period comfort for poly! dalbit cuz i'm suffering and i need self-indulgence
warnings : mfm/bl: dallas and two-bit are also in a relationship with each other! periods and all that stuff.
ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: i hate having anemia, my period hits so much harder, i'm literally high on ibuprofen rn and it still hurts😭
♱ *ೃ.
They don’t say much when they come in.
Not at first.
The door to your nice house in the nice side of town creaks open with the familiar groan of Dallas’s foot nudging it in. He’s got a six-pack of soda swinging from one hand and a greasy brown bag full of fries tucked under his arm. Two-Bit is behind him jingling your spare keys in his hand like a cat and the first aid kit stuffed halfway into his jacket pocket even though he damn well knows it ain’t that kind of hurting this time.
They’re quiet.
The kind of quiet that only settles on them when it’s about you.
And there you are. Right where they knew you’d be. On the couch, curled up in the farthest corner, the sleeves of one of the flannels that Dallas left at your place pulled down over your hands, a heating pad humming low and useless against the cramps that make your thighs feel like they're being wrung out like a rag.
You don’t even look up. Your curls—normally bouncing and perfectly styled—are mussed and flat from lying against the couch too long. Your cheeks are pale, lips parted just slightly, as if you’d been breathing through the ache.
Your eyes are glassy. You haven’t spoken all day.
And that about just kills them.
Dallas is the first to move. Because of course he is.
He drops the soda on the table like it’s nothing and shrugs out of his jacket, eyes not leaving you for even a second. The second he’s close enough, his hands are under the blanket you wrapped around yourself like a cocoon, and he’s lifting you into his lap with a quiet, “C’mere, doll.”
You barely respond, and that’s what makes it worse. Normally you’d complain that you’re too heavy, or whine just a little, calling him names as you melted right into his lap.
But now? You just tremble a bit. Nestle in. Let him hold you like a lifeline. “You feelin’ dizzy, baby?” he mutters against your hair, voice low and rough. “Hmm? Got that look like the lights are on but nobody’s home.”
His fingers brush along the base of your skull, smoothing your hair back with near-reverent care.
Two-Bit’s already kneeling by the couch, eyes soft, goofy grin nowhere in sight. “Brought the stupid heat pack you like,” he says, unzipping the front of his coat and pulling out the one shaped like a cartoon bunny. He presses it to your belly gently, making sure it’s not too hot. “And chocolate. Ol' Dally over here said no, but I told him we ain’t lettin’ our princess suffer and starve.”
You blink up at them slowly. That same dazed, teary look. Lips twitch like you want to thank them, but you don’t even have the energy to try. “You don’t gotta talk, baby,” Dallas murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We know.”
The next hour moves in quiet little waves.
They prop your legs up across Two-Bit’s lap, sandwiching you between them on the couch like you're the world's most precious parcel. Two-Bit rubs your ankles and calves, thumbs digging in just enough to distract you from the cramps. Dallas strokes your stomach beneath yourhis flannel, palm warm and slow, pressing against where the skin is slightly bloated.
“You always go all quiet when it hits bad like this,” Two-Bit says softly. “Like a little thing curled up to die or somethin’. Gets us all torn up inside, y’know.”
Dallas leans in closer, breath warming your cheek. “You should see how you look, sweetheart. Makes me wanna set the world on fire just so you don’t gotta feel nothin’ this bad again.”
“Maybe don’t do that,” Two-Bit mutters. “Startin’ to get used to this town, hellhole or not.”
You let out a breath. A whisper of a sound. Barely a laugh. But they both hear it.
And just like that, the knot in their chests starts to loosen. “You’re not leavin’ this couch,” Dallas mutters, practically scowling. “We’re tag-teaming nurse duty. You don’t move unless it’s to pee or throw up. Got it?”
You sniffle and nod, lip trembling.
Two-Bit notices. “Aw, darlin’... don’t cry…”
“I’m not tryin’ to,” you whisper, finally letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Just hurts so much…”
Keith kisses your temple and makes a tsk noise. “Low iron on top of cramps. That’s just plain cruel. How the hell do girls survive this every month?”
“Cause they’re stronger than us,” Dally mutters, stroking your hair now, too. “She’s the toughest of the three of us.”
You smile, even if your eyes are still glassy. You feel them both leaning into you, draping themselves over your tired body like weighted blankets.
By the time the heating pad’s gone lukewarm and the night’s settled deep into the walls, you’re half-asleep in Dallas’s arms, cheek resting against his chest. He’s still rubbing slow circles into your stomach beneath the flannel. Two-Bit is watching your chest rise and fall, still kneeling on the floor, holding your hand and occasionally kissing your fingers or knuckles just to get your glassy eyes to flutter down at him.
“You wanna sleep here tonight?” Dallas whispers. “Right here, on us? We’ll stay real still. We won’t move a muscle, not ‘til you’re good.”
You nod faintly. A tear slips down your cheek, and you don’t even know why. It’s not the pain this time. It’s the comfort. The warmth. The way they look at you like you’re something sacred.
Like they’d die before letting you hurt another second.
“You’re our girl,” Two-Bit says. “Even if you’re quiet. Even if you cry. Even when you don’t got your bows in and you’re sweaty and half-dead from bleedin’.”
Dallas leans down and whispers, right into your ear:
“You’re our whole goddamn world, sugar. Period or not.”
And just before you drift off, curled up between them like the sweetest kind of secret, you whisper back:
“love you.”
They don’t say it out loud, but you feel it in the way they hold you. In the way they breathe you in like a lifeline.
And when they both press kisses to either side of your face, you smile in your sleep—cramps and all.
