Work Text:
He hated Fridays.
Fridays were Gwen and Susie’s sleepover days. This was a known rule at the Blake household. Finney usually stayed home, finished homework, and tried not to draw attention to himself.
But today, Robin had insisted he come over after school. Practically dragging him along by the sleeve with a grin that left no room for protest. Finney didn’t mind. He loved Robin's house. It was loud in the good kind of way—background noises that sounded like life, not chaos. Mrs. Arellano had hugged him at the door, pulling him into a tight grip like she always had, calling him ‘Mi Cielo.’ He felt safe here.
Now, the credits of the movie rolled onto the screen, soft music playing over a small montage of bloopers that left the boys laughing to themselves. Their giggles faded into a quiet warmth that filled the room like a worn blanket. Robin stretched his arms over his head with a groan and grinned.
“Want a snack refill?”
Finney turned to him, a grin tugging at his lips. He gave a firm nod. Robin's smile grew at that— easy, and familiar. He jumped up, gathering the empty bowls that were scattered between them.
“Be right back,” he said, already halfway to the kitchen.
Finney leaned back, folding his legs up to his chest. The screen dimmed into black as the credits finished. The moment Robin left the room, a strange stillness crept in.
He hated that stillness.
He hated the idea of going home tonight.
The quiet there wasn’t peaceful. It was dangerous. Tense. He’d open the front door and be met with the smell he avoided each day— beer and old smoke, sour and sharp. Then the silence, heavy like a warning. Bottles on every surface. So many you’d think a whole party might’ve happened. But there was never a party. Just him. Just his father.
And Finney, tiptoeing.
Careful not to drop his bag too loud. Not to breathe too hard. Not to make any wrong moves.
Even breathing wrong could ruin his whole night.
He gripped his knees tighter. His chest falling like it was shrinking in on itself, one slow inch at a time.
He didn’t want to go back.
He blinked hard. Rubbing his hands over his face, trying to rid the feeling.
Robin returned, balancing bowls of chips and popcorn in his hands. He plopped down besides Finney, setting everything down with a dramatic thump.
Robin flopped beside him with a grin, about to crack a joke. But the second his eyes really landed on him, the smile faded.
“Finn?” His voice dropped to something quieter. “You alright?”
Finney swallowed. His throat felt tight, like the words had to fight their way out.
“I.. I don’t wanna go home tonight.”
There was a pause. Robin didn’t ask why.
“Then don’t,” he said immediately, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Stay the night. I’m sure my mama won’t mind.” His smile came back, softer this time. Reassuring.
Finney looked over, uncertainty in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
Robin nodded, that same soft smile. A little worried but steady. “Yeah, you’re not going anywhere.”
Something in Finney eased. Like a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding finally let go. His shoulders dropped the tiniest bit. The tightness in his chest leaving.
Robin handed him a bowl, scooting closer to the boy next to him.
“Now hurry up and pick a movie before I make us watch Texas chainsaw massacre again.”
Finney let out a quiet laugh. Just a little. But it was real.
——————
It was halfway through the movie. Finney had taken too long to choose, so Robin had just thrown on one of his go-to horror classics with a smug grin.
Finney, unsurprisingly, regretted not choosing.
Every few minutes, he’d jolt, grabbing Robin’s arm like it was a lifeline. Other times, he’d lift his hand to shield his face, peeking through his fingers as if that somehow made it less scary. Robin, of course, had made fun of him for it— teasing grin and all. But his tone had been light, affectionate.
Now, glancing over, robin caught sight of him huddled in on himself. Finney’s arms were crossed tightly, hands grabbing at his sleeves, shoulders curled inwards. He gave a little shiver. Not dramatic, barely noticeable. But it was enough.
Robin stood suddenly, muttering a quiet, “be right back” before jogging down the hallway.
Finney barely had time to register the warmth that left with him.
Less than thirty seconds later, robin returned with a thin blanket bundled in his arms. He dropped down beside Finney again, and without saying a word, spread the blanket across both of them. One arm stretched behind his back as he pulled him closer, until Finney pressed against his side.
For a moment, it was tense. Finney was stiff, unsure. His body didn’t quite know how to rest.
But robin didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just kept watching the screen with his arm still wrapped around him, offering him nothing but presence.
Eventually Finney leaned into it. The tension bled from his shoulder, bit by bit. His fingers unclenched. The heat of Robin's body seeped into his own, and the cold that had been wrapped around his chest all day began to fade.
A loud crash burst from the TV, pulling a gasp from both of them. Robin jumped. Finney flinched so hard he nearly dropped the bowl in his lap.
They burst into laughter. It started small, but grew loud and giddy, feeding off each other like only best friends could. Robin tossed a popcorn kernel at Finney’s head. Finney stuck his tongue out in retaliation. Muttering a small “shut up” through his grin.
Then they settled again.
The minutes passed slower now, the energy draining. The movie played on, but the tension of it faded into background noise. Somewhere in the quiet, Finney shifted closer— just a bit, and rested his head on Robin's shoulder. His hair was soft, still a little damp from when he’d taken a shower earlier. Robin glanced down, about to make a joke, but paused when he realised Finney had fallen asleep.
His breathing was even. Soft. Lips parted slightly. Eyes closed like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep— like his body had let go without asking for permission.
Robin didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.
Instead, he smiled. Small. Tired. Full of something too big to name.
He tightened the blanket around them and rested his cheek gently on top of finneys head. The credits were starting now, but robin wasn’t watching.
Not really.
With his arm still wrapped around Finney, he closed his eyes.
And for the first time in awhile, they both slept safe.
—
And If Mrs. Arellano happened to walk into the living room that night, ready to remind Finney it was time to go home.. Only to find the boys fast asleep under a blanket, heads resting against each other, she wouldn’t say a word.
She’d smile, mute the TV, and pull the blanket a little higher.
Because some things don’t need asking.
Some things are just understood.