The hero woke to the smell of smoke. Swearing, they scrambled out of bed and down the hall to their guest bedroom.
The blankets were smoldering as the villain thrashed in their sleep. The room glowed an angry scarlet from power suppression cuffs struggling to bear the full load of the villain’s unconscious mind. And worst of all were the noises, that high pitched wail over and over again: “Don’t leave me no don’t don’t please no don’t don’t leave-”
“Wake up!” the hero yelled and flung the safety bucket of cold water across the villain’s face.
The villain jolted up with a gasp and a sputter. The power surge collapsed. The cuffs cycled down to dull metal again and the two were left panting in the pale blue moonlight.
“Oh,” said the villain, surveying the soggy ash that had been their bedding. “Happened again, did it?”
The hero slumped against the wall, wiped their face. The adrenaline pulse was long gone and they were left with nothing but the bone deep exhaustion of being woken yet again out of their REM sleep. From the drawn look on the villain’s face, they weren’t feeling much better. And they were starting to shake.
“Okay. Okay.” Break it down into steps, do the steps one at a time. The hero pushed themselves up. “You strip the bed, I’ll find some new blankets - oh shit!” they couldn’t help blurting out as they caught a glimpse of the villain’s wrists under the cuffs. The villain turned a mottled red, flinching from the hero’s gaze. The hero was too tired to figure out how they were supposed to respond to that. “Okay. First aid, then bedding, then - “
Their phone went off like an air raid alarm, shrill and insistent. The hero closed their eyes. “Shit.”
“You swear a lot when you’re tired,” the villain observed with a forced smirk, their jaw clenched to keep their teeth from chattering.
“Stand by,” the hero snapped. “I mean, just… wait here.”
With an angry twist of their hand, the hero yanked the water from the mattress, flinging the ball of now filthy liquid back into the bucket. They slammed the door behind them and stomped down the hall, fumbling the phone from their pajama pants pocket.
“Power surge at your location. Status?” snipped out the voice on the other end without greeting.
“I’m fine. All fine. Everything’s fine.” The hero tucked the phone under their shoulder as they yanked open the bathroom cabinets, trying to remember how to treat a burn. “Another, ah, involuntary nighttime trigger.”
There was a sigh, the sound of keyboard tapping. “That’s the third one this week. And this one nearly overloaded the cuffs.”
“What do you want me to do, not let them sleep?” The hero dug out their medical supplies from under the sink, grabbed a bottle of painkillers too. “[Villain] had a dream, the cuffs did their job, end of story. We are not sending them to SuperMax!” they added as they heard the intake of breath. “We need their cooperation. I have the situation under control!”
The Agency operator sniffed. “That’s not what these power readings say.”
“Good night.” The hero jabbed the red ‘hang up’ button viciously. Not for the first time, they wished there was some digital equivalent of an old-fashioned phone being slammed down into the cradle. They took a breath, grabbed their supplies, and left their phone in the medicine cabinet.
In the guest bedroom the villain was humming tunelessly as they stared up at the ceiling, pretending they hadn’t heard every word. They’d managed to kick the ruined blankets to the floor and get their normal leering mask solidly in place as the hero tossed the last unburnt comforter across them, sat at the edge of the mattress to smear aloe vera across the blistered skin under the cuffs.
“I have to admit, this is definitely not how I was hoping to get you in bed with me,” the villain drawled in a mostly steady voice. They plucked at the sleeve of the hero’s buttoned up shirt. “And that definitely isn’t the nightwear I was hoping for. Only you could make pajamas stuffy.”
“My pajamas are not stuffy,” the hero said evenly, catching the villain’s hands. “They are one hundred percent cotton and extremely breathable.”
The villain for once didn’t have a witty comeback. Their gaze dropped to their hands entwined with the hero’s, all different shades of blue in the moonlight. The hero paused as well, let the villain take their time.
“Are you going to ask me?” they asked with a bitter smile. “About the nightmares?”
The hero took a breath. “Do you want me to?”
“No,” the villain said without hesitation.
“Okay.” The hero pulled loose, tied off the last bit of bandage so they’d lie smoothly under the cuffs. “Budge over then.”
The villain blinked. “What?”
The hero smoothed out the quilt. “We’re out of options. Can’t leave you alone, can’t let you set my house on fire. So. Looks like you get me in bed after all.” And before they could think better of it, the hero swung themselves under the blanket.
The villain was rigid with surprise beside them. And warm, so so warm. God, why had they cheaped out and gone with a full for the guest bedroom instead of a queen? Or a king. Or maybe bunk beds.
“Is this torture?” the villain said in that flat, toneless voice. “Your toes are freezing.”
“You need to cool down,” the hero grumbled. “You’re always burning up.” They rested a hand over the villain’s forehead.
The hero didn’t mean anything by it, anything other than a simple temperature check. But they were too close to each other not to see the shudder that went through the villain. The way they melted into the touch.
“It’s over for you,” the villain whispered hoarsely, eyes shut. “When I burn through these cuffs.”
“Mmm.” the hero said. They dared to tug the villain closer - just an invitation, not a demand. The villain immediately cozied up to the hero side. Nuzzling into the hero’s neck. “Do your worst,” they whispered back, wrapping their arm around the villain and rubbing circles into the hot skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”
There were no more nightmares. There were a whole other set of problems. But that was a problem for the day time.
