HEROES & VILLAINS ▹ call of duty oneshots

✭ trance (harper/section)

This is a warmup for an upcoming oneshot! First time writing this ship on my own, too. 

︻デ═一 

Harper doesn't think of himself as the type of person to relax easily. 

He'll be the first to admit that he has next to no sense of chill. He'll be the first person in the room to crack a joke or make a snide remark, even if the time may not call for it. He's not scared of confrontation or interrogation; he'll go right into one with a snarl and a pointed question, even storming in with a gun at the ready if the situation is dire. He's spent whole weekends out at parties, getting lost in bars and nightclubs. A long time ago he lost count of the number of people he's flirted with upon first meeting them. 

Whatever that count exactly amounted to, though, it ended with David. Every day, every night spent together brought them closer - to the point where they'd start hoping to be put in the same missions, where they could memorise each other's orders at ten different places, where they'd fall asleep in each other's arms on the nights when David's then-girlfriend wasn't around. Harper indeed flirted with David on the first day they knew each other, expecting this to only be a casual friendship, but the moment David first flirted back? Something soft silenced Harper, and he knew he was fucked. 

The closer he grew with David, the clearer it became to Harper who he wanted to stay with. Who he wanted to latch onto and never leave. 

To this day, he can't quite describe that first feeling of elation when it turned out David felt the same. 

To this day, David is the only person Harper can truly relax around. 

Knowing he's safe. Knowing he's loved. 

Harper wonders now, though, why it isn't working. Even nestled under the covers, wrapping both arms around his boyfriend (impossibly warm, like always; the kind of warmth one could never grow tired of), sleep isn't quite collecting him yet. He's stuck in limbo, that space in between - his eyes urge him to give them a rest, but as soon as they're closed, he feels wide awake all over again. Any attempt at simply relaxing only feels forced, only driving him further into limbo. At this point, he's dangerously close to giving up on sleep, instead staring at the blades of the ceiling fan rotating around and around and around. 

The only problem? He does want to sleep. He can't. 

The temptation to check his phone, to find something artificial to calm his mind, arises. He forces it back. 

Ironic, isn't it? In the military, everyone has to learn how to fall asleep in two minutes - or less, if plausible - and Harper thought he had it mastered; it's been awhile since a night like this when he's failed to find sleep like he usually can. On missions, that is. Off days can be harder, when getting any ounce of shut-eye isn't dire - but then again, they're more relaxed. At least a hundred times more relaxed. 

There are no stakes here - so why can't he sleep? 

Fucking hell. Like he even knows. Harper wordlessly huffs, rolling over to the other side of the pillow. 

"Something the matter, baby?" 

Harper nearly jumps. Even hushed, David's voice suddenly ringing out is enough to startle him. Apparently he very quickly noticed the loss of contact. 

It's usual for him, though. Inexplicably endearing. 

"Can't sleep," Harper mumbles, rolling back over, stopping to rest his head on his lover's shoulder. 

He doesn't have to say or do any more for David to wrap both arms around him - and immediately, Harper feels his every defense crumbling down all over again. It's not that he has much to hide, really; his life has grown to revolve around staying alert. All of it fades away, though, every time, in the embrace of the love of his life. 

Sometimes, hearing his voice is enough. Tonight is sadly not one of those times, but, Harper realises now, he and David are so fortunate they're both touch-seeking. 

Always so concerned, always on the lookout for him, David asks, "Is something bothering you?" 

"I don't know," Harper replies, still in a drowsy mumble. This, too, hides nothing. Everything's been fine lately - missions have been at lower stakes lately, none of their allies or friends are in immediate danger, it's been months since their escape. It could be a disconnect worry, a distant feeling of doom, for all he knows. He doesn't want to think harder on it. 

He doesn't really want to know. 

"You don't have to know, love," David reassures him. "It's okay. Just close your eyes for me." 

Harper does so. Before he knows it, he feels something gently combing through his hair. It's David, his fingers running up, then down, then across his hair, so slow and careful it's perfect. In a moment even more immediate than the last, a new warmth courses through Harper, his lips curling up into a smile as he clings onto his boyfriend. 

If he were a cat, Harper thinks, he'd definitely be purring right now. Loudly. 

He doesn't even need to look at David and his annoyingly gorgeous face, his dark hair he keeps brushed every day he has time (Harper admits he can't exactly relate), to fall into a trance. A trance induced only by love potions of myth. A trance that, as though by magic, completely relaxes him. 

Men like them, who spend their every day either on the battlefield or preparing for it, aren't exactly supposed to fall into trances like this one. As though that ever concerned Harper, though, every time he and David collapse right back into each other's always-waiting arms. All the stress, the pressure, the high stakes, the distant worry of disapproval or disavowal becomes nonexistent, dissipating like a short-lived puff of smoke. Like a flame being blown out. 

All that's left is bliss. 

A blissful trance. A trance he never wants to snap out of. 

Best of all? It's real. The feeling is real. The love is real. 

Harper's smile grows. David's fingers course through his short hair again, letting go for only a moment to return, almost idly playing with it. As long as he remains here, right here, exactly like this, it'll all be okay. Nothing can hurt either of them. Something cozy overtakes Harper, at last, something that was missing as he tried to force sleep to himself moments ago... 

He can't describe it. He doesn't want to anyway. The feeling of falling asleep while sheltered by the one you love - words can't do it justice. 

Even Harper, always the joker, the chatterbox, would know. He would, in fact, especially know. 

He's out within a few minutes. As he'd hope the next morning, David soon follows.