A/N: Hi! I'm a sap!
Somethin' Stupid
Badd wakes up with a panicked start to someone crawling onto his mattress from the bottom.
It's probably just Zenko, he realizes, climbing in for comfort after a nightmare, and calms his hammering heart –
Only for it to pick right back up again and send him to full alert mode when he sees that the lump sneaking along under his blankets is way too big to be Zenko-sized.
Scrambling, he starts to reach for the bat resting at his bedside, and even gets as far as having it poised to whack the intruder into oblivion before he realizes that – although not Zenko-shaped – he does, in fact, recognize this lump after all.
Said lump settles somewhere around his middle, stopping to curl in on itself. Boney knees bump into Badd's hip, and he can feel fluffy hair brushing his arm under the covers.
"What the hell, Garou?!"
It's funny how familiar that greeting tastes on his tongue by now. And by funny, Badd means that it's obnoxious as fuck that he has to ask this so often. Tonight is the most bizarre intrusion by far, though; Garou's lucky Badd didn't smash his skull in out of pure reflex.
When there's no smart reply from Garou – no witty, infuriating response that leaves Badd with more frustrations than answers – Badd snatches up the covers, peering under them with an accusing glare. He keeps his bat raised menacingly, even if it's mostly for show by now.
Garou, though, remains silent and mostly still. His shoulders might twitch in a sorry excuse for a shrug, but it's too dark to really tell. Point is, he damn near doesn't respond. At all.
That's…not right.
Tipping his raised hand, Badd lets the bat fall back into its hiding place alongside his bed. It's no fun threatening Garou if he's just gonna lay there and take it without even watching.
Poking Garou's shoulder also fails to garner any response, as does nudging him with a knee.
At this point, Badd figures he might as well try another question. "What's up with you?"
He's met with nothing yet again. If he really strains his eyes, he can maybe see Garou's back expanding with a sigh, but that's about it. Fine then.
Badd rolls onto his side, putting a bit of distance between him and Garou while still facing him. It's easier to ram his knee into Garou's leg like this, so of course he does, with more force than before, and is actually rewarded with a muffled grunt this time.
"Don't you," Badd imitates the irritated sound, with maybe a slight exaggeration, "me. What're ya doin' here?"
But Garou's back to his silent treatment as he curls in tighter and closer. His forehead thunks against Badd's chest with something that might be purpose – like the world's most pathetic head-butt.
"Fine," Badd grumbles, "don't explain, then." Not like he cares why Garou's huddled up quiet in bed with him in the wee hours of the morning, anyway. He's probably just trying to leech warmth as usual. Badd should shove him out. Stop asking questions. Yeah.
…Never mind how his fingers twitch with the stupid desire to do the opposite. To tip Garou's face back, look him in the eye, and seek answers. Badd shoves that urge right off a cliff.
More importantly: "I didn't even hear ya come in. That's dangerous, I keep telling you to –"
"I relocked the window," Garou mumbles at last.
And ah, shit, his voice sounds unusually small.
All thoughts of literally kicking him out of the bed for this intrusion drop away; they're thoroughly ruined by how off-character Garou's acting. Usually, even when still and quiet Garou has a certain…energy to him, like he's ready to spring into action whenever. Even that bare minimum is missing tonight, leaving him too-still and too-quiet in a way that's altogether unsettling.
And Badd is…at a loss. All he can think to do is poke Garou's shoulder again, one hand still busy propping the covers. "Thank goodness you're the only thing that snuck in here, then," he jibes, trying for normalcy –
– Which turns out to be a stone cold failure. There's no more response from Garou – in fact, his shoulders actually tense at that. Whoops.
Badd realizes he's chewing his bottom lip, and lets it pop free. Just because he might possibly be worried about Garou doesn't mean he has to let him know that. He pokes Garou one more time. "Hey."
No response.
Some weird comforting instinct kicks in out of nowhere and softens Badd's voice to a whisper. "Hey – you okay?"
Argh. What gave Garou the right to crawl in here and activate Badd's gentle caretaker side? It's too late at night for this shit. Badd's biting his tongue, trying not to ask if he's okay again in the space it takes Garou to decide if he wants to answer.
And, lo and behold, Garou does answer, if only barely. His head makes some kind of indiscernible aborted movement against Badd's chest, maybe a nod or a shake, or it could be some kind of weird mix of the two?
Badd sighs, slow and deep and longsuffering (because boy is his suffering long). His fingers are flexing against his will, this time with a need to pull Garou in close.
Hah – not happening.
"Gonna stay here all night?" Badd asks instead of giving in to his overactive hands.
A huff of air from Garou is the second most verbal reply he's made so far, and wow, that sure is descriptive. Thank you for your avid participation in this conversation, Garou, it's all been so very insightful, your honesty in these matters is ever-appreciated and helpful beyond belief….
Stupid Garou. Badd's eyebrows scrunch in on the closest thing to a scowl he can muster right now. That huff of air, he assumes, is a 'yes'. If only because Garou sure doesn't seem to plan on moving anytime soon.
Or maybe – Badd's heart stumbles in his chest and sends an uncomfortable emotion squirming in his gut – Garou can't move? Either from exhaustion, or injury.
This time, Badd gives his hands what they want while ignoring his feelings. That's a familiar enough strategy for dealing with Garou, right? He can handle this much.
