives him a look so identical to her older sibling’s that it almost makes Lighter laugh. “You look like a drowned cat!”
“Belle,” Wise says, exasperated. It’s too quiet for Belle to hear. “... But you know, she’s not wrong,” he adds, giving Lighter a judgmental side eye.
“I’ll go get some warm towels — don’t just stand around, bring him upstairs!” Belle runs off before either of them can say a word, but the direction moves Wise to action.
He steps into Lighter’s personal space. “You really are soaked,” Wise says, almost accusingly. He reaches towards Lighter’s scarf — snatching his hand back at the last second and frowning at him instead. There’s something cute and demanding about how his hands hover.
Lighter stares at him, slowly blinking. “Oh, right,” he mutters. Wise motions him to follow, and he starts to shrug off his drenched-heavy jacket while he trails after Wise up the stairs.
“Alright, well... you should take a shower,” Wise decides for him. “I’ll get you some clothes, you can borrow them — though they might not fit you very well I guess... I’ll try to pick some that aren’t too bad.” The Proxy looks back briefly, a strange expression on his face when he glances at Lighter. “You can go to my room after you shower, it’s over... oh, I mean, you know where my room is, of course.” It’s odd to hear an uncomfortable note in his voice, rambling to fill the empty space.
Lighter watches, noticing Wise biting his lip, teeth digging in. He doesn’t look nervous, but Wise can be hard for him to read at the best of times... Abruptly, he realizes they’ve been stopped in front of the bathroom door for a few moments already. And Wise is just standing there, peering up at Lighter with a complicated look.
He’s making the Proxy worry.
Lighter tries to speak, clearing his throat. “Right, sorry. I got it.” His voice is much more hushed than he means for it to be.
Wise keeps looking at him. “Okay,” he says, matching Lighter’s quiet. “I’ll be here when you get out. Alright?”
“Alright.”
Not just being all but drowned in rain from standing around, but also from riding his motorcycle through the storm, on some level Lighter was painfully cold, and similarly the scalding water from the shower was painfully hot. Those sensations felt very far away even as the small bathroom quickly filled with steam and the surface of his skin turned a bright, ugly red.
“Delivery!” Belle’s bright voice comes muffled and far away from behind the door. “I’m gonna open the door just a little to drop the towels off, ok?” He hears her fine, but somehow the words barely register. Out of sight, there’s the sound of the bathroom door quickly opening and closing, making Lighter realize he had forgotten to even attempt to respond.
It was tempting to waste time and stay standing under the spray with nothing to hold his focus other than the water hitting his back... but Lighter has no idea how expensive water is out in the city. It would be pretty terrible of him to take advantage of the generosity already being shown to him.
It takes repeating that line of thought back to himself several times before Lighter manages to make the effort of turning the shower off.
The towels Belle got for him are warm after all. He makes quick work of drying himself off, the motions of it automatic and exhausting, making a half hearted attempt to dry his hair. It not dripping everywhere would have to be enough.
Lighter wraps the towel around his waist for the few steps it takes to duck into Wise’s room. The walls are a little thin, and he can hear the pair of siblings talking in Belle’s room, rapidfire but unintelligible against the loud patter of rain against the roof. The pants Wise left out on his bed for Lighter fit fine, maybe a bit tight around the calves, but the shirt isn’t happening. He gets it halfway on before the risk of tearing it open becomes too worrying to ignore, so he decides to forgo it.
“Oh,” says Wise, stood still with his hand pressed on the door, “um.”
Lighter turns to him a helpless shrug. “Thanks for the offer.”
“You’re going to get cold...” Wise steps inside his room, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze lingers on the shirt in Lighter’s hand, and Lighter tries very hard not to read anything into how Wise is refusing to look at him shirtless.
Used to all of Wise’s layers, Lighter can’t help but think that something about seeing Wise dressed down for sleep makes him look surprisingly dainty.
“Not that cold,” Lighter disagrees. The storm is more fierce than it is freezing, and he’s used to much lower temperatures than this in the Outer Ring. He smiles, a little awkward. “You don’t have to worry after me too much.”
Wise turns to take a look at him — then scoffs, a little smile on his face too. “It’s a little hard to hear that from you when you can’t even dry your hair properly, you know?”
“Huh?” Lighter’s hand flies to his hair, which is... a little more damp than he thought it was, but still...
“Here,” Wise says, stepping much closer than Lighter expects — he steps backwards, the back of his knees hitting Wise’s bed, and Wise reaches out, his hand almost on Lighter’s chest. Before Lighter can even open his mouth, Wise takes hold of the small towel draped around Lighter’s neck and tugs it off. “Sit down, I’ll dry it off for you.”
