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It was too easy to start dozing off after they finished. Epsilon didn't need to sleep, of course, but doing so provided some benefits beyond physical and mental rejuvenation. He liked dreaming, especially when Childe was around and the dreams were mostly good; Epsilon knew it was silly, but it always felt like the Eleventh’s presence kept the bad ones at bay. Like the lofty ideals the young warrior had for himself were somehow true, and that he could fend off demons and monsters even from places he couldn't reach. Sometimes Epsilon dreamed about that—about heroes and knights who were just as impermeable as they seemed, living in a world where fairness and benevolence were just the natural order. Though that sort of thing was a bit too quixotic for him to entertain for long, even when he was at his most relaxed.
More often than not, Epsilon would dream of very common things. Peaceful days of rest or enriching days of work. Now and again, a rare pleasant memory from his childhood might even play itself out, pure and untainted by significance. But sometimes, there wouldn't even be a time or place to recall. It would just be a vague feeling of felicity, like the sweet smell of fresh Fontanian pastries on the air, or the sound of raindrops quenching parched desert sand. A feeling of fulfillment and catharsis with no discernable source, inviting his weary consciousness into a gentle fugue.
These were the “dreams” Epsilon liked the most. A place for his mind to rest and not wander. And if he was really lucky, sometimes that feeling would persist even as he drifted back to consciousness. A sleepless creature would inevitably stir, after all, but for just a moment, that unconscious serenity would remain. It followed him into the waking world, playing off the warm, lithe body lying beside him, greeting the soft night that surrounded them as his eyelids fluttered open. And as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw—
Two harsh, burning points of scarlet, boring into him with all the intensity of twin laser beams.
Epsilon drew a sharp breath inward, gasping and reeling back as his sense of peace was demolished in one fell swoop. And this was the folly of sleeping when one had no business doing so; the confusion and grogginess that followed being rudely awoken from one’s slumber was an avoidable nuisance, yet one he willingly subjected himself to time and time again. By the time he was lucid enough to piece together what he was looking at, a voice in his head sought to desecrate his state of bliss even further.
“Oh, calm down. Why are you making a fuss?”
Epsilon blinked rapidly at the set of piercing red eyes across from him—Omega’s, of course, for even in his deepest bliss, Epsilon was not fortunate enough to have fully forgotten the eldest Segment’s inclusion in the night’s activities. After the fog came the storm, a fury only muddled by lingering drowsiness.
“You—!” Epsilon blustered, only speaking through the network out of a stupefied sense of obligation. Though his lips remained closed, he was spitting mad as he shrank back from Omega in disdain. “Don’t act like I’m the one being strange! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Can’t you go two goddamn seconds without gawking at me like a slack-jawed jackass?! You scared me half to death, you sociopathic fr—”
“Stop screaming,” Omega interrupted wearily. He had his elbow propped up on the bed with his head resting on a closed fist, looking very disinterested in both Epsilon’s ire and the fact that he’d been caught in the act. That was no real surprise; it was not the first time he’d been caught staring, and it certainly would not be the last. But Omega averted his gaze then, distantly adding, “And don’t flatter yourself.”
Epsilon followed Omega’s line of sight to find that it fell just between them. Despite the younger Segment’s earlier gasp and subsequent jerk backwards, Childe was still fast asleep. He was sandwiched between the two Segments, laid out a bit too much like a stiff corpse—Epsilon didn't understand how the boy could sleep like that, flat on his back with his arms straight out at his sides, and without even the slightest toss or turn during the night—but the rise and fall of his chest was steady, and there was still even a ruddy, scampish glow to his cheeks as he slept. Oh, how did the scoundrel manage to look so annoyingly pleased with himself even while fully unconscious? They really should have stopped indulging him with these little ménage à trois nights by now… The boy’s head was liable to fly off with how big it was getting. That being said, Epsilon always found it difficult to say no to him—not that he would ever admit such a thing out loud.
So, it was Childe that Omega was staring at… That hardly made things any better, and if anything, it somehow made Epsilon feel a little put out. It wasn't like he wanted Omega to stare at him—Archons knew he got enough of that when they were by themselves—but he couldn't help but feel indignant. To be woken up so unpleasantly by such a ghastly leer and not even be the object of its gaze… Oh, what a waste of a good dream!
