Work Text:
By the third night without sleep, 007n7 was no longer tired in any normal, recognizable sense.
He had crossed straight past exhaustion—past the point where his body begged, pleaded, and threatened him for rest. Now it simply refused to cooperate out of sheer, malicious spite. His limbs felt both heavy and hollow, like they were filled with wet sand and nothing at all. His thoughts looped endlessly, stuttering halfway through ideas before restarting them from the beginning, over and over again. Every shadow in his dorm room felt just a little too sharp, every sound just a little too loud, as if the world had decided to turn its contrast up specifically to torment him.
He stared at the ceiling, tracing the cracks and stains in the paint.
One. Two. Three.
He’d already counted them all. Multiple times.
“…Yeah,” he muttered hoarsely, weak into the dark. “I’m definitely losing it.”
Three days.
No sleep.
Not even a nap.
His eyes burned like they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper, his head throbbed in a slow, nauseating rhythm, and his heart felt like it was running entirely on caffeine, adrenaline, and unresolved panic. He had tried everything—lying perfectly still, flipping from side to side, scrolling through his phone until the screen dimmed and died, staring into the darkness like he could intimidate sleep into showing up out of fear.
Nothing.
Sleep didn’t even hover nearby. It was gone. On vacation. Laughing at him from a distance.
With a long, irritated groan, 007n7 shoved himself upright. The bed creaked loudly beneath him, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
“Useless,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Absolutely useless.”
He grabbed his jacket and yanked it on, movements sloppy and uncoordinated. Slipping out of the dorm, he let the door click shut behind him as quietly as possible. The hallway lights buzzed faintly overhead, their hum drilling straight into his skull. By the time he reached the exit, his jaw was clenched tight enough to hurt.
Outside, the night air hit him like a slap.
Cold. Sharp. Real.
He sucked in a breath and started walking.
The town was nearly empty at this hour. Streetlights cast dull yellow pools across cracked sidewalks, storefronts dark and lifeless, windows reflecting a tired, hollow-eyed version of himself back at him. He shoved his headphones on and cranked the music louder than he probably should have, the sound blasting directly into his skull—partly to drown out his thoughts, partly to keep himself from spiraling into something worse.
Normally, nights like this meant hacking. Small jobs. Low-risk distractions. Something to keep his hands busy while his brain burned itself out. But tonight, even that felt exhausting. Screens felt unbearable. Code blurred together in his mind.
He didn’t want to think.
He just wanted his brain to shut up.
Which was exactly why he didn’t notice the presence behind him.
Didn’t hear the footsteps pacing his own.
Didn’t feel the subtle shift in the air.
Didn’t sense the attention settling on him like a weight.
When it happened, it happened fast.
Two clawed hands seized him around the torso and yanked him clean off the ground.
“What the—HEY—!” 007n7 shrieked, legs kicking wildly as panic slammed into him full force. “PUT ME THE #### DOWN YOU MOTHER ######—”
A hand clamped over his mouth.
Hard.
The rest of his scream died in his throat, reduced to muffled, furious swearing as he thrashed uselessly. His heart slammed violently against his ribs, pulse roaring in his ears as he was hoisted higher, dangling like an angry, sleep-deprived decoration.
Then his chin was tilted up.
He was forced to look.
Oh.
Of course.
Telamon’s stupidly tall form loomed over him, holding him with insulting ease. The deity looked entirely too pleased, wearing that infuriating smirk that suggested this was, somehow, the highlight of his evening.
“It seems Telamon has finally caught you, hacker,” Telamon said smugly, tilting his head.
The hand over 007n7’s mouth vanished.
“#### YOU!” 007n7 snapped instantly, his voice cracking with rage and exhaustion. “I wasn’t even doing anything! I was literally just trying to get tired!”
Telamon blinked.
Once.
Then tilted his head again, brows furrowing slightly. “Trying… to get tired?”
“YES,” 007n7 snapped. “That’s how sleep works when your brain hates you.”
Telamon studied him with unsettling intensity, golden eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Why can you not sleep?” he asked. “Do mortals not simply… fall unconscious?”
The question hit harder than expected.
007n7’s kicking slowed. Then stopped.
“…Some of us don’t,” he admitted quietly. “Some people can’t shut their brains off. Some people just… don’t sleep right.”
Telamon stared down at him, silent.
“Hm,” he hummed at last. “Telamon never considered this flaw.”
“Wow,” 007n7 deadpanned weakly. “Thanks. Great to know I’m defective.”
Telamon ignored the sarcasm. He was still holding him in the air, expression thoughtful now—dangerously thoughtful, like a predator deciding what to do with something fragile.
“So,” 007n7 said carefully, “now that we’ve had our educational moment… can you put me down?”
Telamon’s lips curled into a grin.
“No.”
Reality folded.
007n7 barely had time to scream before the world snapped back into place, dumping them into a massive, opulent room bathed in dim golden light. The air felt thick—ancient, heavy with something old and powerful. The bed alone was absurdly large, layered in dark silks and gold-trimmed fabric that looked like they’d never known discomfort.
“HEY—WHERE ARE WE?!” 007n7 shouted. “I HAVE CLASSES TOMORROW!”
“Do not worry,” Telamon replied calmly, already moving toward the bed. “Telamon is providing you with a superior sleeping environment. Your previous one was clearly ineffective.”
“I can’t just stay here!” 007n7 snapped. “I’ll miss class! I’ll fall behind again!”
Telamon stopped
.
He turned slowly, eyes narrowing, the humor draining from his expression.
“You are already breaking,” he said softly. “Many days without sleep is dangerous.”
The words sent a chill down 007n7’s spine.
Before he could argue, Telamon dropped him onto the mattress. He bounced once, yelping as the impossibly soft bed swallowed him whole.
“This is kidnapping,” 007n7 growled.
“Incorrect,” Telamon replied, reclining beside him. “This is intervention.”
He lifted 007n7 with ease and placed him directly on his chest. One massive hand settled firmly against the hacker’s back, fingers splayed possessively, anchoring him in place.
“HEY—!” 007n7 struggled, face burning. “Don’t—don’t do that!”
“Do not fight,” Telamon said, voice low and firm. “Your body is failing.”
“…I hate you,” 007n7 muttered weakly.
“Yes,” Telamon agreed easily. “Many do.”
He didn’t loosen his grip.
007n7 tried to move again. Failed. Telamon was warm—too warm. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath him, heartbeat slow, deep, and unnervingly calm.
And worst of all?
It felt good.
His muscles began to relax despite himself, tension bleeding out of him in slow, traitorous waves.
“…This is messed up,” he mumbled, his voice already fading.
“Sleep,” Telamon said quietly.
The darkness took him fast.
Telamon watched as the hacker’s breathing evened out, his head slipping naturally to rest against the deity’s chest. Within minutes, he was completely, utterly asleep—no tossing, no muttering, no restless twitching.
Telamon stayed still.
He did not need sleep.
But he did not move.
One clawed hand remained steady on 007n7’s back, grounding, protective. The other brushed idly through the hacker’s hair, slow and absentminded.
“This fragile thing,” Telamon murmured. “Interesting.”
A small, unsettling fondness settled in his chest.
And Telamon decided—
He would not let this one break.