Work Text:
It was an abnormally stormy night in Rondon. The sky was packed with dark clouds and the howling wind denounced how intensely the rain poured. The weather was quite foggy and Daan could hardly see the city from where he was, nor he cared much to know what was happening outside. People were inside their houses protecting themselves from the storm and on these kinds of days the streets of Rondon were dangerous. He remembered reading in the newspaper a case about a man murdered gruesomely on a rainy day. As a doctor and previous soldier, he knew well how rain could wash away important evidence, worsen medical cases and destroy documents. Daan didn't want to think much about it.
He was enjoying a cup of warm tea while listening to the radio—he didn't pay attention to what the woman was singing—and wishing the chamomile tea would do the job of making him sleepy enough to have a good night; only three days passed after he left the nightmare that was Prehevil and went back to Rondon. Memories from that cursed city plagued his mind and some days he slept less than 1 hour, the Festival of Termina being the culprit for this.
Daniël adjusted his silk night robe and decided to get up and turn off the radio; he wasn't paying attention anyway. He put the half-empty cup on top of the center table and stretched his arm a bit to reach the radio, immediately turning it off, but as soon as he was going back to the sofa, Daan heard strong knocking noises on the door. Who could it be, considering the weather and the hour? Again, more knocking and he promptly went to open it.
The doctor’s eye widened when he saw the figure of a soaking wet Marcoh standing there, visibly tired and looking at his condition he’d certainly catch a cold if not treated properly. His curls were stuck on his forehead, his green combat jacket didn't match the rest of the clothes so Daan assumed he decided to bring something to keep him warm in the last seconds before leaving his home.
“Marcoh? Alll-mer alive, please enter! You’ll catch a cold if you stay there.” Von Dutch helped him remove the jacket as he entered and put it on the coat rack to dry. “I’ll grab a towel for you, one moment.”
He was fast with the towel, fortunately the bathroom is the closest room to the living room. When Daniël came back, he saw the boxer removing his shirt and putting it aside, on top of his wet pants. Sadly he couldn't lend him clothes because of the great difference between physiques; he wished he could do more to help the boxer, only a towel and somewhere to stay for the night wasn't enough for the doctor.
“Here,” he handed the object to his… friend. “Dry yourself, don't need to hurry. You can stay here tonight, it's dangerous outside around these hours.”
“Sorry for suddenly appearing at your door. I-I couldn't sleep.” The confession caught the dutch by surprise.
“Can you tell me more about it?” He sat on the sofa and the italian came closer, sitting on the floor, in between Daan's legs. “Let me help you with your hair.”
Marcoh let the doctor dry his hair, slowly and even tenderly. Daniël wasn't in a hurry, in the end he would spend the night in his house so he could take all the time to give proper attention to the boxer. That situation reminded him of the second day in Prehevil, by the night he and Marcoh went to the lake nearby the slums to wash themselves after a whole day of fighting monstrosities and all kind of filth was glued onto their clothes, skin and hair. The italian was hurt, his right arm got a nasty deep scratch caused by those strange child-like creatures in the orphanage and he needed to be aided with the simple task of drying his hair.
“I had a nightmare. So real I woke up in cold sweat, touching my body to know if I was in one piece. You were in that.” he spoke slower than normal, as if he tried to organise his own memories of the dream. “You were half-dead, I was desperate, I tried to sleep again but…”
“But…?”
“Can’t sleep without you, Daan. I’m… scared.” his baritone voice acquired a tone that was a mix between fear, concern and passion. The doctor felt his heart melt at the confession.
He remembered how weak he is for Marcoh, how that gentle and strong man made his heart flutter everytime they interacted in that sleepy town, how comfortable he felt around him. Daniël’s cheeks got warm at the memory of their first kiss, of the tenderness living in Santoro’s arms, of how safe he felt after all of that mess. And honestly, maybe having someone he trusted with him that night to share a bed could help him with his own bad dreams and sleepless nights.
“We’re far away from that place; I’m here with you now.” The left sleeve of his robes fell a bit but Daniël didn't bother to put it back to the right place. He put the towel next to him, then his hands went to the boxer’s cheeks, cupping them gently, making him tilt his head to meet the dutch’s gaze. “Sleeping in the same bed as me would soothe your mind?”
“Anything that could make me sure you're alive.”
“It’ll be it then.” Daniël hesitated at first but decided to lean down and leave a soft kiss on his forehead. He hoped himself wasn't misunderstanding the situation. “We can go to my bedroom now, if you like.”
“Can I hug you there…?”
“Yes, you can.” A tiny smile appeared on the doctor’s lips. “Shall we go?”
Santoro quickly fell asleep in Daan’s arms, head resting on his chest, steady breathing and tranquil expression. He's warm and maybe it's because he's almost naked—only his briefs preventing it—or not. Maybe he is naturally warm and soft. It's nice to hug him; a huge teddy bear to the dutch. That whole situation is weird not in a negative way, all that happened in the past 4 days were a lot to process; they promised to keep in touch after escaping from Prehevil but Daniël didn't think he’d appear at his door 3 days after. Either way, he missed the boxer's company and it may be the case for him too, missing the doctor he met in that city.
Marcoh's curls were fluffy and nice to stroke; lazy movements filled with a feeling of something close to passion. Daan enjoyed being with him, he felt feelings for the other man but everything was considerably new and recent, both need time, but it surely doesn't mean they can't indulge in some physical affection secretly. Maybe both wanted some of it. Daniël didn't immediately sleep, instead he chose to keep soothing the man resting peacefully on top of him, caressing his skin, toying with his curls.
One day they could be doing this again, hopefully in happier circumstances. Until then, he could work with the present. Staying with Marcoh is something he’ll never be tired of.