Epsilon let out a quiet huff, sinking back into the sheets and squeezing his eyes shut.
“I’ll ask you to do the same!” he retorted. “Just keep it down over there!”
“I’m not the one making noise…”
“Shush!” Epsilon hissed. With that, he threw the covers over his head, bidding sleep and good dreams to come find him once more.
Easier said than done. Now that he knew Omega was wide awake and that his intimidating, enigmatic gaze was piercing through the night, Epsilon couldn't ignore it for the life of him. Even when those eyes weren’t on him, he could still sense their intense scrutiny… He tried to brush it off, tossing and turning and fidgeting for several minutes until it finally grew too much to bear. Epsilon slowly peeked out from under the blankets, holding onto the hope that perhaps Omega had gotten bored during that time and finally laid his head down to rest. But deep down, he knew better; he was not surprised to see Omega in the exact same position he’d left him in, still gawking at Childe’s sleeping face, but that fact did little to quell his fury.
“Stop doing that!” Epsilon snapped, throwing the blanket off his head to shoot a glare in Omega’s direction.
Omega gave him only the barest of regards, his eyes flickering to the young Segment in annoyance before returning to Childe’s face. “Stop doing what?”
“You fucking know what! Don’t play dumb! Just leave him alone, he’s trying to sleep!”
“You’re the only one at risk of waking him.” Omega deigned to give Epsilon a withering glance. “I’m doing nothing that would disturb him.”
“Yeah, but you’re giving me the creeps!” Epsilon argued. “If you’re bored enough to gawk at him like that, you might as well go to sleep!”
“I do not care to indulge in frivolous activities,” Omega said coldly. Epsilon rolled his eyes. Even if they didn't need sleep, only a snob like Omega could call it something “frivolous” with a straight face. And as if pleased with his own assessment, the eldest Segment finally smirked, looking back down at Childe with a self-satisfied expression. “I am not ‘bored,’ either. I’m actually quite enjoying myself.”
“That’s even creepier!” Epsilon cried, grimacing in disgust. “Do you even hear yourself at times like this?!”
“You’re overreacting,” Omega monotoned. “Besides, I find it difficult to believe that you have never spared a glance or two at our little sleeping beauty here.”
Epsilon froze instinctively, all at once feeling cornered. Omega was correct, though Epsilon was loath to admit it—he could recall several times he’d been too antsy to sleep and simply stared vacantly at his bedmate until he could drum up the motivation to get up and dress himself. Sometimes it probably went on for a while, too… But that had to be different! Epsilon only watched him when there was nothing better to look at; Omega was watching him like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
“N—not like that, at least!” Epsilon stammered. “You’re just staring at him like his head’s about to grow legs and run off! Is this what you always do?”
“Yes,” Omega said, without missing a beat. “I don't see a problem with it.”
“That’s because you’re a freak!” Epsilon blustered. He was flabbergasted. Sometimes it seemed like Omega really couldn't hear himself when he spoke. He had confirmed the accusation without an ounce of shame or hesitation… Epsilon sighed aloud, albeit very quietly. He didn't really know where to go from there. Insults and mockery only went so far when they were hitting a brick wall. “Don’t you at least— I don't know, touch him or something?”
On a certain level, imagining that—and subsequently inviting it in—felt even more mortifying. But Epsilon supposed that was what bothered him the most about the whole thing; Omega’s regard for Childe was an extremely and awkwardly intimate one that was seemingly being performed without a shred of sentimentality. The gesture didn't even come close to matching the emotion, which was a dissonance Epsilon frequently struggled to reconcile when it came to Omega. It was somewhat of a morbid fascination, his desire to discover what logic the eldest Segment operated by, even when it was apparent he wouldn't like the answer. Now, Omega just gave him a somewhat blank look, his expression resting somewhere between annoyance and a curiosity of his own.
“He sleeps light,” Omega said plainly. He seemed to believe that was all that needed to be said, and Epsilon felt taken aback. He didn't touch Childe because he feared waking him up? Was that really it? Childe did frequently both laud and bemoan his ability to rise from a dead sleep at the drop of a pin, and maybe that should have been obvious, seeing as it was the most reasonable, considerate thing to do—but Omega was far from considerate, and now Epsilon was beginning to doubt his reason, too.