Promptly, Lighter sits. Wise lets out a huff of a laugh that Lighter can feel stir at his bangs, and then he’s standing between Lighter’s legs, gentle when he presses the towel against his wet hair. It’s good, Lighter thinks, that the towel is hanging over his eyes, a fine replacement for how he’d be needing to hide the look on his face behind sunglasses instead.
Something tense and unrelenting in him unravels with Wise standing before him, taking the time to dry him off slow and methodically, nothing like the rough once-over Lighter would deem good enough for himself. Even the way the Proxy nudges his head to tilt whichever way Wise wanted was... nice.
“It’s getting all fluffy,” Wise notes. This time, Lighter feels his touch directly, fingers running through his hair and nails glancing against his scalp. It takes a Lighter a second to register, preoccupied with trying not to lean into Wise’s hand. With his eyes falling closed, he misses the fond look Wise gives him.
“No kidding?” Lighter pushes off the towel to tug at a stray curl. “It did used to be a bit more like that when I was younger. Around your age, maybe.”
“My age?” Wise is clearly amused when Lighter looks up at him, hands still buried in his hair.
“Uh,” Lighter says.
“No, go on, how old would that be?” Wise teases him. All Lighter can see is the angle of his throat, Wise stood too close above him, leaned in close.
He clears his throat. “Guess I should’ve asked, huh?” But Wise looks far too expectant, so he reluctantly adds: “Around... 23?”
Wise hums, detangling his fingers from Lighter’s hair. “Not too far off, really... but I’m 25, thank you.” He looks at Lighter, eyes lit with curiosity. “So then, you...?”
“Come on, you guess too.” Lighter leans back on his hands, giving Wise an easy grin. Wise rolls his eyes and glances away. “Shouldn’t have put me on the spot if you didn’t want to be yourself.”
Wise rolls his eyes, but admits defeat with a cross of his arms. “I don’t know, 28?”
Lighter lets out a surprised laugh. “Ooh, now that’s generous. That’d be 34, sorry to disappoint.”
“What, really?” Wise asks before he can stop himself, giving Lighter a curious once over like his perception will suddenly change.
Lighter cocks his head and lets him look. Sure, it’s vain of him, but Lighter has his moments around Wise.
“Oh,” Wise startles back to himself when he realizes the lull in conversation. He fumbles to pick up the towel with a little wince, a perfect picture of awkwardness. “Uh, sorry...”
Lighter wants to tease — ask why he’s getting so embarrassed, for what exactly the Proxy is sorry for — but the atmosphere feels somehow tense, and it’s easier to let the moment pass than it is to press on it.
Wise shakes his head as if to clear it, and pushes straight through. “I think you’ll be best off taking the bed.”
Smooth recovery, Lighter almost comments. “I’m not going to steal your bed when I came here uninvited,” he says instead.
Wise looks like he wants to argue, but relents with a sigh, running a hand through his grey hair. “Alright... I’ll get you some blankets and pillows. The couch downstairs is comfortable, but it might be a bit small for you.”
Lighter’s lips quirk up into a smile. It’s funny that the Proxy is attempting to warn him off when Lighter has slept in much worse conditions. He moves to trail after Wise without a thought when he fetches some spare blankets from the cupboard, dropping Lighter’s towel in a basket along the way, and luckily Wise doesn’t seem to mind the company. Lighter leans with his hip against the door, nonplussed at the sheer amount of clutter the siblings have managed to stuff away. There’s odd-ends and overspilling fabric everywhere he looks, but Wise expertly picks out what he needs without disturbing anything unsteady.
So that’s what it’s like to see a disorganized master at work.
Lighter eyes the growing amount of pillows and blankets. “I, uh... think that’s enough, don’t you?”
“Belle always insists that comfort is important,” Wise explains, voice muffled by the blankets he’s still piling into his arms. “And I happen to agree with her.”
Lighter shuts his mouth and doesn’t argue.
Wise was correct that the downstairs couch is perhaps a little small. The manager gives it a look like he’s reconsidering making Lighter take the bed after all, so Lighter swiftly takes the burden from his arms before he can change his mind. There’s no way in hell that Lighter is going to let himself steal Wise’s bed.
He busies himself with laying out the mess of blankets and pillows, turning a polite blind eye to the way Wise moves to tidy around the rest of the room. Lighter wasn’t expected company, so it makes sense for their private area to be a bit of a mess, not that he would judge either way.
“I’ll just turn the monitors off,” Lighter hears Wise mutter to himself.
“Oh?” Lighter looks back at him with a frown. “Don’t mess up with your equipment on my behalf, Wise.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The room slowly dims. If the Proxy says it’s fine, then it’s fine, probably. Lighter doesn’t think their generosity extends so far as to impact their business schedule for his sake.
