Work Text:
”Come on, Elliot—you know you need sleep. This isn't the same all nighter you pull for whenever your routine takes longer than it should during your actual work life.”
Elliot and 007n7 were sitting within the same room—more specifically, the cabin. The one a little further away from everybody else.
That pizza boy’s leg fidgeted fast, bouncing up and down like an unstoppable clockwork. His hands were cusped, still doing that same tactic of attempting to ignore 007n7’s words.
Unfortunately… 007n7 was right. Elliot did need sleep.
Growing so used to shift after shift—from taking orders both over the cashier, phone—deliveries and using the truck at the same time—he almost always lived off of a single hour of sleep when he used to work in the parlor.
Now looking at his current situation, the poor boy only gets thirty minutes—if he’s lucky. The reasons were usually for being too scared to sleep—especially being alone. No amount of plushies or covering himself with a blanket could fix it.
Despite being so popular, and the lead worker of the entire parlor, Elliot barely had time for himself—it was always one hour to get ready for work, get back home very late and lack the patience to sleep—the cycle, repeat.
Even now it could still apply; be somewhat a good support to the best of his ability by conjuring up pizza, dying to one of killers because he can't survive a last man standing for the tears swarming up in his eyes for not healing his fellow teammates enough, and get a lack of sleep for thinking of his mistakes.
If there was anyone he didn't wanna be fully vulnerable to, it's—of course—007n7. He's the reason why his father even pressured him to become the workaholic he is today.
But, the act gets old—he’s slightly warmed up to 007n7 at this rate—seeing him get struck to a wall by his own son and him willingly accepting his death? It didn't bother Elliot much until recently. Only then it made him realize how much he's neglected 007n7’s feelings regarding, well—everything.
He didn't really know how to describe this hell. You just wake up, fight, get used to pain, cycle repeat. Already similar to Elliot’s old life when working as a minimum wage worker.
“You're the rich one to talk…” Elliot twirls a coil in his hair. “Aren't you overworking yourself during our rounds as well?”
“Rich one to talk—pretty sure you mean rich to talk,” 007n7 chuckled, kindly.
With kindness in his chuckle, resulted in a kick of the shin from Elliot—that, he did maybe deserve. A bit.
“I'm tired. You're tired. Grammar is tricky to keep up with when you're really stressed.”
“And that's why I want you to sleep,” 007n7 sighed. He did know the feeling of stress. “I know what you meant by me being rich to talk. It's… well, I dunno—I know it isn't too secret of my lack of sleep either. However, I do think you should try to sleep better than I do. I'm not overworking myself.”
“I don't need to.”
“This isn't the same shift of all nighters you pull. You do need to.”
Elliot tilted his head up to ‘defend’ himself. “You're being hypocritical! Like—twice in a row, now. Pack it up, this cabin belongs to you anyways.”
“And that's your counter. Because it's my cabin?”
“I'm not wrong—am I? I make a slightly good point here.”
“Only slightly,” 007n7 huffed, getting up from his chair. He pat any remaining dirt off of him, sitting down next to the stubborn pizza boy that legitimately refused to sleep. “This used to be Chance’s cabin, before. He offered it to me after he got a chance—heh, chance—to sleep within the main one.”
Elliot took a moment to get a good look at 007n7—the only time he got to get a good look at him was when he rushed to get a medkit for 007n7, who had been limping and resting his back on the wall.
He tilted 007n7’s chin up, checking for any type of scarring or slashes made across his throat. With bandages in hand, Elliot was quick to fix up 007n7 in the current moment more than himself—even using his teeth to rip the ends of the bandages off, quick to wrap it around 007n7’s wounds.
“You're an idiot.”
007n7 couldn't quite find it in him to mutter a word back—the slash wound from Jason made it hurt to talk any further. With sorrow and sweetened eyes, tears streaming like a river, he could only communicate an apology rather than a thank you for saving his life.
Elliot noticed the way 007n7 looked at him. It was then he realized how subconsciously — to consciously feeling so, so guilty for his mistreatment over 007n7 for the past couple months. Hundreds and hundreds of rounds, and it took Elliot one close up of 007n7’s face to humanize him.
It's not like he didn't humanize him. Rather—he viewed 007n7 as a pest, trying to get an apology from Elliot whenever the two were at their near deaths.
It made Elliot become a sacrifice with 007n7 right then and there. They both were bound to respawn, anyway. 007n7 should forget about that moment as soon as he's awake with Elliot.
“You're… You're an idiot, seven.” Elliot didn't quite mean it with malice, spoken a little sweeter than other times he's insulted 007n7.
“Wouldn't be the first time you call me that,” 007n7 chuckled once more. “I don't mind what you think of me.”
“Geez, you're such a nerd—” Elliot bumped his shoulder onto 007n7’s arm. He knew what 007n7 implied with his last sentence. After all, 007n7 wasn't the only people pleaser here in this cabin.
A slight awkward silence trailed behind the two—for a couple of seconds. Elliot found himself fiddling with his thumbs, while 007n7 stared down at the creaky floorboards. Both didn't exactly have the most positive of interactions until—quite literally—now.
007n7 broke the silence first, fixing his posture to be a little straighter. “No one's ever called me ‘Seven.’ Really, just about any nickname. Usually my own son would call me silly stuff like dada,” he gestured his hands, “or baba. Sometimes it included seven in there, funnily. Anybody ever called you anything?”
Elliot scrunched his lips. “Ell…? Elliot. Elliot in itself is technically a nickname.”
