Fandom: Bones
Pairing:Wendell Bray/Vincent Nigel-Murray
Summary: You know those moments when you jerk awake just as you fall asleep? Yeah, a you from a different reality just died.

It was a startled yelp and Vincent jolting in his arms that woke Wendell up. He opened his mouth to growl at the darkhaired Englishman; the blonde had worked longer than usual, and he did not appreciate being woken up after only two hours of sleep. Then he caught sight of his smaller bed partner in the early morning light that was just beginning to filter into their crappy shared apartment.

Vincent's skin was far paler than normal, and he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Under his tousled fringe, his pretty blue eyes were wide an frightened and he was breathing so rapid and erratically than Wendell's sleep addled brain jumped first to sex, then to strangulation, and finally to hyperventilation. His harsh reprimand died in his throat.

"Vinnie," he croaked instead, his voice thick with sleep, as he moved his arm from where it was slung low and protective around Vincent's waist to scrub at his eyes. "What's wrong?" He blinked slowly, and took a closer look at the man in his arms. "Whoa, Vin, are you crying?"

Vincent was staring blankly ahead into Wendell's side with silent tears slowly tracking down his cheeks as he balled his hands into the button-up shirt Wendell hadn't bothered to take off before collapsing into bed. Wendell suddenly found himself in a display of a rather uncharacteristic amount of tender affection and worry as he wrapped Vincent up in his arms and brought him in as close as possible while he cried.

Gradually, Vincent began to calm down, and Wendell began to crave a toothpick to chew on as he waited semi-patiently for the Brit to begin talking.

"Do you remember those weird dreams I kept having that I was convinced were glimpses into another reality?" Vincent asked him eventually, curled into Wendell's side and completely cried out.

Wendell nodded and unconsciously began to stroke Vincent's hair softly. "The ones were everyone from The Lab were all scientists who worked with dead bodies to solve murders and Mr B was and FBI agent who helped them?"

Vincent stared up at The Lab's doorman, absently picking at a button on his shirt. "They say that when you jerk awake before you fall asleep, a you in a different reality just died."

The blonde shook his head. "I don't get it."

"He got shot by a sniper," Vincent said as if that were an explanation, burying his face in Wendell's shoulder.

"What? Vinnie, you're babbling again. Who got shot?"

Vincent wrinkled his nose, his forehead crinkling slightly. "Scientist-me. He got shot dead by a sniper who was aiming for FBI-Mr B."

Wendell chuckled in spite of himself and readjusted the duvet around the DJ's bony shoulders as he shivered in the morning chill. "Then it was definitely a dream, Vin. Snipers never miss."

Vincent sniffled in indigence and curled closer to Wendell. "Don't mock me, I'm traumatised."

Closing his eyes again, Wendell rested his chin on top of Vincent's head. "Shut up and go to sleep," he muttered. "I promised Sweets to go in early and help him bring in the new barrels of beer." The pair was silent for a moment, then Wendell sighed and opened his eyes, nudging the man with his nose. "Why were you crying, Vinnie? You don't cry much."

Vincent gave a tiny shrug in Wendell's arms. "He didn't want to die. Scientist-me. He didn't want to leave his little world of facts and knowledge and go into the unknown. He wanted to stay and…and tell Scientist-you how he felt about him."

A bit stunned, Wendell cut him off with a kiss that surprised them both, then laid his cheek on Vincent's head. "Go to sleep."

Later that morning, once they were awake and dressing to meet Fisher for breakfast, Wendell kissed Vincent again as he set that silly hat atop the Englishman's head. "If Scientist-you told Scientist-me how he felt, Scientist me would have said yes."

"How do you know?" Vincent asked a little shrewdly, sticking a toothpick into the corner of Wendell's mouth.

The blonde waggled it at him with his tongue. "Well, Doorman-me loves DJ-you, even if you are prone to melodrama; why should it be different if we were a hundred IQ points higher?"

Vincent gave him that sweet, crooked half-smile and walked out the door to hide his blush.

"But that doesn't matter," Wendell called after him, straightening his tie. "Scientist-you is just a dream!"