Giant Dancing Hedgehogs are Nightmare Fuel

Chapter 4

With the weighted blanket and hedgehog, Vegas sleeps better than he has since waking up from his coma. The only time he had woken up had been when he asked Pete to read wedding magazines to him. Pete only got to read three and a half articles until Vegas was nodding off. That had been fine with Pete, since prior to that, Vegas had been clutching a magazine focused on the most romantic proposal stories, insisting that he needed to read it himself.

Pete may have forced it out of Vegas's grasp as soon as he was definitely asleep and pushed it under the bed. If Vegas remembers the magazine's existence and gets upset over its disappearance, Pete will just pretend that it fell and give it back to him. That's the only way though. 

"I love you, Pete."

Pete lets out a breath and meets Vegas's adoring gaze, "Good morning to you too, Vegas."

Vegas keeps staring at him, his eyes shining with infatuation as he reaches over and holds out his hand until Pete takes it. He focuses on pulling on Pete's fingers and tracing the lines on his palm obsessively. It's been a thing and it's sort of weird, but Pete reminds himself that it's because of the drugs, the effects from the coma, and possibly Vegas's autism. Reminding himself helps Pete from getting overwhelmed due to all the touching. He just needs to find a way to redirect it. Not every time. Pete doesn't mind it happening here and there. In fact, it feels sort of nice occasionally. It just happens a lot, basically every time Vegas is awake and Pete is sitting next to him.

"You feeling okay?" Pete asks, watching Vegas hyperfocusing on one of the lines on his palm.

"Uh huh," Vegas says, distracted by his self-appointed task.

"Okay, that's good," Pete tells him, "Are you going to tell my fortune soon? Should I go see if Tesco sells crystal balls?"

Vegas pauses in tracing the lines and sheepishly lets go of Pete's hand before fumbling with the blanket, pulling at it and twisting it around his fingers nervously. Pete frowns and reaches back over to put his hand on top of his. 

"I was just teasing you a little," Pete says gently, "I don't mind. You are very fidgety though. I got you-"

"I'm sorry," Vegas says suddenly, sounding stressed, "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Pete's frown deepens and he scoots his chair closer, "Why are you apologizing?"

"Please don't get mad," Vegas says, his voice sounding tight before pushing the weighted blanket off of him, "I don't need this stuff. I promise. I don't need it-"

"Hey," Pete says, keeping a hand on the weighted blanket so it doesn't fall on the ground, "It's alright if you need it-"

"You can take it back to the store," Vegas continues, talking more quickly, "I don't need it, I swear. Just take it back."

Pete stares at him for a moment, then stands up from the chair and sits down next to Vegas on the bed. Vegas momentarily pauses his self-induced anxiety attack to watch Pete with confusion as Pete situates the blanket over the both of them. 

"Oh, shit," Pete says, genuinely surprised as he lies back, feeling more at ease than he has in a while as he closes his eyes, "This does feel nice. Vegas, why didn't you let me try this sooner? Next time I go out, I'm getting one for myself."

Vegas stares at him, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't figure out what to say, then clears his throat, "You don't have to pretend. I know I'm a freak. But you can take it back. I know that I don't need-"