D3r’s bed is too big for one person and exactly right for two. It smells faintly like clean cotton and something warmer underneath it, a familiar scent that Avery has started to associate with safety—like the room itself knows how to hold its breath so nothing important gets startled away. The lights are off except for the soft moonlight leaking in through the curtains, thin stripes across the wall that don’t quite reach them. Avery is curled on his side, knees tucked up, his glow turned way down to a soft, steady ember that pulses in time with his breathing.
D3r is behind him, close enough that Avery can feel the heat of him through their clothes, a solid presence pressed along his back. One arm is draped over Avery’s middle, hand resting just above his stomach like it belongs there. The other is bent, forearm tucked under Avery’s pillow, as if he’d reached out in his sleep and found him instead. Their legs are tangled in a lazy, comfortable way—no effort, no negotiation, just where they happened to land and decided not to move.
Avery shifts a little, more out of habit than need, and D3r makes a quiet sound behind him, not quite a word. His arm tightens a fraction, instinctive, grounding.
“Hey,” D3r murmurs, voice low and rough in that way it gets when he’s half-asleep. His breath brushes the back of Avery’s neck. “You good, Aves?”
“Yeah,” Avery whispers back. He tucks his chin down, shoulders easing. “Just… comfy.”
D3r huffs a soft laugh against his hair. “Yeah. Me too.”
There’s no rush to fill the quiet. The world outside hums, distant and unimportant. Avery listens to D3r breathe, slow and even, the rise and fall of his chest steady against Avery’s back. He counts it without thinking, the way you count waves when you’re not trying to sleep but don’t mind if you do.
D3r’s fingers flex absently where they rest on Avery’s stomach, thumb tracing a small, mindless arc through the fabric of Avery’s shirt. It’s not intentional in the way that requires permission; it’s the kind of touch that happens when someone is so comfortable they forget to stop touching you.
“You’re warm,” D3r murmurs after a while, voice closer now. He shifts just enough to tuck his chin near Avery’s shoulder, nose brushing the edge of Avery’s hair. “Like… not in a bad way. Just—” He exhales. “Nice.”
He still can't quite wrap his mind around D3r not wearing his helmet to bed when they're sharing like this, he just laughed softly when Avery had asked about it earlier, something about not having it being more comfortable when they're like this.
Avery feels heat bloom in his chest, a soft flare that he reins in automatically. “Sorry,” he says, even though he’s not sure why. Old habit.
D3r snorts. “Don’t apologize for existing, Aves.” The word slips out gentle and fond, wrapped in a smile Avery can hear even if he can’t see it. “I like it. Helps me sleep.”
Avery’s glow brightens without asking, a faint wash of green-gold that leaks through the fabric and paints D3r’s forearm. Avery swallows and presses his face a little deeper into the pillow, trying to hide it even though there’s nothing to hide.
They lie like that, suspended in the in-between. Avery thinks about nothing in particular—the way the mattress dips under D3r’s weight, the steady warmth of his arm, the quiet certainty that if he shifted too far, D3r would follow without waking fully. His thoughts drift, unmoored, until they circle back to the same place they always do lately.
It’s not a sharp realization anymore. It’s a constant, like gravity. Avery’s chest tightens with it, a feeling so full it almost aches. He shifts again, this time on purpose, just enough to turn his head slightly so his cheek presses against D3r’s forearm. The fabric of D3r’s shirt is soft from wear, familiar.
D3r’s thumb pauses, then resumes its slow, absent tracing. “You okay ⎓╎∷ᒷ⎓|:॥?” he asks again, quieter now. Closer. “Your glow’s… brighter.”
Avery lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Yeah. I just—” He trails off, words tangling somewhere behind his teeth. He wasn’t planning on saying anything. He really wasn’t. It just… sits there, heavy and warm and impossible to ignore.
“Just what?” D3r prompts gently. He shifts a little closer, chest pressing more firmly into Avery’s back, like he’s bracing without realizing it. His voice is careful in that way it gets when something matters.
Avery stares at the wall, at the thin stripes of light, at nothing at all. His heart starts to race, the steady calm giving way to a flutter that makes his glow stutter.
“It’s stupid,” Avery mutters.
D3r hums. “I don’t think you do stupid.”
Avery lets out a small, breathy laugh despite himself. “You say that, but—” He stops again. His fingers curl into the blanket, knuckles brushing D3r’s hand. The contact sends a jolt through him, soft but undeniable.
The words slip out before he can catch them, quiet and unguarded. “I love you.”
The room seems to still around them. Avery’s glow flares in a rush of embarrassed light, bright enough that he can see the edges of the bed, the curve of D3r’s arm, the outline of D3r’s hand against the blanket. He sucks in a sharp breath, heat flooding his face.
“I—” Avery rushes on, flustered, words tumbling over each other now that the dam’s broken. “I didn’t mean to—well, I did mean it, I just didn’t mean to say it like that, not like it’s a thing you have to—” He cuts himself off with a groan, shoulders hunching. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything. You can pretend I didn’t—”
D3r’s arm tightens around him, firm and unmistakable. “Aves,” he says, voice steady but softer than before. His hand presses flat against Avery’s stomach, grounding, anchoring. “Hey. ⎓╎∷ᒷ⎓|:॥. Look at me.”
Avery hesitates, then turns his head, just enough to catch a glimpse of D3r’s face in the dim light. D3r’s eyes are open now, focused entirely on him, expression unreadable in the low glow except for the gentleness there, unmistakable.
“Breathe,” D3r murmurs. “You’re okay.”
Avery does, a shaky inhale followed by a slower exhale. His glow dims a notch, settling back into a nervous flicker.
D3r shifts again, carefully, rolling them just enough that Avery ends up half on his back, half tucked against D3r’s chest. D3r props himself up on one elbow so he can look down at Avery properly, the other arm still wrapped securely around him. He doesn’t crowd him. He just… stays.
“I’m not mad,” D3r says quietly, as if that needs saying. His thumb brushes Avery’s side, a reassuring sweep. “And you don’t have to apologize for how you feel.”
Avery swallows, eyes darting away despite himself. “I didn’t want to make it weird.”
D3r smiles a little at that, soft and real. “You didn’t.”
There’s a pause, thick with possibility, with all the things D3r could say. Avery’s heart hammers, his glow threatening to spike again.
D3r leans down, resting his forehead gently against Avery’s. “I’m really glad you told me,” he says. His voice is warm, steady. “I love you too.”
Avery’s breath catches hard in his chest. The glow surges, bright and uncontrolled, washing the room in green-gold light that paints D3r’s face in soft edges. Avery lets out a small, incredulous sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
D3r chuckles quietly, nose brushing Avery’s. “Yeah, ⎓╎∷ᒷ⎓|:॥. I do.”
Avery hides his face against D3r’s chest, overwhelmed in the best way, core pulsing wildly as he tries—and fails—to get it under control. “I’m being really obvious about it, aren’t I?”
D3r’s laughter rumbles through him. “A little,” he admits fondly. “It’s cute.”
Avery groans, but his arms come up on their own, wrapping around D3r’s torso and pulling him closer. D3r goes willingly, settling them back down into the bed, rolling so Avery is tucked against him again, heart to heart this time.
D3r presses a soft kiss to Avery’s hair, lingering. “Sleep,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
Avery relaxes into him, the last of his nerves melting away, glow easing back into a calm, contented shimmer. He nestles closer, fitting perfectly into the space D3r makes for him.
“Hey, D3r?” he murmurs, voice already thick with sleep.
D3r smiles into his hair, arms secure around him. “I know, Aves,” he says softly. “I know.”
