Chapter Text
Derek Hutchins likes to think of himself as a very logical person.
Usually.
And, quite frankly,
there is nothing remotely logical about calling your neighbor in the middle of the night simply because you had a bad dream.
It doesn't matter that said neighbor is the only friend you have around, it doesn't matter that said neighbor is the only other person in the entire world who'd feasibly understand, and it doesn't matter that said neighbor is the only person in the entire world that could possibly make you feel saf—
No.
Does. Not. Matter.
…
So why does Derek call him?
Avery himself has told him (often) that it's okay to call him at any point, no matter the day, time, or place—but that's obviously another one of those things Avery can just say and mean because he's… Avery.
In reality, it's not practical, and it's not logical, and, most importantly, it's not beneficial to Avery's own health.
…
But, he'd let himself fall victim to it.
Avery's own words repeating, spiraling themselves deep into his mind:
I don't care if I'm in the middle of having the BEST damn dream of my LIFE. You're more important.
It shouldn't have been that that had convinced him, but it was; and Derek had hung up on the first ring once he realized he was letting himself be an idiot for a moment too long, and currently, he prays it hadn't been enough to even stir his neighbor.
…Avery calls him back within the minute.
And Derek could ignore it. He could ignore Avery, and force himself to sleep again alone, and he could make Avery promise to never speak of this incident again.
…
And, Avery would hate him for it.
Derek sighs.
He's made his bed.
He should lie in it.
Against his better judgment—and impending doom, surely—Derek answers on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Hi!!" comes Avery's voice chirping back. He sounds a bit out of breath, like he's trying to accomplish an impossible task as he speaks over the phone. "I'm, uh, I'm on my way! Don't worry! I'm just— Uh, y'know— And I still have to get my shoes on—"
What. "What?"
"You want me to come over, right?"
Derek, for lack of a better word, splutters. "I didn't— I— Where did you get—?"
"Oh," Avery says, and there's a pause. "Well, I guess you didn't say that specifically but—"
"I didn't say anything???" Derek interrupts, completely dumbfounded as to how the other man could have possibly reached the conclusions he had based on a five second unanswered and then self-hung-up phone call. "We didn't even talk to each other, I just—"
"You called me."
"Did I?" Derek shoots back, letting his confused frustration leak into his tone. (Even if Avery is the last person to deserve it.)
"Yeah, ya did," Avery scoffs, thankfully. Derek can hear him rolling his eyes through the receiver. "Why would you call me if you didn't mean anything by it?"
"…I'm… Confused by that logic."
"You called me," Avery says again. "YOU. Called ME."
"It could have been an accident."
"You don't do anything by accident." The sound of a door opening, then getting shut behind him. "Anyways, I'm coming. If you don't want me, fine, but—"
Derek bristles at that. "It's not that I don't—"
"So you do want me?" comes the smug reply, and Derek wants to hang up on him for real this time.
"Why do you have to say it like that."
"Say it like what?"
"That."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I was asking a question?"
"Avery."
"Anyways," Derek wants to play Minecraft solely so he can punch the man off another platform, "I'm here. Want me to knock, or…?"
Unfortunately, Avery is right. Derek can hear his voice carrying from even his bedroom. "No. If you haven't woken up the whole complex yet, you will if you do."
"I'm just trying to be polite!"
"Don't be."
"Okay but can you at LEAST let me in first?"
Derek debates.
On a larger scale just in general: he really doesn't want to.
On a deeper, more personal level than that: he really, really doesn't want to.
…
On the deepest level…
"…Der?"
"I'm thinking."
"Okay, but can you do it after you let me in firs—"
He hangs up, tossing his phone on his bed, and opens his bedroom door. Faintly, he hears Avery saying something from the hallway outside. He goes to open that door, presumably just sparing the other tenants from the eldritch entity that is Avery Logan.
Avery brightens instantaneously—the usual response to noticing Derek within his general vicinity. "Hey! Hi! What's—"
His smile just as quickly dims, until it's gone entirely.
…
Why is looking at him like…?
"Avery?" he questions, eyes straining slightly against the overbearing yellow light coming from the hall. (Gods, why did they have to make it so bright?)
Without saying anything, Avery quickly sidesteps him and shuts the door behind him. He then quickly gets out his phone, instinctively turning on its flashlight. "U-uh, can we— Turn a light on in here—?"
Also without saying anything, Derek goes to the nearest light source and switches it on.
