Work Text:
Yamato felt Hibiki’s arm tighten over his stomach, and he paused his typing, hands hovering over the keys as he waited. There was a long, quiet pause, broken only by the soft, slow breathing of his partner. Once assured that Hibiki was still asleep, Yamato resumed typing, the glow of the laptop reflecting off of the lens of his glasses.
It was nearing four in the morning, but Hibiki had distracted him from a slew of paperwork that he really should have done. It was shameful how easily Hibiki could turn his head from work, sometimes. Five minutes became two hours plus a three hour nap of satisfaction, ten minutes became eight hours of- well. In short, Hibiki was a menace to productivity and Yamato’s precious sleep schedule. Ah, where were the days where he was perpetually on top of his work? Gone with the wind, that’s where.
“…nh, mn…”
Yamato paused again at the noise, waiting, but Hibiki quietened and kept breathing slowly. He frowned and resumed typing. Hibiki was normally a quiet sleeper. He barely fidgeted and – in fact – slept like the dead. He could sleep for hours on end in one single position, and somehow not wake up with cramps or aches. Sometimes Yamato thought he simply wasn’t human.
Hibiki suddenly shifted, his arm tightening almost painfully around Yamato’s waist. He grunted, gripping the edge of his laptop to make sure it didn’t slip off his thighs as he tried to pry Hibiki’s arm off of his waist. Ah, ow, that was beginning to hurt-
Hibiki suddenly made a low noise that briefly made Yamato’s hair stand on end, his leg giving a spasm as his breathing became erratic. It only took a split second for Yamato to put two and two together, and he cursed quietly. The lid of the laptop was closed, and quickly shoved onto the bedside table as Hibiki began to tremble and shake against his side, making pained, animal-like noises that grew in volume with each passing second.
“Hibiki,” Yamato murmured, twisting in the vice-like grip Hibiki had around his waist, grabbing onto his shoulder and shaking him roughly. The arm around him only tightened to the point of bruising, but Yamato only grunted in discomfort. He shook him harder; “Hibiki!”
Hibiki jolted awake with a gasp, bolting up onto his elbow with his eyes slightly wild. Yamato kept his hand on his shoulder, quickly catching his gaze and said very clearly; “Hibiki. It was a dream.”
Hibiki stared at him like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, his body still shaking under Yamato’s hand. In the dim light streaming past the curtains, Yamato could see that Hibiki’s skin was sickly pale and clammy with sweat, his breaths still coming out in erratic bursts.
“Dream?” Hibiki repeatedly thickly, but a bit of clarity was starting to come to his eyes now.
“Dream,” Yamato affirmed. He glanced downwards, at the arm still gripping his waist tightly. “If you would…”
Hibiki gave an uncomprehending stare, but ‘oh’d quickly and let go, shuffling away until he was in danger of toppling off the edge of the bed. Yamato let him have his space, straightening up and leaning back against the headboard of the bed. The silence was tense, but Yamato could hear Hibiki’s breathing slow and calm, even if it was interrupted by a bout shakes that would come over him sporadically.
These moments were rare, but they left Yamato uncomfortable every time. He was sure that someone more social savvy would know what to do in this kind of situation, know what calming or comforting words to say – Yamato knew nothing. Oh, he knew what was ailing Hibiki, nightmares mostly, but Yamato hated saying trite things like ‘it’ll be okay’, or ‘it’ll get better’, because he knew otherwise. Nightmares pursued you relentlessly until death. The only thing that got better was learning how to cope with them, and everyone had their own unique way of doing that.
“Sorry,” Hibiki’s voice was hoarse, and he licked his lips nervously before cracking a grin. “You were working late again, weren’t you? I thought you said you were going to stop that?”
“…well, someone distracted me from my work earlier,” Yamato said after a pause, his words carefully measured. “I wasn’t tired, and I didn’t exactly want to waste hours staring at your face.”
“The only one who isn’t happy whiling the hours away staring at my perfect face, and it’s my partner, great…” Hibiki said wryly. His heart wasn’t in it though, and he raked his fingers through his hair with a grimace. “Ugh, I’m gross. I’m… gonna shower, okay?”
Hibiki didn’t wait for a response. He slipped out of bed as silently as a ghost, and Yamato tracked his path through the room until he vanished out of the door. He heard the soft pats of bare feet hitting wooden floor, and then the orange glow of the bathroom light being turned on just down the hallway. The pipes gurgled quickly after that, and Yamato sat and stared at the door blankly.