“Oh. I wouldn't have guessed.”
“It's because you don't have a normal name. I wouldn't understand," Elliot smirked.
“Normally, it's the other way around—that you'd understand,” 007n7 tilted his head to the side, playfully.
“Elliot is definitely much more normal than how you pronounce your name.”
“Fair, fair…” 007n7 put his hands behind him, leaning behind a bit on the shared bed. “Accidentally kept you up a little longer than I expected, didn't I. Sorry.”
Elliot muttered an ‘oh’ sound. “It's fine. It's… it's definitely better when I have someone to talk to. Especially during the night when I can't sleep. I should be sorry for keeping you up, though.”
“Told you I don't sleep the best at night myself. You're fine. Don't see why you're sorry.”
“Hey! I don't see why you're sorry.”
“…There’s a lot of things I'm already meant to be sorry for, Elliot.” 007n7 trails off: put, pathetically.
A second elbow bump has hit the 007n7 towers—again, rightfully so. The pathetic twang he puts on Elliot’s name gives the pizza boy a bit of a shot to the heart.
“Next thing you should be sorry for is how cheesy you are—” Elliot paused. “—forget about bombing the pizzeria, for now. I’d like to focus on getting out of here first. Then you can make it up to me by seeing me in the pizzeria sometime.”
“Preettty sure you're forgetting I'm banned from there? If I remember, correctly.”
“I can just fetch a fifteen minute break and you meet me on the side of the building. My dad doesn't need to know everything I do.”
“He doesn't trust me. Mr. Builder might know you're meeting with a banned customer.”
Elliot leans his body slightly into 007n7. “That's only a might, seven—here I thought I’ve been the one taking the other survivors here too seriously.”
“Trust me—well, don't—but—” 007n7 stammers, “I take a lot of people accidentally serious. I understand you more than you think.”
“Suppose you do…” Elliot softly smiles. That might've been the first genuine smile 007n7 saw from him for months and months of hell—maybe this was the type of escape Elliot described to 007n7. “I think it's safe to say I trust you somewhat. Although, I do feel a little tired.”
“You can sleep now!” 007n7 nodded his head urgently.
“You have sleeping problems, and I have sleeping problems. Where do you think this'll end up?”
“I couuuld… Watch you sleep.”
“You need sleep. You're the one who has cloning and survival abilities.”
“And you're the one healing people—I'm not helping anyone.” 007n7 scoffs. “I'm running and running. If my c00lgui doesn't misbehave, then I get to teleport."
“You're distracting the killer! That's helpful as is. I just hand people pizza and they die anyway."
“We all die, Elliot." 007n7 looked down. "It's the same old end result. Don't be too hard on yourself."
Elliot thuds his back down onto the bed, irritatedly, “You're misunderstanding my point,” he groaned. "You're the one being hard on yourself!"
“I'm not. You are. This is why I urge you to sleep more. I'm trying to reassure you here."
“You don't know me enough that I don't like when people watch me sleep. Reminds me of a killer waiting to attack me when I wake up.” Elliot let out an exasperated sigh.
007n7 pondered. “Do you wanna sleep together?”
Without much thought, clearly. Elliot’s eyebrows stitched together with a look of concern, the force bringing him to sit back up.
“I-I reckon I worded that weirdly.”
Elliot, unamused, could only stare at 007n7 in hopes he would explain himself better. “You—you don't just ask to sleep with someone. I'm not giving myself up to you all because I said I trusted you.”
“NO! No—like—I can sleep next to you! Like that!” 007n7’s face burnt up with embarrassment, clasping his hands in a fist. “It's okay if you don't want to, I just—thought it was a good idea. A safe idea, so it doesn't seem like I'd murder you in your sleep.”
Shaking his head, Elliot laughed. “It's not like you seem to be the type of guy to kill me in my sleep.”
“Well, that's—that’s good.” 007n7 swallowed dryly. “Hope I wouldn't ever come off that way.”
“I save your butt frequently and see how you look at pizza like it's your son. I personally am a firm believer you wouldn't kill me.”
007n7 nervously chuckled, placing his hand behind his neck—scratching. “Yeah… Um. Say, you wanna try to sleep now?”
“We don't have much else to talk about. Do we?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“I'll safely assume we don't since you and I can't seem to make up our minds,” Elliot scoot away from the touch of 007n7, adjusting his position to lay down on the bed. “There's enough space here. It's not like I'll plummet you off the bed with one kick.”
“Wouldn't blame you, though…”
“Alright, man, you've proven your loserness enough tonight. Four hours of sleep should be fine for both of us.”
Elliot flipped to his side, an unsure invitation to 007n7 whether or not it was asking him to hold him.
If it is true, then 007n7 can accept the fate of being elbowed in his gut for a million years—it's honestly a bit better than the current fate he has going on right now, with the whole hell subplot of his life.
Unknowing Elliot, who would get another airplane struck right to his heart, had been 007n7 shifting covers around the bed and laying behind him.
Hesitantly, 007n7 reached one hand over Elliot’s waist, slipping and holding him like a purse.
Elliot was wordless on the matter—too tired to voice his flustered self—he didn't have any problem, rather just trying not to focus on this too much.
The matter of 007n7’s sandpaper textured-like hand and him carefully placing his arm over Elliot’s skin was a topic for future Elliot to come back to another day. Right now, it was sleeping—if he could.
Luckily for the both of them, it got them to sleep ever so peacefully, unknowingly basking in each other's presence without outright admitting it. At least, out loud.