Avery haphazardly shoves his phone back into his pocket once he can see Derek clearly again. The look on his face hasn't seemed to change an inch.
It's still just as gentle as before.
"Are you okay?" Avery asks softly.
His hands twitch, and Derek immediately recognizes it for what it is.
Despite his own misgivings, despite not liking the fact Avery is here at all…
…
How can he possibly deny him?
Derek steps towards him, and the moment Avery's hands find his face, he tries not to flinch away out of usual shock.
Avery will do this, sometimes.
Not this exactly, of course. But request to be able to touch Derek in some manner. Usually his face. Usually, so he can hold his face, and stare a bit too long into his eyes and at his features before eventually forcing himself to let go.
Avery has said it's his way of making sure Derek's "real."
While clearly not a lie, it always feels like there's so much more to it than that.
And, by now, he's fully memorized Avery's emerald eyes, and the golden flecks hidden in them.
Derek forces himself to continue breathing, even when Avery's hands slide further up his cheeks, fingers brushing away something he hadn't even realized was there.
He blinks.
Oh.
"Why're you crying," Avery murmurs, not a question at all. It's phrased like one, but, what he really means is, Tell me what's wrong so I can make it better.
But, there's nothing wrong.
Not really.
Derek sighs, taking Avery's hands in his own and moving them off his face. (He doesn't miss the near heartbroken look on the other's face as a result; he simply chooses not to think about it. (Not too hard.)) "Avery," he says, slowly, the use of his friend's name something like an appeal.
"Derek," Avery utters, quickly, and on Avery's tongue, Derek's name is so much more an appeal; a plea. "What happened? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he answers, honestly.
"Don't—"
"I'm not lying. Nothing happened. I dreamed."
Avery frowns deeper. "You dreamed."
"Yes."
"…You had a nightmare?"
"I…" Should he call it that? That feels awfully dramatic of him. "I don't know."
Avery tries to recapture Derek's hands. Derek lets him. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"It was a dream."
"Derek."
He doesn't want to be difficult any further, so he turns away, heading back to his room. "I'm going back to sleep," he informs Avery. "You can stay or leave. Wherever you'd rather be."
Of course, Wherever I'd rather be is of no question to Avery, so Avery follows at his heel.
"Fine. Then let me sleep with you."
"Avery—"
"I know how that sounds shut up," Avery snaps, but Derek is only fixing him with an imploring look.
"I told you, I'm fine," he stresses, "you don't have to force yourself to—"
"Woah woah, hey," Avery cuts him off. "First of all, no the Hell you didn't. Second—"
"Didn't what?"
"You never said whether you were fine or not."
Damn it. "I told you nothing was wrong."
"That's not the same thing."
Derek rolled his eyes.
"Okay. I'm fine," he says flatly. "Does that give you a proper answer?"
"No," Avery scoffs.
"Why not?"
"'Cause you're being a jackass."
"I'm not—"
"You are, though! I'm trying to help you and you're just—"
"Because there's nothing to help!" Derek argues.
"You've been crying! You—" Avery gestures at him, helplessly. "How is that being— Dude, how can you be fine?! After—"
"I have to be!"
"Why?!"
"Because!" he chokes out, just as helpless, gesturing just as much back at him. "Because you— Because you!"
. . .
Derek's vision is blurry.
But even then, he can see something like hurt flash across Avery's face.
"W-w— What the Hell does that mean?" he asks, and it's small, and he tries to look angry when he says it, but his voice breaks.
Damn it.
Fucking.
Damn it.
Derek is shaking.
Stiffly, he walks over to his bed. Stiffly, he turns on the bedside lamp. Stiffly, he sits himself down in the light of the lamp.
The light is a cold white. Harsh.
Nothing about it is warm.
(It shouldn't be.)
"I can't," he mutters, vaguely, but with finality.
Slowly, stiffly, Avery walks over.
"Can't what?" Still small.
"I can't— I can't…" He shuts his eyes. A reminder all the more. "…Do that to you." He clenches his fists. "Do this." Bringing them to his head, just short of threatening to beat his own brain in. "I can't—"
"Hey hey, hey," Avery's voice, again, and Avery's hands, taking his own. "We're okay. I'm okay. Look at me."
Derek shakes his head. "I can't—"
"Look at me, Der. I'm okay."
He does look at Avery.
Of course he does.
(How can he not?)
Avery smiles down at him.