The laptop called to him to finish his work, but he found himself suddenly lacking motivation. Instead he slipped his glasses off, setting them on the bedside table, and slid down until he was lying in bed again. His back was to the door leading to the hallway, and he listened to the gurgles of the pipes. Hibiki always sang in the shower, even if it was at four in the morning. It was silent now.
Fifteen minutes later, the shower stopped, and five minutes after that, Hibiki was walking back into the bedroom looking much better than before. There was a flush of colour to his cheeks – or so that Yamato could see from the dim light the window was giving him. Hibiki caught his gaze when he slid back into bed, smiling at him as he settled down next to him. His skin was bare, and carried the faintest scent of vanilla.
“I was only joking, y’know,” Hibiki said slyly, his expression amused. Yamato studied him closely, but the expression seemed perfectly genuine, and lacking any of the earlier sickliness or stress, “You can work if you want.”
“…I know,” Yamato said finally, deciding that Hibiki had pulled himself together in the shower. He felt unsettled though, although he couldn’t quite place why. He said nothing of this to Hibiki though, and just closed his eyes.
He felt a hand on his thigh, sliding up over the fabric of his pyjama bottoms, until it settled on his hip. He felt warm breath on his lips, and he didn’t have to open his eyes to tilt his head obediently into the kiss. It was chaste but slow – well, chaste for all of two minutes.
It was when Yamato was breathing heavy and fast, with Hibiki’s hands halfway done with his nightshirt’s buttons, that he said; “You’re having them more often.”
Hibiki didn’t pause. He just hummed in acknowledgement, his fingers deftly continuing down until the shirt was completely undone. Fingers, a little cold, brushed over his ribs, and Yamato squirmed, nearly kneeing Hibiki in the process. His partner just laughed quietly at the near miss, claiming his mouth again until his lips felt numb and his chest burned from a lack of oxygen.
The kiss eased off slowly, Hibiki’s fingers tracing over the scar on his stomach. It was thick, although it had turned a pale white since the past year, stretched taut over his abdominals, and Hibiki traced every centimetre of it, his lips occasionally kissing the corner of Yamato’s mouth.
Yamato stayed still, just obediently tilting his head whenever Hibiki leaned in with the intention to kiss. It didn’t seem sex was on Hibiki’s mind, and with how his fingers were touching the scars from yesteryear – Yamato knew exactly what Hibiki’s nightmare had been about. The press of the fingers seemed to be just making sure he was still in one piece and there – until they pressed too hard and Yamato grunted in discomfort.
Hibiki stopped immediately, his hand smoothing over Yamato’s curvy hip and settling there. “Sorry,” he said.
“It’s fine,” Yamato replied, and hesitated briefly, before ploughing on with his usual tact – or lack thereof. “Has there been some sort of trigger as of late?”
“Yeah. That newbie got gutted on a mission last week,” Hibiki’s voice was very calm and composed. Yamato frowned.
“I see,” he said. Again, that uncomfortable feeling came over him, keenly aware of his lack of experience in this area. Almost two years, and he still floundered awkwardly in areas that required empathy, so Yamato stared at him instead.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hibiki said. He sounded exasperated. He pushed forwards, and with a grunt Yamato was on his back, Hibiki on top of him, his partner’s face buried into his bare chest. “If you try being all nice and understanding I think I’ll die cracking a rib laughing, or be severely creeped out.”
“It’s a good thing I wasn’t even going to bother then,” Yamato said truthfully. “I doubt you want to hear useless platitudes anyway.”
“Damn straight,” Hibiki’s tone lilted mischievously, “All I need is this yummy tummy of yours~”
“Did you ju- Hibiki!” Yamato almost yelped when Hibiki suddenly blew a raspberry on his stomach, his hand dropping down onto his partner’s head and pushing at it. “Hibiki!” he growled again, shoving at him viciously when Hibiki blew yet another raspberry.
After a bit of a struggle, Hibiki was banished from Yamato’s ‘yummy tummy’ and sent to the farthest side of the bed. Despite his exile, Hibiki looked quite happy with himself, curled up on his side and grinning like a Cheshire cat at Yamato. It was almost as if nothing had happened earlier.
“Well, goodnight,” Hibiki purred, his eyes sliding closed and his head burying into his pillow. “Thanks, by the way.”
Yamato was puzzled why Hibiki was thanking him, especially as he spent the past minute yanking at his hair, but kept his mouth shut. He grunted instead, following Hibiki’s lead and closing his eyes as well. Despite his irritation, he felt… content that he did something right…
Somehow.