This... turned out differently than I intended, and there's not much fluff - well, kinda, still fluff, but sorta angsty. I'm sorry anon ;u; hopefully you'll still enjoy it!
XXX
Hibiki was woken up by Yamato’s heel kicking him full force in the shin.
His first reaction was to curse (very loudly) and sit up while flailing as much as possible – he wasn’t quite sure why, really, but his body seemed to think it was in the middle of being attacked, and thus, tried to wave off the threat in the most ridiculous way possible. Once Hibiki had figured out that, no, he was not currently being assaulted by a midnight assailant, he stopped flailing and sat there feeling heavily disorientated, a throbbing pain shooting up his shin.
Wha…?
Movement next to him broke him out of his confused daze, and he quickly looked down to see that the culprit of his sore shin was… Yamato. His partner seemed to be in the middle of some sort of vivid dream, with how much he was shifting, his leg kicking out every so often – it reminded Hibiki of a dreaming dog, but his amusement didn’t last long when he realised that as well as being unusually restless, Yamato also looked very… distressed.
His face, which was normally relaxed in sleep, was tense, his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut, his skin looking paler than usual in the dim light, with a clammy sort of sweat clinging to it. His hands were also gripping onto the bedsheet, fingers digging right into the fabric and twisting it viciously, and his breathing was coming out short and frantic, his entire body starting to thrash wildly.
Oh shit.
“Fuck,” Hibiki swore, pushing himself up onto his knees, but didn’t touch Yamato yet. This had happened before in the past, and the last time Hibiki tried to shake him awake, it ended up with him very nearly getting a broken arm when it had triggered Yamato’s killer self-defence instincts. However, he couldn’t just let Yamato thrash about in obvious distress either, so, after steeling himself for surprise punches or kicks, Hibiki leaned over and caught one Yamato’s shoulder to shake-
Immediately Yamato’s fist tried to clock him right in the face – Hibiki deftly leant back, avoiding the blow by a mere fraction, and caught his partner’s wrist, the other one too when he tried to retaliate with another punch, holding onto them gently yet firmly as he hurriedly swung a leg over him and sat on his stomach. This was probably the worst way to go about waking someone up in the middle of a nightmare, but this would hopefully reduce the risk of either of them getting hurt – hopefully.
“Yamato!” Hibiki called, pressing Yamato’s wrists down on the bed while the man struggled mindlessly under him. He could hear his feet kicking out, the springs of the bed squeaking violently in protest. Shit, Hibiki felt like he was trying to ride a wild stallion with how Yamato was trying to buck him off, “Yamato, wake up!”
Yamato snarled something then – but it was too low and guttural for Hibiki to make out clearly, and then- his hand was abruptly wrenched free, and Hibiki only had about half a second to brace for impact before he had Yamato punching him right in the face with an insanely painful left hook. Hibiki literally saw stars, and the next second he was – suddenly shoved down onto the bed, Yamato on top of him, and hands clenched very tightly around his throat, squeezing to the point where Hibiki physically could not breathe-
“Y-Yaanngh…” Hibiki gurgled out, grasping onto Yamato’s wrists to try and pull his hands away – but no dice. His partner’s eyes were open, barely, thin slights with pupils dilated and unfocused and he was obviously not fully aware of who he was throttling at the moment, but, okay, wow, Hibiki could see black spots starting to dance in his vision and he predicted that he was probably going to choke to death within the next sixty seconds if he didn’t do anything-
Cruel to be kind, then.
Mustering his resolve, Hibiki desperately lashed out – and managed to return the left hook right into Yamato’s pale cheek.
Yamato jolted from the strike – it obviously wasn’t that strong if he barely flinched – but it got the desired effect. Clarity came to those unfocused eyes, and there was a stunned second before Yamato snatched his hands away from Hibiki’s throat like he had been burned, practically tumbling onto the bed when he recoiled off of Hibiki entirely.
Hibiki just tried not to choke when he wheezed for air, rolling onto his side as he coughed past the agony in his throat – his windpipe felt semi-crushed, everything was spinning, and there was a loud throbbing pounding in his ears. Hibiki could faintly hear Yamato’s voice, although he couldn’t make out his words – and then there was a gentle touch against the side of his neck, followed by the warmth of healing magic.
