"It's too fucking bright," I grumbled as i trudged through the early hours of the morning, along the smooth tarmac of las nervadas, grateful for the desert heat this early, as I was only wearing a vest. I had to use my shirt to tourniquet someone's leg after a nasty bar fight.
I lifted my hand to my face, tracing the fresh cut there, it ran along my cheek bone, but it wasn't deep, only a passing blow from a shard of glass. It wouldn't scar. I sighed, grateful to be nearly home as my penthouse came into view. I didn't normally get home this early, cleanup nearly always takes about another hour, but after a long night of stitching people up after the bar fight, I was exhausted. Foolish took one look at me and said he could cover my shift. I was highly aware that I was covered in blood, even if it was for a good cause.
I shoved open the doors to the office, striding over to the elevator, the only things on my mind being my comfy bed and a hot shower. The ride didn't take long, I was standing in front of my door before long, fighting with my key that my tired fingers couldn't manage to use successfully. The satisfaction of the click made me smile as I practically fell through the door.
I slumped on the sofa, my eyes closing before I could help myself, drfiting off into dreamland for a bit. But when I woke slowly, the sun a wonderful golden through the glass of my window, I was aware that I was snuggled into someone's side. I stayed motionless, other than to run my hand down my thigh, feeling for the knife that I kept there, bound to my leg for any close calls. When I found it, I pulled it free, moving quickly to place it at the throat of the person next to me.
I rolled my eyes, and groaned, pressing my knife in a little. It was Wilbur, his long brown hair stained gold by the sun, fanned out around his face like a halo. His torso was bare, the blankets covering his waist and below, his scars and muscles defined well by the morning light. His lips were created in a smirk, his eyes still heavy with sleep, his cheeks flushed slightly.
"Kinky." He laughed, his voice invitingly deep, as he sat up slightly to move away from my knife. "Good morning to you too Q." I flicked my knife away, before throwing the covers off me, standing with a stretch, only to realise that I was shirtless. I threw Wilbur a death stare, which he chuckled at, slumping back down again, his eyes still on me.
"Is there a reason that you're in my bed...naked?" I asked, keeping my eyes trained determinedly on his face.
"Not naked." He smirked, lifting the covers quickly to show me his lower half. He laughed at my face, flushed with heat, as I turned away, frowning. "You should be thanking me, quackity, you fell asleep covered in blood." He spoke to my back.
"I was gonna shower," I mumbled, spotting my bloody vest thrown on the floor by the door. "And why my bed Wilbur, you have a bed in your crusty ass van."
"It was closer." He whinged, rolling over so he was on his side, staring at me, as I turned round to look at him incredulously. "You need to sleep big Q," he added, his gaze and tone softening as i rubbed my face, trying to push the grogginess away.
"Yeah Wilbur, I do, so get the fuck out of my bed," I growled, walking over to the door, pulling it open and pointing out of it, giving him a pointed look. He rolled his eyes, stretching as his feet hit the floor, my eyes tracing over his torso, grateful that his eyes were closed. He grabbed his jumper and coat from the floor, walking slowly towards me.
"Fine, but I'm sleeping on your couch." He spoke softly again, it was a voice I hadn't heard him use a lot. "Go to sleep big Q." He fell dramatically onto my couch, covering himself up with a blanket which sat conveniently on the edge of the coffee table, freshly clean.
I slammed my door to prove a point, making my way over to the bathroom. I showered quickly, desperate for sleep again, but grateful to be clean. I pulled on an old pair of sweats, leaving my torso bear, before towelling my hair dry, and slinging it into a messy pony tail on the back of my head.
I finally fell into bed, snuggling into the sheets. But it felt wrong, too big, too cold despite just being slept in, like my bed had grown three sizes and been laced in ice whilst I had been in the shower.
I tossed and turned, sleep evading me, a picture of Wilbur coming back to me a lot, Wilbur snuggled invitingly, warmly, next to me, allowing my sleeping unknowing self to cuddle him. Wilbur curled up on the sofa, shivering. Wilbur carrying me to bed, slinging my red stained vest away.
I huffed angrily, rolling out of bed and yanking open the door, but stopping when my eyes fell on his face. A bean of sun fell on his face, his long eyelashes turned gold just like his hair, his pale face peaceful and actually a pleasant sight for once. It was the most vulnerable I'd ever seen him. I just looked at him for a bit, his peace washing over me in waves, before I pulled myself together.
I crept over to him, nudging him in the ribs. He woke with a confused smile that stole my breath for a second, before I grabbed his wrist, leading him as he jumped up, the blanket falling from his body. I pulled him to the bed, tugging when he stumbled, wanting on,y sleep and warmth.
"Say a fucking word about this and I'll cut you." I mumbled, sleep taking away any hints of aggression from my voice, as I pushed him onto the bed. I slumped into his side, pulling the blankets over us both. His arms snaked around me and I didn't push them off, the warm finally returning. I laid my head on his chest, feeling the movements of his breathing, listening to his too fast heartbeat.
"Cute." I heard him whisper, sleep taking my thoughts before I could punch him.
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