Finally, biting back an audible scoff, Epsilon took his pointer finger and jabbed it unceremoniously into the sleeping boy’s cheek. Omega actually looked a bit startled by it, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as he shot Epsilon an incredulous glare.
“He’s a liar, see?” Epsilon said, digging his finger in a bit deeper to punctuate the statement. Sure enough, Childe did not wake. He did stir slightly, a small snort escaping him and eyes twitching behind his lids as his unconscious body attempted to process the assault. But in the end, he fell still once more. Epsilon was awarded with nothing but a drop of saliva that suddenly dribbled out of the corner of the boy’s mouth and grazed his probing finger. He withdrew it in disgust, wiping it off on Childe’s shoulder before letting out a quiet sigh. “Either that, or he just overestimates himself. He thinks it’s something to brag about… But I’ve sneaked out plenty of times before without waking him. As long as you don't make too much noise, he’ll sleep right through stuff like this. Have you really never even tried it before?”
Omega did not answer. His piercing gaze shifted carefully between Epsilon and Childe, finally settling back on the latter with pensive regard. The silence spoke volumes more than any words could have, and yet left Epsilon with even more questions than he started with.
Omega was… very strange sometimes. Not even in an intimidating or esoteric sort of way—just strange. He was pragmatic to a fault, yet his sense of reason was so imperiously warped it often bordered on idealism. He behaved unscrupulously, even by the collective’s standards, but adhered to the arbitrary boundaries he did occasionally establish for himself with unwavering discipline. He was possessive, in a sense. But it seemed like he never quite believed that anything was truly “his” to begin with—like the things he wanted were always dangling just out of his reach, regardless of how close they really were.
Maybe Epsilon was reading too much into it. He realized that he was now the one with an overly intense stare, and he didn't know how long it had been glued to Omega. The eldest Segment’s attention was still on Childe, and he did not notice. A part of Epsilon was relieved he didn’t; another part wished he would. Nevertheless, Epsilon looked back at Childe with him, growing thoughtful as he watched the young man sleep.
“Sometimes I like him better like this,” Epsilon thought suddenly. He didn't know what brought it on, nor why he allowed Omega to hear it. The eldest Segment seemed intrigued by the statement, even tearing his eyes away from their bedmate and raising an eyebrow at him curiously.
“Why?” he asked earnestly.
Epsilon didn't answer right away. He prodded Childe’s cheek again as he considered it. He was gentler this time, just barely dimpling his skin as Childe let out a quiet little snore. The Eleventh was very svelte in figure, but his cheeks were bright and full and made him look younger than he actually was. Epsilon had the same problem, though he didn't think Childe considered it a problem at all. Childe didn't give a damn how he was perceived, didn't agonize over things he didn't know or things he could not change—Childe could take himself in stride. Epsilon sighed gently and let his hand come to rest against Childe's bare chest.
“When his eyes are open, he looks at you like he’s expecting something out of you,” Epsilon muttered distantly. “He doesn't think he expects that much, but he does. I just don't want to be the one who makes him realize he won’t find what he’s looking for.”
Omega fell silent. For a brief moment, his eyes wandered to a space neither Childe nor Epsilon occupied. “Lofty expectations are better than none at all.”
And that was a strange thing to say, too. It went deeper than either of them could see, but pointing that out to Omega or trying to get to the bottom of it on his own would probably just start a fight Epsilon couldn't win. Omega didn't like things he couldn't see. Epsilon, conversely, supposed he’d just gotten used to the feeling by now.
“I don’t know about that…” Epsilon said vaguely. “Anyway, don't go changing the subject.”
“Me?” Omega shot him a withering glare. “You’re the one that—”
“Oh, be quiet!” Epsilon hissed. He withdrew his hand from Childe’s chest, balling it into a fist and holding it menacingly over the boy. “If you don’t quit, I’ll punch him straight in the ribs, I swear it!”
One of Omega’s eyebrows shot up behind his unkempt fringe, and he sounded more bewildered than irritated. “And why are we directing our anger onto an innocent party, now?”
“You shouldn't go looming over sleeping people like that! If you’re not gonna give up, the least I can do is wake him up so he knows he’s being ogled.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Omega droned sarcastically. “I’m sure the first thing he'll do when his coherence returns is applaud your idiotic assault.”
“Just go to sleep,” Epsilon insisted with a sigh, lowering his hand. “Maybe it is a waste of time for us, but it can be nice sometimes. You might dream.”