"I'm okay," he repeats, soft. His thumbs brush over Derek's knuckles, somehow absentminded, somehow perfectly deliberate. Derek's gold eyes follow the movement dazedly, only flicking back to Avery's face when Avery continues to speak to him. "Nothing bad's gonna happen to me."
Derek's breath hitches. "You— You don't know that. You could—"
"I could," Avery agrees, humming. "But I'm not going to. I have you to protect me, remember?"
"What about when I can't?"
"I'unno," Avery says too easily, at first. Derek's hands shake harder so he quickly amends, "Well then I'll protect us for both of us. Which, y'know— I'd be the best at," he grins, "especially if they're gonna try to get us through Minecraft again. I'd like to see how many cosmic entities wanna TRY besting me at PvP."
Derek chokes on a laugh. It makes Avery beam brighter, for a moment.
Of course, he has to ruin it by letting that laugh break into a sob.
Avery makes a tiny noise of distress, before thoughtlessly dropping to his knees, reaching to bring Derek quickly into his arms.
Yet again, Derek's breathing hitches.
Now, the logical thing, to alleviate this awkward positioning they've both put themselves in, is to have Avery come up onto the bed and hug him from there.
You would think, anyway.
Instead, Derek takes Avery's arms, moving them off him. Avery makes another noise of distress (though verging more on displeasure, now); until Derek slides himself down off the bed, right into Avery's lap, burying his face into the other's neck.
Avery adjusts only to pull Derek fully into his lap. Rearranging his legs into a better position is all but an afterthought.
"I d— I don't want to hurt you," Derek sobs brokenly into him, breaths coming fast and panicked, somehow even more so as he feels Avery's fingers start to run themselves through his hair. "I-I…"
"You won't," Avery promises, easy. As if he's the one who once had infinite knowledge. "You'd never hurt me."
"Y-you don't— Y-you can't k-know if I'll—"
"Okay, well. If you need to hurt me to feel better, then, I'm okay with that."
A whimper escapes Derek at that. "B-but—"
Avery's grip on him tightens, ever so much. "It'd hurt me a lot more just knowing you were hurting," he murmurs, practically against Derek's ear, "and there was something I could've done about it."
Derek shakes his head against Avery's shoulder.
Avery simply hums, cards his hand through Derek's hair. Gently, as though he cards it through a river of gold. "Also, let's be real—you'd have to do a lot to, like. Actually hurt me, dude."
Again, a shake of his head. But…
Derek's tired.
He'd tired, and he hates himself and he hates that the thing that got him into this mess was a dream.
…
Not a nightmare.
A nightmare feels awfully dramatic.
"…Can you tell me about it?"
Huh?
"Your nightmare."
That's awfully dramatic.
…But…
*
There really isn't that much to it.
Really, truly not.
It's just a rehashing of what happened to him.
Looking into the gates.
But it's too realistic to be Minecraft. His own legs are running back out of the cave. Not d3rlord's.
Somehow, he already knows Avery—but this time in the sense that he knows him. He's known him for a while. So it feels.
He searches for him. He wants Avery, and he's running to him.
He reaches him.
Derek doesn't have to face it alone.
Avery catches him with open arms, drawing him near, and everything's okay, and nothing can hurt or scare him anymore, and he's safe. The King can't touch him here.
He's safe and the King's gone and Avery had never left and Avery has always stayed and Derek has never pushed him away, because he doesn't have to this time, and Avery is here, and Avery is safe, because Derek is here, and Derek is safe, because Avery is here.
Avery will always be here to keep him safe.
*
"See?" Derek mutters into Avery's shoulder, when it's over. His voice is slightly muffled by the fabric of Avery's nightshirt. "Wasn't a nightmare."
It'd only become one upon waking, and realizing he was alone again.
"Sorry," he says, too, because he isn't the one in need of protecting, and he's being dramatic, and he's being pathetic, and he's being anything but brave and noble and selfless.
He's not the one to falter.
Knights don't falter in the absence of their damsel.
A Lord does not crumble at the feet of their adorer.
A savior of the world does not need someone to save them.
Avery's hand has halted halfway through his hair. The other's breathing has gone slow, quiet, and Derek thinks he's broken him, somehow.
That's… Not ideal.
