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Clown is warm and oh-so cozy when he wakes up. Unfortunately, this does not stop him from immediately tensing up.
Vigilance runs in his veins, burned deeply into his bones. He feels two presences, one behind him, one pressed into his front, and he just barely stops himself from leaping to his feet, axe in hand.
Instead, he forces himself to go limp, breaths measured and even. As if he were still asleep. He cracks an eye open.
His gaze immediately falls upon the swath of purple in his arms, and he truly relaxes.
Ros.
The hand that was tracing random patterns into his back pauses, and he hears a low huff of amusement, “you can chill out, man. It’s just us.”
Sneeg.
Clown glances back over his shoulder, catching a glance of the engineer. Unlike himself and Ros, who are laying down in Clown’s comfortable and truly gigantic king-sized bed, Sneeg is sat up, propped up against a stack of pillows. A book goes ignored in his lap, the man staring down at Clown with humor in his eyes.
“Sorry,” he mumbles into his shoulder, his voice low and raspy with sleep. “You know how it is.”
Sneeg nods, understanding as ever of the instinctual violence that is carved into Clown. “Yeah, yeah. We wouldn’t let anything happen to you, though.”
Clown turns away, burying his face in Ros’ hair to hide his soft expression. He can feel Sneeg jostle with silent laughter, and knows that he knows how touched Clown is by the statement anyway.
He hears the near-inaudible sound of a page being flipped, but Sneeg’s other hand doesn’t leave his back. Instead of resuming its idle tracing, it roams upwards, until Sneeg’s fingers are combing gently through his hair.
Diabolical bastard, he thinks, his eyelids fluttering.
“Uh huh, yeah, I’m so mean and evil and cruel to you, comfiest man alive,” Sneeg says, and Clown realizes he might’ve said that out loud. He grumbles low in his throat, opening his mouth to retort, when the architect in his arms shuffles.
“Guys…” she mumbles sleepily, and Clown’s mouth closes with a click. “Stop it…”
“Sorry, Ros,” both of them mutter in unison. He feels Sneeg’s elbow pointedly jab him in the spine, and just barely resists kicking back. He would respect Ros’ coziness.
That doesn’t mean he won’t be getting Sneeg back for it later, however. Hmmm, perhaps he would allow the silverfish in the Fish Tank to breach containment. Let no one think that ClownPierce wouldn't go above and beyond for vengeance.
Ros hums in contentment, and Clown is startled out of his revenge fantasy as he feels lips brush the hollow of his throat. Not a second later, there’s a gentle kiss against his pulse-point, and he melts. He presses a kiss to the crown of Ros’ head, hugging her tighter.
One of Ros’ arms lifts from his back, and he can feel her blindly reaching around. Just out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sneeg’s hand leave his hair to hold hers, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the back of her hand.
Clown tilts his head back, until it bumps Sneeg’s arm. “Sneeg. C’mere.”
“I’m literally right here.”
“No, lean down.”
“Eugh, why? Are you trying to kill my back?”
“Yes,” Clown replies as forcefully as he can, which is barely, when he’s so warm. “Now come here.”
He sees Sneeg roll his eyes, before the blacksmith finally sets the book aside on the bedside dresser, and leans down. Clown doesn’t let Sneeg realize what’s happening. He throws an arm up to cradle the back of his head, until he can force the man down enough for Clown to press a kiss to his lips.
He lets Sneeg retreat after a second, too sleepy to turn the soft kiss into anything deeper. He doesn’t fight back against the smug grin that curls his lips, enjoying Sneeg’s quick blinks of surprise. Then, Sneeg scoffs, pecking Clown’s forehead before sitting back up.
“Idiot. That wasn’t much of an evil plan.”
“Hmm….. Well, that was only the start.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Clown doesn’t reply, letting his low, devious chuckle speak for itself. Truly, he hadn’t planned anything else, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love to toy with Sneeg’s ever-analytical mind. One of the simplest joys in the world was to see the way Sneeg narrowed his eyes and chewed at his lip when he was deciphering something. Clown wondered if he stared for long enough, if he could see every minute tick and calculation that Sneeg’s brilliant brain came up with.
He’s cut off by a peck to the corner of his lips, his gaze flicking back to the woman at his front with curiosity. Ros has the same frustrated, determined glint in her eyes that she had when her third trap against Pangi failed.
“I missed,” she pouts, and Clown can’t help a short giggle.
Giggling? From the world’s deadliest assassin? Universe, he was cooked.
“You could’ve just told me, Ros.”
“But that’s no fun,” she huffs. “You surprised Sneeg, and I wanted to surprise you!”
“Yeah, get his ass, Ros!” He hears Sneeg cheer from behind him, and this time, Clown doesn’t resist a kick to Sneeg’s shin. Sneeg only chuckles in response.
“Well, perhaps then I shall shut my eyes,” Clown’s voice has adopted his goofier “archmage” accent, savoring the giggles it provokes from Ros. “Who knows what will happen while they’re closed!”
On cue, he shuts his eyes, and no sooner than he has, Ros is kissing him. It’s not much of a kiss, not when she’s clearly trying to hold back that adorably devious little smile of hers.
He wonders if she knows how special this moment was. There were very few people in the world he would willingly close his eyes to, dropping his guard and letting them do as they pleased to him. Putting his faith into them entirely. Trusting them with his carefully exposed heart.
He could count how many people he would do this for on one hand, and two of them were right here with him, in this bed.
“Oh no!” He yelps overdramatically, eliciting peals of giggling from his architect. “Oh, the humanity! I’ve been attacked! Oh, the damage, it’s horrible, I’ll never recover!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Ros shrieks in return, grinning wide. “It had to be done!”
He rolls onto his back, pulling Ros halfway onto his chest. He flings a hand out to get a hold of Sneeg, who is watching their theatrics with exasperated amusement.
“Sneeg, you must help me against this terror!”
“Nah, I’m just gonna let you die.”
“Betrayal!” He yells, and Ros only laughs louder into his shoulder.
Eventually, they all calm down, the atmosphere hazier but no less light. Without the exhilaration of their banter, it’s all too easy for drowsiness to settle over Clown once more. He blinks harshly, trying to fight off sleep, to stay in this wonderful moment for just a little longer.
He can feel Ros settle into gentle breathing, falling asleep against his chest. Unable to help himself, he rests a gentle hand against the back of her neck, feeling her heartbeat against his fingertips.
Their architect, alive, safe, and protected. As she should be. As she will be, as long as he and Sneeg had anything to say about it.
After a minute, the bedside lamp is turned off, and Sneeg lays down. He wraps his arm around Clown and Ros, ever the protector.
If it was anyone else, Clown would feel pinned, wary of being bed-trapped. He wonders when he stopped feeling that way, for these two.
Clown fights valiantly, as he always does, but the warmth and comfiness bring down heavy blows against him. Sleep is too strong of an enemy to defeat.
He drifts off once more, safe and peaceful in the arms of his fellow alchemists.