Anyway, it's dark in here, and Garou probably won't be coaxed out of bed for any kind of proper examination – nor does Badd really want to try doing so, because, hey, he's comfortable, too, aaand again he can't exactly let Garou see his concern. So: hands it is, if he wants to double check Garou's well-being.
Ducking under the blanket shuts out any moonlight, sure, but it does give Badd one more hand to inspect Garou with, so it's fine.
He starts his work at Garou's head – all of that fluffy hair can be deceptively soft and white, too good at hiding bloodied gashes and bruising goose eggs alike. As such, Badd runs his fingers through it carefully, making sure to rub gentle over his scalp. Nothing.
From there Badd slips his hands down the back of Garou's slender neck, but all he finds there is a shiver that works its way up Garou's spine. No damage to speak of here, either, Badd lets his palms wander over strong shoulders (no injuries), firm back muscles (not even a wince from a bruise), and then around to a chiseled chest (in tiptop shape).
Somehow, Garou is even more still than he was before. Badd's mind might be bogged down with sleep and concern, but he still has enough room in his chest for something like nerves to rattle around. He stays on task, though, focusing as much attentiveness into his hands and away from his thoughts as he can. Garou's arms are fine, but Badd'll have to scoot down to get to the rest of him….
Just as he starts moving, Garou does, too, shifting around – not toward the touch, but not away from it either. "What're you doing?" he mumbles, voice softer than usual (but at least he's talking; that stony silence was unnerving).
Badd gives him a short sigh, actively fighting against the heat rising to his face. It should be obvious what he's doing, but he tells Garou anyway while checking for broken ribs. "Makin' sure you aren't hurt."
Long fingers push at Badd's hands, prying them away. "M'fine," Garou grunts. His hands linger on Badd's a split-second too long before leaving them to drop somewhere between their bodies, and Badd struggles not to read into that in any way.
Not at all trusting that response, Badd moves farther down the bed until his head is just about level with Garou's. "Like you'd tell me if ya weren't."
But a careful examination confirms that there's no blood leaking out of Garou's abdomen, and no sore spots on his legs. The most he has wrong is a stiff thigh muscle, which Badd thoughtlessly kneads with his fingers.
A near imperceptible sound sneaks out of Garou's throat. Quieter than a breath, he mutters something that sounds an awful lot like, "I promise."
Badd stops his hand atop Garou's thigh, the other paused in the bend of his knee. "Hah?" He's gotta be hearing things. There's no way that Garou said what Badd thinks he just heard.
"I said," Garou, still curled up tight, jerks his leg to kick at Badd in a move that almost dislodges the hands cradling his thigh, "that I promise I'm not hurt."
Now it's Badd's turn to freeze.
Garou…promises?
The possibility that he could be lying is real, of course, and one that Badd is unfortunately familiar with. But he can't deny that Garou is different tonight. His words couple with the forlorn shape of his body to send sympathy churning in Badd's stomach, even as that leg succeeds in shaking off his hands.
He can't push Garou for answers now. It's getting awfully stuffy under this blanket, and Badd doesn't know what to do with his unoccupied hands, twisting them together for lack of anything more useful. "You're sure?"
Garou nods, his forehead nearly cracking against Badd's. In the dark, his golden eyes still have a certain shine to them – but even that is dull.
"I swear to fuck." Badd wrenches his hands apart, yanking the comforter off of both of their heads and letting in a rush of cool air. The moonlight that floods Garou's face doesn't do anything to bring light back to his eyes, and Badd hates the way his own breath hitches at that. "If you're lying –"
Groaning, Garou tips in and tucks his head under Badd's chin. "I just need somewhere to sleep," he grumbles, so low that Badd has trouble deciphering the words at first.
…It also doesn't help that he's laying here stunned, with Garou's icy nose pressed to his throat, pale eyelashes tickling his skin.
Sure, alright, fine.
Make yourself even more at home, Garou.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Badd forces himself to breathe, because he isn't about to deny the proximity. Even if he's so low on the mattress that his pillow is a distant memory and his feet almost dangle over the end. Bending his knees some fixes that, at least. And grabbing for his pillow isn't hard.
Garou's hands cling at the front of Badd's t-shirt. His body feels so damn tense, and Badd struggles between wanting to check Garou's eyes again and wanting to keep him close and safe.
It's gross. What does Garou need protection from? Why does…why does Badd care about the way he….
Ack – fuck it. The denial game isn't fun this late at night with Garou feeling so dismal. Badd's going to stop overthinking every move and just do what comes naturally, which right now is wrapping an arm around Garou and hugging him into his chest.
That is, apparently, all the confirmation that Garou is looking for. A sigh puffs out of his nose, cool against Badd's skin, and his back muscles slowly start to relax, tension leaking from them. Every noodle-like limb winds around Badd's body, cold hands finding their way up the back of his t-shirt, long legs entwining with his own – a little awkward, what with how they're both scrunched towards the bottom of the bed, but hey.
The nose at Badd's throat is warmer, now.
Turning and tipping his head a bit, Badd bumps his lips into Garou's forehead in what might pass for a kiss, depending on who you ask.
"Yer a pain," he mumbles. It comes out sounding much more affectionate than he meant it to, especially because he says it while slipping his other arm beneath Garou to squeeze him properly in a hug. Hah. That'll show him….
Garou grunts out a, "Shut up," his words already slow and half-slurred by sleep.
A/N: This was...admittedly self-indulgent ahaha. I have feelings and I missed these two, um, so, here's this,
Happy season 2 and animated fight scene everyone :'D
Thanks for reading!