OH MY GOD YOU DREW THE ASSASSIN BURRITO WRAP (DELUXE EDITION) AND I'M ASCENDING
THE CUDDLING. THE GROUP PILE. YOU EVEN ADDED THE HAPPY TRAIL. THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED AND MORE. I am grabbing this image with both hands like itâs a memory Iâm scared to lose.
Frame it. Hang it in the Louvre. Tattoo it behind my eyelids. (ââżââż)
Lmao Shaun falling off the couch. I couldn't help myself so I wrote a scene based on this masterpieceâyes, including the moment where the couch betrays them all and they collapse in a pile of limbs hehe.
This is now canon in my heart:
It happened in an instant.
One moment, they were three bodies tangled peacefully on the couchâShaun lying flat with one arm looped under Desmond's neck, the other snug around his waist like a seatbelt no one asked for. Desmond was blissfully unconscious and warm and pliant as a freshly baked cinnamon roll. Rebecca was half-draped across both of them like a victorious koala guarding her prized eucalyptusâexcept this one had a happy trail and once catastrophic world-saving trauma.
Shaun didn't even mean to move. He just breathed Desmond in a little too deepâheaven, linen, heatâand tried to shift his leg before it went numb. It was a simple actâbarely a motionâbut equilibrium was a delicate thing when you were bubble wrapped around a sleep-heavy man with all the structure of boiled linguine.
And so, when the panic flaredâ
âhis arms locked instinctively. A good man might've let go. Shaun clung harder.
Which was, of course, the problem because logic did not factor in that he was wrapped around Desmond like a possessive octopusâand Desmond, still out cold from a morally dubious cocktail of melatonin, powdered valerian root and magnesium supplementsâhad all the structural integrity of pudding.
So when Shaun went down, Desmond went with him, slumping sideways like a tree felled in slow-motion.
And unfortunately for everyone involved, Rebecca was clinging to that tree like a determined marsupial with separation anxiety andâ
In a graceless, flailing pile of limbs.
Shaun hit the floor first, flat on his back with a wheeze. Desmond landed on top of him like a bag of warm laundry. Rebecca followed a split second later, somehow managing to keep her death grip on Desmond and crashed face-first into Shaunâs thigh, narrowly missing the coffee table by divine intervention alone.
There was a muffled thump.
And finally a dramatic, slow-motion bang as Shaun's heel clipped the edge of the coffee table and launched the empty paper coffee cup that had been sitting innocently on the table spinning into the air like a Final Destination casualty. It bounced once. Then shot under Shaun's workstation like it had a vendetta.
The blanket flopped dramatically over all of them like a flag of defeat.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Desmondâblissed out, still asleepâsighed. His nose scrunched gently against Shaun's sternum, and he let out a soft, drugged snore that sounded offensively content.
Rebecca started laughingâquiet, breathless, delightedâand pressed into Desmond's shoulder like she could burrow through him if she tried hard enough.
Shaun, meanwhile, stared up at the ceiling with the weary acceptance of a man pinned by his own terrible, perfect choicesâand exactly zero desire to change them.
"Brilliant." He rasped from the floor, arms still stubbornly curled around Desmond's waist. "Truly. This is how I die."
Rebecca smiled against Desmond-s collarbone.
"Shut up. You know you love it~" She crooned and sighed the kind of sigh that meant she was going to get comfy right there on the floor and never leave.
Shaun didn't dignify that with a response, but his arms stayed locked. He traced a slow line along Desmond's spine like he was memorizing every curve like it were scripture.
(Because yes, he did, in fact love it.
But there was no way in hell he was going to admit that now.)
Thank you once again for yet another BLESSED IMAGE.
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