The pain in his throat eased, even if it ached terribly like one giant bruise, and his breathing still came out strained. Hibiki cracked an eye open to see Yamato leaning over him, his face impossibly paler than usual, with his lips set in a thin line, eyes narrowed almost angrily. Was he angry? Well… Hibiki could see the red mark on Yamato’s cheek. He did punch him…
“Hibiki? Hibiki, can you hear me?” Yamato asked, his voice taut with tension. Hibiki managed to wheeze out something, his voice hoarse. It was apparently enough for Yamato, since he immediately relaxed a fraction, even if his expression was still thoroughly unhappy.
“Sorry…” Hibiki coughed, slowly sitting up. His head still felt worrying light, but he didn’t feel ready to pass out or anything. He blinked a few times, gingerly massaging his throat. It still ached, and he could see it continuing to do so for a few hours. “I probably… should’ve…tried to wake…you up… with a broom…or something…”
It was difficult to talk too, and the more Hibiki spoke, the more thunderous Yamato’s expression became. By the time he had finished, Yamato looked ready to finish the job, his hands balled into tight fists in his lap. Honestly, Hibiki was half-prepared for another strike to the face.
“You are not to apologise for this,” Yamato said curtly, looking away to direct his frightful scowl at the wall instead. The mark against his cheek was stark, already darkening into a vivid bruise. Hibiki winced in guilt – he disliked harming Yamato, and even though, logically, Hibiki knew there had been little choice in the matter, he still…
Abruptly, Yamato turned back to him, and reached out. Hibiki couldn’t stop a cautious flinch, adrenaline still thrumming in high alert in his veins, and he saw Yamato hesitate briefly, something complicated passing through his expression, before he continued to gently touch his throat. His fingertips were cool, but pain still throbbed underneath his careful touch.
“Are you having difficulty in breathing?” Yamato asked, his tone cool and clinical, “Swallowing? I have cast a Diarama, but I’m uncertain if that could fix any serious damage in the throat. I should probably call Yanagiya to ensure-”
“Yamato,” Hibiki interrupted, half-coughing that word out, “I-It’s fine. It’s just… um, sore… s’all. Let’s not… call Otome about this…”
Yamato pulled his hand away, and returned to his previous position of sitting with his hands balled up in his lap, his shoulders almost slumped and expression unhappy. No, he looked more angry than unhappy, although Hibiki’s didn’t know if Yamato was angry at him, himself, or the situation in general. Maybe all three.
An awkward silence followed, one that Hibiki was uncertain on how to break. Yamato trying to kill him in his sleep was not something that happened regularly – but it was sad to say that this was not the first time something like this occurred. Hibiki understood why it happened, and he couldn’t quite blame Yamato for it – they had a dangerous job, they fought for their lives almost on a regular basis – hell, sometimes when Hibiki had nightmares, he attacked Yamato in a mindless state as well. He never tried to strangle him, but he had punched and kicked him a few times. It was just… a sadly natural response to all the shit they went through.
Hibiki stopped rubbing at his throat, and leaned forwards, settling a hand over one of Yamato’s tightly clenched fists. Pale eyes glanced up at him, narrowed and flashing with suppressed fury. Hibiki didn’t flinch, and instead managed to muster a small smile. His cheek throbbed from the movement, and, oh boy, he probably had a bruise there too. Fantastic.
“Oi, hey… it’s okay, alright…?” He murmured, his voice sounding uncomfortably husky to his ears. “I’m not dead, so, no harm, no foul.”
“That isn’t the point,” Yamato said coldly.
“Probably not, but…” Hibiki shrugged carelessly, rubbing his thumb against Yamato’s knuckles, trying to coax him to relax his hand. His partner resisted his attempts to calm, and just glared at him, looking like he was sorely tempted to headbutt him. Hibiki couldn’t hide an amused smile at the thought. “Look… that kinda stuff’s gonna happen. Next time, I’ll,” he coughed, “I’ll be more careful. I’ll just toss water over you from a distance, or something…”
Yamato closed his eyes with a soft sigh, tilting his head down a fraction. His hand had relaxed as well, and Hibiki immediately curled his fingers around his partner’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. He wasn’t kidding though. Next time he was going to throw water over Yamato from across the damned room – screw the rules of not waking someone up like that.
