no smut, just gn(or m)!reader, Jake, Quaritch, and tonowari, all in a cuddle pile, being as comfortable as they could possibly be, and murmuring sweet nothings to each other...
"That's the third time you've yawned in two minutes," Jake murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck. You don't even bother denying it, your eyelids are heavy as river stones, and the soft, rhythmic sound of Tonowari’s breathing isn’t helping.
The firelight paints the walls of the marui in flickering gold, shadows stretching and curling like lazy vines. Someone, probably Quaritch, shifts behind you, his arm draped heavily over your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns against your hip. It’s not the first time you’ve all ended up like this, tangled together like roots after a storm, but it still surprises you how easy it is. How right.
"You’re thinking too loud," Tonowari rumbles, the words vibrating through his chest where your back is pressed against him. His tail flicks lazily, curling around Jake’s ankle in a gesture so casual it makes your throat tighten.
Quaritch snorts, his breath stirring your hair. "Always does." There’s no bite to it, just fondness.
"You’re one to talk," you mumble, tilting your head back just enough to catch the glint of Quaritch’s teeth in the dim light. His grin is all lazy satisfaction, the kind that comes from knowing he’s won without even trying. "Like you don’t overthink every damn thing." His fingers pause their idle tracing, pressing just a little harder, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you shiver.
Jake chuckles, the sound low and warm, and you feel it where his chest brushes against your shoulder. "Both of you shut up," he murmurs, but there’s no real command in it, just the same drowsy contentment that’s settled over all of you like a second skin. His tail twitches against your thigh, a silent, grounding weight.
Tonowari hums, a deep, resonant sound that seems to ripple through you. "They will not," he says, and you can hear the amusement in his voice, thick as honey. "They enjoy this too much." His fingers slowly card through your hair, and you melt a little further into the tangle of limbs.
The fire pops, sending embers spiraling upward, and for a moment, the shadows dance across the ceiling like living things.
Quaritch exhales, long and slow, his breath hot against your temple. "Damn right," he mutters, and you can feel the way his lips curl against your skin. "S’good. Arguing with you." The admission is quiet, almost lost in the crackle of the flames, you don’t have to see his face to know he’s rolling his eyes at himself.
"You say that like it’s a revelation," Jake murmurs, his voice rough with sleep but still teasing. His tail flicks lazily against your thigh, like the drag of a paintbrush. "We know you love bickering. You’d argue with a rock if it looked at you funny."
Quaritch grumbles something unintelligible into your hair, but his fingers resume their idle tracing, this time mapping the curve of your ribs with a touch so light it’s barely there. You shiver, and Tonowari’s chest rumbles with a quiet laugh against your back. "Like a skxawng with a new toy," he says, the words warm.
Jake’s tail stills first, the lazy flicks against your thigh slowing until it lies heavy and warm across your legs. His breathing deepens next, the rise and fall of his chest evening out against your shoulder, his exhales turning slow and measured. You don’t need to look to know his face has gone slack, his sharp edges softened by sleep, his brow smooth, his lips slightly parted. The arm he’d draped over Tonowari’s side slips just a little, fingers going limp against the Olo’eyktan’s hip.
Quaritch notices it too. You feel the way his breath hitches in silent laughter against your temple, the way his fingers pause their tracing to tap once, pointedly, against your ribs. Look at him, that touch says, smug and fond all at once.
Quaritch lasts another minute, maybe two, before his breathing slows. You feel it in the way his fingers finally still against your ribs, the way his exhales deepen into something heavier, something surrendering. His grip slackens, his arm sliding just a fraction lower around your waist, but he doesn’t let go entirely.
Even asleep, he clings, like he’s afraid the tide might drag you away if he doesn’t hold on. His forehead rests against the curve of your shoulder now, his breath damp and warm through the fabric of your shirt.
You can’t help it— the laugh bubbles up before you can swallow it, muffled against Tonowari’s forearm where it’s curled around your shoulders. "They’re ridiculous," you whisper, tilting your head back just enough to catch the way his eyes gleam in the firelight, half-lidded and amused. His fingers pause in your hair, then resume their slow combing, the rhythm so steady it’s hypnotic.
"Mm. Like children," Tonowari agrees, voice a low rumble you feel more than hear. His tail flicks lazily, the tip brushing Jake’s ankle again, as if to say see? Even in sleep, Jake’s tail twitches in response, curling tighter around your thigh.
Quaritch, for his part, lets out a quiet, disgruntled noise, something between a sigh and a grumble, and nuzzles closer, his nose pressing into the hollow of your throat like he’s trying to burrow there. You swallow another laugh.
Tonowari’s fingers slow their combing through your hair, the deliberate drag of his fingers against your scalp becoming uneven, stuttering like a boat caught between currents. He exhales through his nose, long and controlled, as if he could will away the weight of his own exhaustion through sheer stubbornness alone.
You can feel the effort in the way his chest expands against your back, the deliberate steadiness of his breath, the slight tension in his arms where they cradle you.
"You’re fighting it," you murmur, tilting your head just enough to catch the flutter of Tonowari’s eyelids, heavy as storm clouds. His fingers twitch in your hair, a half-hearted denial, but the rhythm of his breathing is already slipping, long inhales, longer exhales, the kind that pull a person under whether they want it or not.
His chest rises against your back, like he’s counting each breath to stay anchored. It’s almost funny, how hard he’s trying, how pointless the effort is.
Quaritch snores softly against your collarbone, a quiet, uneven puff of air that makes Tonowari’s nose wrinkle in unconscious irritation. His arm tightens around you, just for a second, like he might shake the other man awake out of principle. But the moment passes, and his grip loosens again, his fingers going slack where they’re tangled in your hair. His exhale this time is a surrender, warm and damp against the nape of your neck.
Jake’s tail, still curled around your thigh, gives one last, half-hearted twitch, as if even in sleep, he’s trying to have the final word. The fire pops again, embers spiraling upward in a lazy dance, and the sound seems to startle Tonowari’s eyelids back open for a second. But it’s no use.
His head dips forward, his forehead pressing between your shoulder blades, his breath evening out into something deep and unresisting.
Sleep takes you like a slow tide, not all at once, but in creeping increments, the weight of Quaritch’s arm around your waist and Tonowari’s breath against your neck becoming indistinguishable from the warmth of the firelight. The last thing you register is the soft click of Jake’s tail against the woven floor mats, a sound that slips seamlessly into the rhythm of your dreams.
You don’t dream in images, not at first. It’s all sensation, the phantom press of fingers still tracing your ribs, the hum of Tonowari’s voice vibrating through you like a struck drum, the lazy curl of Jake’s tail around your ankle, anchoring you even in sleep. The fire’s crackle lingers at the edges of your awareness, weaving into the imagined whisper of wind through the mangroves outside, until you can’t tell where the marui ends and the dream begins.
