Work Text:
It is still relatively early, but Nick has been awake for a while now.
He is comfortable, relatively speaking, he just isn't going anywhere because there's a warm weight bearing his left side into the mattress, there's a firm, lean-muscled thigh pinning both of his to the afore-mentioned mattress.
Nick might have just created a monster.
The corresponding ankle is between his ankles, effectively keeping his legs just where they are.
Even if he could move his legs, his body is staying put. There's a pair of arms, like steel bands, wrapped around his torso, they're effectively pinning his left arm against his body, and even though he's lying on one of the arms, they show no signs of tiring or weakening.
It's the nose though, that's the clincher. It's buried in the junction between Nick's neck and his shoulder. It shows no sign of moving.
Nick has created a monster.
It is, he supposes, what you get if you introduce a zauberbiest, hitherto deprived of the normal social interaction known as cuddling, to the concept. The zauberbiest in question embraces the notion of cuddling with enthusiasm, as time goes on the cuddling becomes positively goofy.
Nick had thought there were no goofy zauberbiester. It appears that he was incorrect in that surmise.
Annoyingly, embarrassingly incorrect.
"Sean." he whispers.
The arms tighten, the nose buries itself a little further into the junction between shoulder and neck.
"Sean.."
There's a huffy noise.
"I need to pee."
The arms squeeze again for a second or two, then grudgingly begin to loosen.
"Morning, Captain Octopus." Nick sits up. His zauberbiest, eyes closed, is burrowed into the comforter. "Back in a minute." He wriggles his way off the mattress and pads to the bathroom. Takes care of business, and pads back again. His octopus is playing dead.
Nick lifts the comforter and slides back in.
He's grasped and pulled close, nose in his shoulder, steel bands around his chest, trapping both his arms to his sides, as a strong thigh slides over his. The zauberbiest settles as Nick awkwardly pats the only thing he can reach, the back of a wrist.
There's a contented huff as the octopus goes back to sleep, and Nick ponders the goofiness of his biest.