“I mean it,” Hibiki continued, his tone lilting playfully – the effect was ruined by his hoarse voice, but whatever, “Next time you try to punch me in your sleep, you’re gonna get a bucket of water and ice cubes in your face.”
“…hm…” Yamato let out a noise that could’ve been a soft laugh, or a rough sigh, “That would probably be best. As much as you antagonise me at times, I do not relish harming you so… severely. I apologise for strangling you.”
“…but not for punching me,” Hibiki mock-grumbled, “I see how it is…”
Yamato gazed at him with an unreadable expression, but after a tense pause, Hibiki could see something relax in him. He still looked slightly upset, but he wasn’t as taut with distress or anger. “An occasional physical reprimand is allowed.”
Hibiki snorted, and then coughed when that made his throat ache, “Ow. That was not a ‘physical reprimand’ that was trying to smash my cheekbone into powder.”
Yamato glanced away, and Hibiki felt his fingers return the earlier squeeze almost hesitantly, “Perhaps it was a bit too hard – you have an abnormal amount of swelling there.”
“Swelling?” Hibiki immediately touched his cheek with his free hand, wincing when it touched tender skin. It… felt really swollen, actually. Oh no, his precious, handsome face…! “Oh, man, Yamato, you damaged my beautiful face!”
Yamato’s expression deadpanned, and without warning he yanked his hand out of Hibiki’s, “Obviously, you’re not as injured as I feared, if you can fret about your physical appearance.”
“Hey-”
“You will see Yanagiya in the morning,” Yamato cut him off, leaving Hibiki a bit off-kilter with the sudden topic change, “Your way of speaking is still strained, and your breathing sounds somewhat obstructed, still.”
“It’s just sore…” Hibiki muttered, “But, what am I gonna say? I doubt ‘I walked into a door’ is going to cover this up.”
“Why cover it up?” Yamato said. His expression and tone were unreadable, “I attacked you in my sleep due to an inability to effectively control myself whilst dreaming. That is fact, and not one to hide to keep my reputation clean.”
“Yeah, but…” Hibiki frowned. He didn’t want to paint Yamato in too bad of a light – he understood why it happened, and the amount of times Hibiki had punched him while in the middle of a particularly bad nightmare was more times than he could count – meanwhile this had happened so irregularly that Hibiki could count the amount of times it happened on one hand.
“Say what you will,” Yamato finally said, “I won’t dictate to you what you should say, but know that I don’t care if you explain it to Yanagiya if she asks about it tomorrow. The bruising is quite vivid, so she will know either way.”
That was true – she was a doctor, so she would be able to recognise handprint bruises around someone’s neck. Hibiki felt his shoulders slump a fraction, “Okay… whatever. We’ll see how it goes.”
Another awkward silence rolled round, and Hibiki broke it with a sigh, “Um, but yeah… are you okay? It must’ve been a nasty shock, to, y’know…”
“I’m fine,” Yamato’s expression closed, “I won’t be returning to bed, however. I think I will go and… clear my head for a bit,” his tone became stern then, “You remain here and rest.”
“Yes, sir,” Hibiki mock-saluted, if only to break the suddenly heavy mood, but his partner only gave him a glance before rising off the bed and disappearing into their adjoining bathroom. A few minutes later, Hibiki heard the spray of the shower, and the gurgle of pipes – he lied back down then.
The bedside clock said it was just past two in the morning. There was the entire night left, but Hibiki knew that Yamato wouldn’t dare to return to bed at all tonight – and would make up an excuse as to why they shouldn’t sleep together for the next week or so. It was frustrating, but Hibiki would roll with it. He knew better than to push or argue.
He pulled the duvet up to his shoulder and curled up on his side, letting his eyes close. He felt exhausted, pained throat or not – he wished he could just tell Yamato not to worry about it, or, anything, but it wasn’t something just so easily waved off. Even though Hibiki said it was okay, that he understood – it still left him thoroughly shaken. To have your trusted partner attempting to kill you was not something easily taken in stride. A bit of space actually would be okay for a few days.
Hibiki rolled over, unable to get fully comfortable, but eventually the low, continuous drone of the shower lulled him into an uneasy sleep.
