Work Text:
The charity gala hosted by Akso went on longer than anticipated. It’s just past midnight when it ends and everyone shuffles out to go home. The only signs of life at this hour manifest in small moths dancing under the streetlights.
The excitement of the event and the low hum of the car’s engine have already coaxed you to sleep. Sitting upright, your head lolls to the side at an odd angle. He glances over every so often. It never fails to bring a smile to his face.
His hands move fluidly on the wheel as he comes up to a turn. He deftly flicks the indicator as he slows down, leather slipping through his fingers as he glides around the curb. The quiet clicking of the blinker ends as he straightens back out.
The momentum is just enough to shift you from your upright position. Your head lands on his shoulder, hard enough he’s worried it may have woken you. Thankfully, when he looks down to check, you’re still fast asleep, subconsciously adjusting to use his shoulder as a pillow and lean against the center console.
It warms his heart, more than you’ll ever know, to have you this close. To have any such physical affection so unceremoniously given to him. He’s scarred and cold and stiff. Years spent alone have all but erased the old familiarity of close camaraderie and love. Then you come in and touch his cheek or wrap your arms around him. Trace the scars settled deep in his skin or brush his hair from his face. So warm and welcoming and easy, and he wants to fall right in every single time.
He wishes he could fall into it right now. Wishes he could simply pull over and lean his head on yours, awkwardly reaching across to hold you as he joins you in sleep. Instead, he keeps driving toward home. The prospect of holding you close in bed is enough to chase away the tired strain in his eyes.
With one hand on the wheel, he reaches over, glancing every now and then to make sure he doesn’t wake you. His hand finds your arm where it sits in your lap. His heart stutters like a lovesick teenager having their first kiss.
In languid motions, he strokes your arm over a small area, overtop his own coat that he had you put on before getting in the car. The material is soft and heats under his touch, but it is no substitution for your own skin. Perhaps it is this thought that has his hand slipping further down to seek yours. Long fingers gliding over your wrist where the coat-sleeve ends; even further down to slip between your own fingers and hold your hand. Your heated palm pressing against his, chasing away the chill he’s so accustomed to.
You sigh softly through your nose as you nuzzle your cheek against him. For a brief moment, your hand tightens around his, then relaxes as you settle into your dreams.
When he does pull into the parking lot of your shared apartment, he doesn’t rush to get out. He lingers there, resting his cheek on your head. His free hand brushes over your cheek before resting at the base of your neck. Eyes close as he listens to your breaths and his own heartbeat. Lingers in this uncomfortable, awkward cuddle. Just for a minute or two. Just until he can feel the tendrils of sleep coaxing him in.
When he carries you inside, his hands are warm.