But he's tired, and his chest still hurts, and he's not sure why Avery's silence hurts so much but it does and he's going to cry again, damn it. "A— Avery, I-I—"
Suddenly, his face is being pulled away, and he's being looked at. He isn't particularly expecting it and his face goes even redder past the already-gross emotions he's let himself spill.
But, his heart nearly stops when he notices the tear-tracks flowing down Avery's face.
No! He hadn't meant to—!
"I love you."
…
. . .
Derek stares, realizing the words hadn't come from his own mouth.
He's suddenly all too aware of the look Avery is giving him.
Soft. Gentle. Doting.
As if it's not enough to make it clear,
"I love you," Avery says again, and he sounds more choked up, this time. "I-I love you— I've been, I've wanted to say that s-since I met you— I-in reality, I mean— But I…"
Derek can't breathe again.
He doesn't remember how to remind himself to.
"I love you so much I could—" Avery falters, eyes briefly squeezing shut, and he has to inhale. "I love you so much, and it hurts, and I just— I don't know what to do with it, a-and, I, I don't know what I'd do with myself if—"
"Avery," Derek interjects, hushed, a whisper.
"N-no, I need to— Y-you need to know how much I—" Another quick breath. "I can't, I-I can't stand it, just— Not being able to help you, o-or— When you— You just, you keep pushing me away and I can't…"
Slowly, delicately, Derek raises his own hands to Avery's face. Avery hiccups, nuzzling into one of his palms.
"I want you to… Be safe. A-and, to feel safe with me."
"I do," Derek breathes. "I always do. That's why I— I'm—"
He swallows,
"I'm… I don't know if I can let myself feel safe."
"It's okay," Avery whispers, his breath fanning softly against Derek's skin. Said with the ease of someone who's faced the end of the world, and has still lived in spite of it. "We'll be okay. I promise."
…
Derek doesn't think he can convince him otherwise.
He lets his hands be taken into Avery's, until his friend is delivering gentle kisses to the palms, and then to the fingers themselves, and all over, like he's something worthy of it.
And he lets Avery find his face again, kissing his eyelids, the too-dark circles under his eyes, the too-pale skin of his cheeks, his chin, his jawline, his forehead, his nose, and everywhere in between. Every single inch of skin Avery can possibly find, and is too stubborn to leave without thoroughly exploring.
Derek doesn't quite stop crying for the duration of it. He can't, because Avery won't let up, because Avery seemingly also can't, neglecting kissing Derek's face only so he then kiss his hand every so often, much in the same way, kind and passionate and loyal and devoted.
Deja vu hits him full-force, and he's once again thoroughly bewildered how in the universe his new friend—he's only known him for a month (if you don't count the brief period he knew Avery even more than he knew himself)—is so wholly, freely ready to follow him to literal Hell and back.
Friend.
Friends.
Are they?
His mind says yes, but his heart insists otherwise, because Avery wouldn't. He'd meant his confession as a friend, because Avery wouldn't, and that's all they are, because Avery wouldn't.
…Heh. He nearly laughs, because he thinks, of course he thinks about it. If he were still aware of Avery, in the all-consuming sense, he could have answered his own questions.
Where's infinite knowledge when you need it?
Granted, he's just as unsure as he has always been about the nature of Avery's relationship to him. He was unsure about it after… Everything. Even when Avery had shown up at his doorstep, and found him (in very simple terms), and stayed by his bedside when doctors tried to find out what was wrong with him, and continued seeing him and baking him cookies and and cinnamon rolls and cakes and other things that give him an excuse to visit Derek at any point.
Derek wasn't sure, then, because if he really thinks about it too hard—or at all, really—Avery seems more a person thrust into his life out of pure circumstance and chance, rather than actual wanting to be here.
And— To be perfectly honest, it doesn't help that he knows there must still a part of Avery that is sticking around out of obligation to him; he saved Avery's life, of course he'd feel indebted to that. Of course Avery would regard him so highly and think the world of him, simply because Derek had saved the world.
Anyone in their right mind would have done it, after all.
And anyone in their right mind would have saved Avery, too. They'd have seen Avery, and known him. Know him for what he is, and who he chooses to be, and see that he is lovely.
A person like that didn't deserve suffering at the hands of a horrible, cruel monster. A person like that deserves to live, to be able to see the sun again and to worry only about staring at it, and he deserves to feel the warm breeze on his shoulders. He deserves to laugh and to be free, and to be friends with whoever he wants, because he wants them. Not because he's needed, or because he's a shelter for creatures that have no homes.
