[He hates to be coddled, but he doesn't have the energy to fight or bend over to take care of his shoes on his own, let alone walk without aid, so he stubbornly reminds himself through the haze of exhaustion clouding his mind that she isn't coddling him but keeping him alive. And if he doesn't stay alive, then he can't stay with her, protect her, take care of her in turn. So he doesn't resist- he lets her take care of the boots, walk him to the bed, get him down on his back. He can't help the pained groan that escapes his lips as his shoulder hits the sheets, something not even her careful aid could have prevented, but as the mattress takes his weight he begins to relax, and the pain eases off into a familiar, numbing ache. He pants until his breathing stabilizes, already half-asleep now that he's off his feet, and her words barely break through his consciousness. Instinctually he mumbles something in return, or at least he thinks he does, but he's forgotten the words as soon as they leave his lips. Before he can try to recall it he's out, his hand pressed limp at her back and her warmth comforting against his side.
He wakes once, what feels like minutes but must be hours later, startled by a noise that somehow manages to rip through his weary unconsciousness. Outside the window there's a flash of light, followed by a quiet, distant rumble; the rain is falling, so the storm must have finally caught up with them. There's something gentle and therapeutic about the sound of it peppering against the roof above their heads. Through the door he can hear muffled voices, hushed and half-audible:
"I want to see Daddy! I thought we were going back?"
"Keep your voice down, dear, let them sleep. Tomorrow we'll get some food from the market so they can be proper settled, and once they're on their feet we can..."
Ah, the family. He shifts his gaze away from the door, zoning out of their conversation. If they're still here and free then they haven't been sold out to the Windermerians yet. It's a good sign that their position is still stable. He looks down at Kaname, still tucked to his side, arm around him. Safe. He closes his eyes at last, sleep quickly taking him once more.
He doesn't wake again until well into morning, when the sun shines too brightly through the curtains against his eyes. He squints, stirs, and reluctantly looks out; the storm is over, leaving a bright, sunshine-y day. It's so achingly familiar that it takes him a moment to remember where he is, that this isn't Ragna. The first clue is the window, looking nothing like his now-abandoned room above Chuck's family restaurant. The second clue is the woman dozing at his side, their arms entwined, warm and soft. She hadn't done this on Ragna. They'd never had the chance. The closest they'd gotten was on Eysion, during his recovery, half-dead in a hospital bed with her fingers curled around a hand he couldn't move, the contact of her skin and her quiet reassurance in his ear the only hints that he still had a hand left to hold.
Carefully he turns his head towards her, eyes lidded in half-sleep, content to just watch her rest. She needs it, with all the overworking she's done lately, doubling shifts between Walkure, planning with Molders, watching over him as he recovers. He can't bear to wake her until she's ready.
Maybe... just a little longer, they can stay like this.]
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He wakes once, what feels like minutes but must be hours later, startled by a noise that somehow manages to rip through his weary unconsciousness. Outside the window there's a flash of light, followed by a quiet, distant rumble; the rain is falling, so the storm must have finally caught up with them. There's something gentle and therapeutic about the sound of it peppering against the roof above their heads. Through the door he can hear muffled voices, hushed and half-audible:
"I want to see Daddy! I thought we were going back?"
"Keep your voice down, dear, let them sleep. Tomorrow we'll get some food from the market so they can be proper settled, and once they're on their feet we can..."
Ah, the family. He shifts his gaze away from the door, zoning out of their conversation. If they're still here and free then they haven't been sold out to the Windermerians yet. It's a good sign that their position is still stable. He looks down at Kaname, still tucked to his side, arm around him. Safe. He closes his eyes at last, sleep quickly taking him once more.
He doesn't wake again until well into morning, when the sun shines too brightly through the curtains against his eyes. He squints, stirs, and reluctantly looks out; the storm is over, leaving a bright, sunshine-y day. It's so achingly familiar that it takes him a moment to remember where he is, that this isn't Ragna. The first clue is the window, looking nothing like his now-abandoned room above Chuck's family restaurant. The second clue is the woman dozing at his side, their arms entwined, warm and soft. She hadn't done this on Ragna. They'd never had the chance. The closest they'd gotten was on Eysion, during his recovery, half-dead in a hospital bed with her fingers curled around a hand he couldn't move, the contact of her skin and her quiet reassurance in his ear the only hints that he still had a hand left to hold.
Carefully he turns his head towards her, eyes lidded in half-sleep, content to just watch her rest. She needs it, with all the overworking she's done lately, doubling shifts between Walkure, planning with Molders, watching over him as he recovers. He can't bear to wake her until she's ready.
Maybe... just a little longer, they can stay like this.]