Work Text:
Qifrey jolts awake in the middle of the night. For a moment, he's confused where he is but as he glances around and takes in what he can in the dark it's clear; his apprentice room. It's quite, late, and he can't hear a thing for a moment but the pounding of his heart in his ears.
He can't remember the nightmare, not really, but the unease that creeps up his spine is enough to get him up and moving; though he isn't sure where he's moving toward until he stops short in front of Olruggio's door.
Qifrey thinks, briefly, that he shouldn't go in. That it would be a mistake to seek out comfort from his dearest and only friend. But upon reflection he can't really imagine why. So he carefully pushes the door open and steps inside, trying to avoid flooding the room with light from the hall.
Olruggio is in his bed, still asleep and curled contently in his pillows and blankets. He looks just as soft and warm as they do and Qifrey's still nervous heart settles a little just from that alone. When he steps over to the bed and whispers his name, Olruggio stirs and blinks up at him sleepily and his heart settles just that bit more.
"Mmn, what is it?"
"I had a bad dream," Qifrey whispers, wringing his hands nervously. "Can I sleep in here with you?"
This seems to wake Olruggio more. He blinks, rubs his eyes, and Qifrey watches his cheekbones and ear tips dust with pink in the low light. It makes him nervous again, unsure, until Olruggio clears his throat and says, very softly, "Yeah, if you want."
Qifrey crawls into the bed immediately, burrowing into the nest Olruggio has settled into, and feels a nervous, tentative hand settle on his back. Pressing closer, he nuzzles his face into Olruggio's night shirt and the hand is replaced by an arm wrapping around him, pulling him into an embrace.
Olruggio's heart pounds in his chest, pressed to Qifrey's cheek, but he's steady and welcoming. Warmth floods Qifrey's body, cradled in a safety he can't recall ever having before now.
"Your hair's soft," Olruggio whispers, like it's a secret he's telling.
Qifrey muffles a little laugh into his shirt. "Thanks?"
Like that's permission, Qifrey feels him nuzzle his face down into his hair. He fights to keep more laughter quiet, not wanting anyone to come looking and find them. They're doing nothing wrong, of course, but it would disrupt the moment.
"It is like fresh snow," Olruggio mumbles into his hair. "Before it starts melting."
"I don't… remember what snow is like," Qifrey admits.
"It's wet and cold," Olruggio informs him, stopped briefly by a yawn before adding, "you wouldn't like it much. But it's pretty…"
They settle into comfortable silence, Qifrey focusing on the thump of Olruggio's heart and steadily slowing breathing. He doesn't want to sleep yet, wants to linger in the warm comfort that's washed over his entire body being here, but eventually it slowly takes him…
Qifrey wakes in his room in the atelier, silence in the space somehow so loud it startles him. He is alone and a bit cold, thin blanket not able to manage the chill in the air. After a moment of consideration, he sighs and gets out of bed.
He isn't entirely certain where he's headed until he finds himself at Olruggio's door. The ache of the seed is present at the mere thought of what he had in that dream; what he wants now, the soothing comfort of closeness. The only safety he's ever known.
He reaches out his hand and presses it to the door. The seed throbs in his eye socket and he frowns. He should go back to sleep, he should—
The door opens, a sleep deprived Olruggio greeting him on the other side, and Qifrey jolts so hard he almost jumps back a few feet.
"Oh," Olruggio mumbles, yawning. "What do you need, Qifrey?"
He should go back to bed. He should leave this now, not risk getting too close to comfort, he should…
"I had a bad dream," comes out in a little whisper.
Olruggio's expression goes soft. It makes Qifrey's chest ache. He forces himself to lower his hand.
"Need to talk about it?"
"No," Qifrey says, "not… I need to talk, just not about it."
An easy enough request. Olruggio doesn't seem concerned with the idea at all. He smiles and reaches out to squeeze Qifrey's shoulder gently before using it to guide him down the hall toward the kitchen.
"We can make some tea," he offers, "I needed to take a break anyhow."
"You're pulling another all nighter?" Qifrey asks.
"Not all night," Olruggio deflects.
Qifrey starts asking him about his project just to get him talking, just to keep hearing his voice. He's interested in the project itself, of course, but he's more interested in the sound of his voice and the small comfort he finds in it. The barely-there soothing but safe option.
He can't ask Olruggio to hold him, just like he couldn't when they were small. Even a hug is a risk Qifrey rarely even considers taking. The dreams, in a way, are the only safe place he can have these moments.
"You still listening, snow head?" Olruggio asks him at one point, holding his tea cup out to him.
Qifrey laughs faintly and rubs at his hair before accepting the cup. "Of course," he says.
His mind wanders to the dream briefly; little dream Olruggio telling him snow is pretty. Perhaps he can accept the compliment from his subconscious…
"You sure you don't want to talk about that dream?"
"It was nothing," Qifrey replies smoothly. "Just an old sadness."
Kind as ever, Olruggio reaches over and pats gently at his arm. Qifrey feels the seed ache and fights the urge to pull away when the hand lingers there. It's worth the pain, it's worth the brief moment of lightness in his chest.
"Just a dream," Olruggio assures him. "No sense dwelling on it. Best to focus on the now."
Qifrey feels his expression briefly quaiver before he catches himself. "Yes," he whispers, "you're right."