He can be; but he doesn't need to be.
And he doesn't need to be kissing Derek right now, or holding him right now.
Derek finally, finally shies away from Avery's grasp, murmuring, "You should head home."
Of course, Avery stares at him like he's lost his mind. (…Well.) "You better be saying that 'cause you wanna crash at my apartment instead."
"No, I'm staying. You should—"
"Nope," Avery simply… Cuts him off? "Nuh-uh. We're not doing this again."
"Doing w—?"
"I don't know how to make this any clearer to you, so,"
Avery moves around, like he's going to get up—so naturally, Derek goes to move off of him to make it easier.
He underestimates Avery.
In a lot of ways it seems, but particularly just how fucking strong the guy is because Avery pulls him back in one fell swoop, before springing to his feet and he's now CARRYING Derek several feet off the floor.
Oh.
Right.
Yeah.
Derek forgot
Avery can
he can skate and surf
that's
well.
In the time it takes Derek's brain to reassess itself and remind itself it should function, Avery plops onto the bed behind them, maneuvering to lie down against the pillow and taking the other with him, taking full advantage of the fact Derek has practically blue-screened.
Blessedly, Avery takes pity on him, letting go of him and giving him time to reboot himself at his side—and when Derek comes back online, he sits up, eyelids fluttering at the speed of a hummingbird's wings at the rapid blinking he's doing.
(On his part, Avery doesn't tell Derek just how kissable he looks, especially from this angle.)
(But he seriously considers it.)
Even then, Derek stares down at Avery's face for far too long, and he knows his own face must look like a mess, and he's…
He's not sure why Avery is looking up at him like that.
Like he's the reason for knowledge—for the ability to have even a modicum of it. The reason anything in the universe exists, or doesn't, or can, but chooses not to.
"Uh," Derek manages. Very articulately, if you ask him.
In response, Avery begins to reach out.
The movement is hesitant. Careful, but he's not even really doing anything yet.
"Can I…?" Avery asks, vaguely trailing off—but it doesn't matter, because Derek just nods.
It's only a little terrifying, now knowing himself enough to know Avery could ask him to plummet off the golden gate bridge with no parachute, nothing to break his fall, or catch him midair.
And it's not even a question of if he would.
…
Maybe that's dangerous.
It is, he thinks.
But,
he's not sure he can care, when the gentle hand on his face promises him it will be the one to catch him, before he even make it to the bridge's edge.
He quickly realizes the Can I…? was really Avery just asking if he could simply touch him again, because the thing about Avery is, he will think he's crossed some sort of line just by existing in the same space as Derek.
"I'm not leaving," he repeats anyway, because taking up space in Derek's life is, ultimately, the lesser of two evils. (The other evil of course being Derek thinking he can live life alone.) "Or letting you leave. You're stuck with me. I'm forever in your bed now."
"What if I have to use the bathroom?" Derek asks, voice dry.
"Fine. Only then. And I'm going with you."
"You'll follow me into the bathroom?"
"Not what I said. I'll wait for you outside."
"You can't wait here like a normal person?"
"Not if you're planning on escape."
"I won't."
"Likely story."
Derek just sighs. "Why do you want to be here?"
"…Because I'm tired? And it's, like, four in the morning?"
"I don't mean on the bed."
…
It's the blonde's turn to sigh.
"I love you."
"You said that."
"And I mean it."
"Aver—"
"That's why I want to be here."
"Avery…"
"Can we go to bed now? I'm tired and I don't wanna sleep to the sound of you wearing my name out the entire night." He pauses. "Not tonight anyway."
That. Is not what Derek is doing.
"We can talk more tomorrow, though?" Avery offers.
…
It is late.
And Avery needs to sleep.
"…Okay."
Hesitantly, carefully, Derek lies down next to his friend.
. . .
Neighbor, maybe.
Just his neighbor, he thinks.
Avery scoots away to claim his side of the bed, briefly reaching to turn out the light before settling back down next to Derek (this time, moving to be under the blanket). He feels the blonde roll over onto his side in the darkness. He feels eyes on him, but relaxes knowing they're green ones.
"Night," comes an eventual whisper.
"Night," Derek whispers back, deciding to stay on his back. And on top of the covers.
…
Silence stretches for a while.
So, when he hears a voice in the dark once more, that sounds a lot like Avery's, he wonders if he's already dreaming.
"I'll keep you safe," it murmurs.