The Proxy looks pretty in the dark, Lighter thinks, settling down against the couch’s side. He’s gently illuminated by faint blue lights emanating from the workstation. It washes him out a little... he looks tired like this, light scattered across his cheek, somehow far-away and untouchable.
Belle comes in with a basket of clothes, balancing it against her hip. She gives him a funny smile when she spots Lighter, chin perched on his palm while watching Wise, and he hurriedly straightens up.
The younger Proxy’s eye’s dart to Wise then back to Lighter, mouthing something... does she expect Lighter to know how to read lips? He shrugs back at her helplessly, and Belle giggles.
The sound draws Wise’s attention, gaze skipping right over Lighter over to his sibling. “Oh, are those his clothes?”
That they are, a black sodden heap. Lighter rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, uh. Thanks for takin’ care of that...” He hadn’t even remembered taking his clothes off or what he did with them. He must’ve been even more out of it than he thought... it’d be nice if they hadn’t noticed anything too off with him.
“No prob,” Belle says easily. “I’m about to put some stuff in the dryer anyway, so I wanted to check I’m not going to ruin that fancy jacket if I shove it in there.”
Lighter snorts. “Yeah, a dryer wouldn’t do it any favours. It’ll dry out just fine if I can hang it indoors...” He moves to stand up.
Suddenly, there’s Wise pressing down on his shoulders, keeping him still.
“Sit tight, I got it.” Wise tells him firmly. He doesn’t move his hands off until Lighter acquiesces.
“Good thing we asked first before tossing it all in then, right?” Belle nudges Wise once he’s in range, exaggerated and pointed, and Wise makes a stupid face back at her.
“I’ll put everything else in the wash,” Wise says, taking the basket and jostling Belle with his elbow on his way out the room.
“And I’ll hang these out!” Belle agrees cheerily. She hangs back at the last second - eyes kind and warm when she looks him over. “Make yourself comfortable, Lighter.” It sounds like more of an order than it should be. “And sleep well!”
“Yeah, goodnight.” It leaves Lighter sitting there, awkward in his uselessness. He didn’t know what he expected really, but having the Proxies jumping to... what, look after him? He can’t call it that, but what else do you call this? Whatever it was, it was unexpected.
Lighter settles in to sleep on the couch, a wave of exhaustion hitting him with enough force that he must’ve been holding it at bay for a while. Yeah, his back is definitely going to hurt tomorrow. But it’s been made comfortable by Wise’s insistence, and his eyes feel heavy as they fall shut in the dark of the room. There’s a barely noticeable sound from the workstation, the muffled sound of rain outside, faintly, the sound of the Proxies moving around upstairs. It’s all soothing.
He dozes off easily, a strange feeling in his gut — guilt and warmth.
The only thing that disturbs him is the quiet sound of the door opening.
“Just here to turn off the lights,” comes Wise’s voice, a whisper through the dark, and Lighter lazily turns his head in response to the click of the switch. He hums in response, doesn’t want Wise to think he has to be quiet, and hears the gentle pad of socks against the floor.
There’s a mumbled apology when the couch dips near Lighter’s arm, and he instinctively moves to give Wise more space to fold his knees up as he arranges himself to sit on the floor next to Lighter.
“You really could’ve talked the bed, you know.” Wise’s voice is so close, hushed and quiet. Paired with the way Lighter can barely see him even when he forces his eyes to open a silver, he feels like he might as well be a dream. Still, Lighter tries to make a sound of acknowledgement. “I sleep on the couch here a lot, I’m used to it.”
“Why’s that?” Lighter mutter, barely intelligible. Wise shifts in the dark, the dip growing heavier as some part of him presses against Lighter’s arm with a ticklish feeling. From the feeling of it, he guesses that Wise has his arms up on the couch, crossed and laying his head on them.
“Don’t sleep well,” Wise says, simply. “It’s usually when Proxy work has me worn-out enough to take a nap.”
Eyebrows furrowing, Lighter turns his head towards Wise. He squints out blearily, reaching out until he successfully lands his hand on Wise’s head.
Not expecting the sudden weight, Wise gives a little flinch. But Lighter doesn’t move his hand except to gently smooth out his hair.
“Y’should...” Lighter breathes out, voice slowing, “take better care of yourself.”
Wise huffs out an almost silent laugh, picking up Lighter’s hand in his own and unfolding himself to stand up. He lingers, hesitating, something in him softening as he looks at the silhouette of the dozing man before him.
Wise moves closer, bending down, and gently brushes away Lighter’s hair to press a kiss to his forehead, quick and feather-soft.
“Sleep well, Lighter.”
Lighter sighs as Wise disappears in a blink of an eye.
His mind must be playing tricks on him...