“What kind of cold-blooded reptile do you take me for? You say it like you assume I don’t.” A wry, jagged laugh rang through Epsilon’s head, and Omega rolled over on his back and offered a smile to the ceiling that did not match his eyes. “I dream.”
Epsilon, of course, had not consciously assumed anything otherwise. But now that they were on the subject, he realized he couldn't quite picture it. He blinked at Omega curiously, asking, “About what?”
“Nothing worth chasing,” Omega said flatly.
Epsilon didn't know how to respond to that. But it made him start thinking, and perhaps just a bit too much. Omega did so often advise him that he was prone to overthinking. Epsilon assumed these reminders were just a means of keeping him docile, but sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if it was partially true. Maybe only one who thought too much for his own good could look upon that dark, cryptic expression of a man who had once hurt him in ways too profound to define and see something pitiable there. Maybe Epsilon was just a fool who secretly entertained the notion that a charming young warrior’s presence could dispel bad dreams—or maybe the foolish part was assuming Childe was the one who might have any accidental influence over his dreams. Epsilon did not sleep often, and his bedmates were few. When he fell asleep with Childe, his dreams were good; when he was with Omega, they were not. Of the latter kind, he usually remembered very little of the dreams when he woke up. The only things that really stuck with him were a general sense of lethargy, despair, and sometimes even fear.
And once in a while, the notion that he hadn't quite felt like himself during it.
Epsilon was definitely overthinking things, he finally decided. There was far too much thinking going on between them for his taste… It was starting to feel ridiculous, carrying on like a couple of gossiping girls at a slumber party, with nothing but Childe’s oafish snores to fill the silence. Epsilon watched the young man for just a bit longer, if only to avoid catching Omega’s eye, drawing little circles on his shoulder with the tip of his finger.
“I think… if you fall asleep now, you’ll have a good one,” Epsilon said.
“Oh?” Omega responded, sounding a bit intrigued. Epsilon could hear him shifting his weight around on the other side of the bed. “And do you have any basis for this claim?”
“Not really,” Epsilon replied softly. “It’s just a feeling.”
Omega paused. Then, after a few beats, he said, “I’m afraid that is insufficient grounds for proposing an experiment. Your theory is completely devoid of logic or reason.”
“Oh— Stuff it, shitdick!” His patience all at once expended, Epsilon shot up to give Omega a scalding glare, his fist coming up over Childe’s sleeping form once more. “Just give it a fucking rest! I swear to God, I’ll smack him silly!”
“Oh, fine,” Omega relented, rolling his eyes. He answered so quickly, it caught Epsilon off guard—this was likely his intention, because he smirked at the younger Segment’s dumbstruck expression as he turned back on his side. “If it is somehow the only thing that will quell your inexplicable fury, then I can indulge you for tonight. Heaven forbid the little lord not get his way.”
Epsilon pursed his lips tightly as a blush rose to his cheeks. How was it that he could win an argument and still feel like he lost? This man was insufferable! Who cared if he had bad or good dreams, anyway? Epsilon hoped he had nothing but nightmares for the rest of his miserable life! He let out an indignant harrumph, turning his back to the two and settling back under the covers indignantly.
“Whatever!” Epsilon huffed. “Just don’t wake me up again!”
“I’ll try to refrain,” Omega chortled. “Good night, then, sweet prince.”
He was just teasing, and Epsilon knew that—so damn his heart for fluttering anyway. Omega always had to get the last word in… Epsilon knew he should let it go and not stoop to his level, otherwise they’d be up all night squabbling. Still, even as his anger cooled and the room grew placid once more, he couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied. Eventually, Epsilon couldn't stop himself from sneakily peering over his shoulder.
Omega had evidently followed through on his word. He was at rest now, and his eyes were closed. He somehow looked more like a corpse than Childe did, as if he’d forgotten how to assume the position naturally. His body was a bit rigid, and his features too still. The only part of him that did not appear to be wound up tighter than a spring was one of his hands; at some point, it had drifted over to Childe, and his fingers were absentmindedly stroking a lock of hair at the top of his head.
For a second, Epsilon thought the sight might make him feel a little jealous. But instead, it just made him smile a bit. And with a whisper that he knew neither Childe nor Omega would hear, he did, indeed, get the last word in.
“Good night.”