Work Text:
It wasn’t that they bumped into each other during all of their nights of insomnia, but recently, she had to admit that their encounters were becoming more and more frequent as time passed.
It started when she found him in the kitchen. She had been working on her computer as usual and had gotten thirsty enough to leave her data for a few minutes to go get something to drink. It was late on the sleeping schedule they have settled and she wasn’t expecting someone to be awake besides herself.
But there he was, the leader of the paladins, leaning on a cupboard, crossing his arms and looking at the emptiness.
“Shiro?” she whispered, and in the quiet of the room, her voice rang against the walls.
He did a small startle and looked at her as he’d been caught.
“Pidge,” he mumbled back.
They looked at each other for a few moments and then it came the silence filled with comprehension. There was no need to ask why they were awake.
It was that time too when she realized she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep because of worries or traumas. The difference, she acknowledged, was that she only had very nasty nightmares fueled by worries and fears. His, were pure night terrors creeping from his time imprisoned.
It was the first night they kept each other company until it was time to wake up. They didn’t ask about the nightmares, nor the preoccupations. They just mumbled small talks, finding solace in each other presence.
It didn’t take long for it to become a habit. Every time she found herself lonely, homesick or especially worried or scared of never seeing her family again, she would go to the kitchen to see if he was there. More often than not, he was.
She realized that sometimes he went even when he wasn’t feeling haunted with his inner demons, clearly looking out for her, in case she needed him, so she made an effort to go check the kitchen too almost every night to reciprocate.
When both of them started to show signs of unhealthy, unnecessary tiredness, she was about done. She hacked the touch-sensitive castle door lock of her room and allowed Shiro’s hand to open it. She thought about hacking his door with her handprint too but decided against it.
“I hacked my door lock,” she informed instead, later that night. “You’ll be able to enter if you need to.”
She wasn’t looking at him when she told him and she refused to acknowledge the irrational heat on her cheeks. His gaze was fixed ahead as well when he asked in return,
“And my door?”
Pidge fisted her hands on her shirt in a reflex.
“No, I didn’t want to intrude…” she began, but before she could start to ramble, he blurted,
“It’s alright,” he said. “You’re not intruding.”
She nodded, and if she had looked up to see his face, she would have noted that their cheeks matched.
It was two nights after their exchange and her second hack when she opened Shiro’s lock with her hand to get in his room. He was asleep and she didn’t want to wake him up but she had had a nightmare where she finally found her father and Matt, just to discover she was barely minutes too late to save them, and they were murdered.
She didn’t want to go back to the emptiness of her own room, so she slipped beside him as softly as she could. But of course, he opened his eyes. He was the lightest sleeper she had ever met.
“Pidge?” he asked with a hoarse voice, heavy with sleep. When his eyes recognized her figure in the dim lights ever present in the room, he let his head fall again against the pillow with a sigh.
“S-sorry,” she stuttered. “It’s just…” she trailed off, “a nightmare.”
“Don’t be. It’s okay,” he reassured her. He opened up the covers and that was all the invitation she needed. She crawled to his side and buried her face in his chest. She felt his hand lay on top of her head and relaxed a little.
“You want to talk about it?”
“It was the same old nightmare. I couldn’t save them and when I woke up I didn’t want to be alone,” she admitted quietly, “in case it came back.”
“Okay,” she heard him say. “I’m here. Get some sleep.”
And she did.
A few nights later it was her door that opened. She was working on some codes for her lion when he appeared with weary, almost too wide eyes and she hurried to close her laptop.
“Shiro” she greeted him. He stepped inside and the door slid close.
“Katie, I…” he digressed. He only called her by her real name when either of them was especially vulnerable.
She moved to sit on the bed and opened her arms.
“I know,” she said, and then he was there. And he stayed there until morning came.
They laid on their sides, sharing their weaknesses and becoming their mutual strength.
Even fewer than last time nights later, Pidge was half laying, half sitting on Shiro’s bed, with his head on her stomach and his torso between her knees. She was combing her fingers through his hair and he was sound asleep. His expression was relaxed and his breathing even. She felt a little pride when she realized he slept better when she was around.
Truth be told, it wasn’t even that late, barely even midnight, but for some reason, she went to his room as soon as the lights were off, surrendering even her hours on her tech.
If she was honest with herself, she did know the reason. It was the giddy whirl she got on her stomach every time they spent time alone together. It wasn’t wise to encourage those feelings, but she found herself unable to help it, even less when the arms around her middle squeezed her ever so slightly and from his lips sprouted a quiet mumble that sounded like her given name.
Before she could fall asleep, she couldn’t help thinking that despite being the smartest paladin of all, she was being quite stupid.
And just like that, they were spending almost every night together, and the more nights they shared, the more the nightmares stayed away, and as their bond grew stronger, even she had to admit that it wasn’t completely illogical for her to harbor hope. After all, he sought for her embrace too.
It was in her very room, as he held her close after going to bed and she was barely conscious when she felt him drop a kiss to her left eyelid, probably thinking she was already asleep and whispering a gentle “Goodnight, Katie. I love you.”
And with that promise, she didn’t know if she was awake or asleep anymore. That was what she told herself to justify the even quitter “Me too” she whispered back.