Fingers tapping against knuckles, as if waiting for something to happen, is how Lucy finds herself once again. Silence rings out throughout the small room of the bunker. Her roommate Jiya having long since fallen asleep.
Darkness envelops her, metal clanging through the building every once in a while doing nothing to settle her mind, and she finds herself staring up at the ceiling into nothing. She moves her head towards the direction of the sleeping form across from her, but she sees nothing, just a soft rustling from her as she flips sides. Moving her sight back to the ceiling, she continues the drum of her fingers.
A small frown comes to her face, as she sits up, swinging her legs to hang over the edge of the bed, her shoulders hunched, as she pushes her weight into a standing position.
She doesn't bother grabbing a robe, instead opting to leave in just her baggy white t-shirt and sweatpants. Her hair piled atop her head, she wipes at her eyes with her hand, trying to create some sort of focused vision before heading out into the hall.
The dim lights always give off an eery vibe to the bunker, but especially at night. Being wildly claustrophobic, the thought of being underground, essentially in one giant tomb does little to soothe her mind, but rather shrouds her in anxiety, still unaccustomed and uncomfortable in their living situation.
She's not sure where she's going until she ends up with her hand on the handle of a door that looks exactly like her own.
The noise of the latch opening echoes through the hall, and her face scrunches up in that awkward way that always has Wyatt referring to her as an open book, one in which she writes her emotions in it as plain as day.
"Lucy?" She hears, as she moves to close the door, blocking out the light, and hoping not to have woken up Rufus too.
"I'm sorry," she says, tiptoeing in her socked feet to the bed to her right, tripping over a pair of shoes at the foot of the bed frame.
She can't quite make out his features, but she can see his silhouette moving in the way of silent laughter as she hobbles over to him.
"What are you doing here?" He asks, and she swears a hint of a smile ghosts across his lips now that she's standing closer and can make out his face.
"I umm…couldn't sleep," she confesses, a defeated tone to her voice, having admitted to what he'd confronted her with just a day ago.
Lucy's just about to suggest they leave go to the kitchen, not wanting to wake the sleeping man across from them, but she's cut off, when Wyatt scoots over to the wall, pulling the sheet up, offering her a space next to him.
She's grateful the darkness covers her heated cheeks that are surely a shade of red right now, at the suggestion of the two of them sharing a tight space. Again. She'd barely made it out of that trunk without his lips on her's, and if she's honest, she can still feel the wisp of his breath against her, the pressure of his hips leaning into her's, as he hovered above her.
"You gonna get in or not?" He teases, and she narrows her eyes at him, before climbing into the bed.
He rests against his hand, propped up so he's able to look down at her. She's positioned on her side, and only shivers a little when her sweatpants ride up just a bit, making contact with the bare skin of his leg, glancing down to find that he's also bare chested. A fact she hadn't been able to see until now.
The heat radiating off his skin has her burying her head in the one pillow resting on the bed. Only furthering her assault against herself, the scent of his shampoo lingering on the material, her eyes closing as she takes in the scent of him enveloping her in its grasp.
His hand reaches out, hesitating a second, before landing on her hip, pulling her closer, the edge of the small bed threatening to toss her onto the floor.
She lets out a small cough, and she can feel the stubble of his smile as he lowers his head to rest on the pillow with her. His hand coming to find the small of her back, securely wrapping her up in his embrace. His fingers having pulled up her t-shirt just slightly, his thumb making small circles against her bare skin, eliciting a sigh from her lips before she can catch it, and a trail of goosebumps to crawl up her back.
"Not helping," she whispers, but it comes out as more of a tease than anything.
"Right, sleep," he teases back, his cheeks hollowing out to the dimples that only appear when he's smiling, and she's found it's usually aimed at her lately, not unlike right now.
He scoots closer, moving one of his legs to rest in between her own, as her hand wanders up to his face. Her fingertips trailing the line of his jaw, the stubble pricking her skin, until she's all but cradling his face in her hand, her thumb moving over the bridge of his nose, mapping his features with her touch, as if memorizing every line, hoping to find her way back again, landing on his lips.
"Hmm," she hums, her brown eyes finding his blue in the dark, like a beacon beckoning her home. The same gaze she'd found earlier in that car trunk. Her name soft on his usually rough voice, but his hand steadying, comforting, wrapping her safely in his embrace. A feeling she only seems to find when he's around. The quiet comfort of his distraction, brooding into something of kindness, spilling over when he finds her nervous, tangling their emotions. Darkness having led them both to each other.
"Lucy," he breathes against her finger.
"Shh," she says with a laugh, motioning towards the direction of their sleeping roommate. "You'll wake him up."
"Too late," Rufus responds back, and Lucy's cheeks heat up again, burying her head in Wyatt's bare chest, sinking further under the sheet.
Wyatt's lips rest on top of her head, muffling his laughter in her hair.
"Uhh, sorry," he gets out, his hand pulling Lucy impossibly close.
"Is this happening?" Their friend asks, enthusiasm suggesting that he'd likely been awake since the opening of the door.
"No," Wyatt says with groan, no longer whispering "Just trying to sleep."
"Sure," Rufus says, all too unbelieving in their statement, before silence engulfs them all.
Lucy tucks her arms to where they're resting on Wyatt's chest along with her cheek, the warmth and steady beat of his heart lulling her into a state of exhaustion, causing a yawn to escape her.
"Sleep, Lucy," he sighs, his lips moving against the crown of her forehead.
"Wyatt," she incoherently murmurs into him, her eyelashes fluttering against his chest, causing an involuntary shiver to rattle against her cheek. "Don't leave," she sleepily pleads. The underlying fear eating away at her, keeping her up every night, staring into darkness. One by one, everyone she had cared about had disappeared from her life, time threatening to take him from her as well.
His fingers play against her back, warm pads tranquilly soothing her mind, until she finds herself safely falling into unconsciousness, only stirred awake briefly by the press of his lips against her forehead. Soft, gentle, a silent promise of his presence, unwilling to leave.
"I'm not going anywhere."
xxxxx
hello! as i wait for news about a season three (and the season two finale), i couldn't help but think of a happier time for these two. i'm not really sure what this is, just a thought that hit me as i was rewatching the darlington 500 at like three in the morning. i hope you enjoy, and please review!