Midnight
12 a.m. sounded like serenity. The gentle whirr of the Great Fox's engine had become white noise, beating back the dead silence of space. Somewhere, it was midday, and the streets clamored with civilians about their day-to-day routines. Somewhere else, it was sunset, and lovers ate their dinners, basked in an array of endless colors. But on that quiet ship, it was midnight and all the lights had been turned off except for the emergency ones that lined the rugged corridors. It was a method to save power, Peppy had said awhile back. Used to, the Great Fox had always been brimming with pristine, artificial light. Now every other light was turned off always. It was the result of the bills that kept piling up—bills both inherited and earned.
His hand skimmed over the disjointed handrail that guided him down the stairs from the living quarters. Peppy had gone to bed earlier, cranky as could be. Slippy had retired as well, but the soft light emitting from beneath his door paired with the sounds of buttons clicking on a keyboard made Falco think the frog had merely decided to shirk being social in favor of gaming. Not that the avian blamed him; the lack of work as of late had made everyone moody, and that was putting it lightly. There were days even Falco did not feel like coming out of the confines of his room, but he stomached up the courage to anyways. It was not for his benefit that he did; it never was. Their money was in the red and their debts were growing. Anxiety was running rampant, infesting them one-by-one.
But they never talked about it.
Falco kept his footsteps as soft as he could manage. Ever since he was a child, he had battled insomnia. His childhood home, a cramped house that had held not only himself but also five younger siblings and a mother, had been nearly impossible to traverse without making some noise. Its creaky floor had trained the avian to know where to step as to not wake the others—a habit he had adopted and still performed without second thought even on the Great Fox.
He made it to the lounge, eyes resting upon the kitchen area. White light on the counters were the only thing that guided him to the fridge. In the quiet of midnight, the sound of the door opening echoed. He dug his heels into the tile of the floor to steady himself. Falco went to grab a soda from the fridge, but something caught his eye. There was movement on the sofa, stirring under the sound of papers flapping as they drifted in the air.
"Mmmhmammm…" a noise drifted from the couch area—a noise that the avian recognized instantly. As quietly as he could, Falco shut the fridge door and walked over to the couch.
Fox McCloud sat asleep on the floor, his back against the sofa. The padding of the sofa cradled his head; his neck craned all the way back. Snout pointed to the ceiling, his soft breath drifted upwards in tandem with the rise and fall of his chest. Covered in nothing but an olive-toned tank top and jeans, he gave a slight shiver, russet fur prickling. Loose papers scattered about him. Some still lay in his lap, weighted down and creased by his hands tucked onto his stomach. A few locks of his creamy-colored fringe fell across his snout. The tips of his fangs glistened in the dim lighting with each gradual inhale.
The smile that drew across Falco's beak was indomitable; he could not have willed it away even if he wanted to. Sapphire eyes skipping down Fox's torso to the papers, the avian stooped down to seize one of the papers, turning it over in his hands. When he realized what he was looking at, his heart panged with sorrow.
Bills. Geez, he fell asleep looking over all the bills.
A gander at the number at the bottom of the due bill made his stomach lurch. With a grimace, he sat the paper to the side. Kneeling down, he began to stack the papers up, plucking them one after the other from the vulpine's sleeping body. Careful to put them in a neat pile, the avian cast a glance at Fox. His heart buzzed, a his cheeks warming and the back of his nape tingling. Falco looked away, scared that Fox would wake up to see the stupid smile that he could not suppress. He had never been good at talking about his feelings, even the positive ones.
Once the papers were stacked away from the snoozing Fox, the avian stood over the vulpine. He thought to grab a pillow from the couch to cushion Fox's head, but from the way he was laying, Falco was not sure if that was even a good idea. With a frown, the avian glanced around the empty lounge—not even a blanket in sight to drape over him to stave off the cold.
Never mind that. He's gonna kill his neck at this rate. Guess I better get him to bed…
He knelt next to the tawny vulpine, one of his indigo arms lacing under Fox's back. His other arm found the crook of Fox's knee. Pushing up with his long legs, Falco lifted Fox from his unconventional sleeping location. Silently, the avian regretted his neglect of utilizing the Great Fox's lifting room. Regardless, Falco held Fox in his arms for a few long moments, his sapphire eyes running over Fox's tired body. The area around the vulpine's eyes had sunken in with lack of sleep—a trait that the avian had noticed over the last few weeks.
You idiot. What are we gonna do if you wear yourself out?
He could not maintain his soft footsteps this time, not when the bulk of his concentration was carrying Fox to the stairs leading into the dormitory area. Each creak of the floor panels felt like a betrayal of everything Falco knew. Their shrill tones shot up his spine. His nerves clanged against each other like dishes in a dishwasher, a cacophony of sensations overwhelming him.
Yet, despite that, everything stilled when he looked down at Fox. The serenity of sleep that passed over Fox's face almost made Falco forget the bills—the absurd numbers, the way the panels of the Great Fox seemed to be coming undone, the silent anxiety that ran rampant aboard the mothership. His breath was a fluid rhythm, a tempo for a lullaby. Falco worried he would disturb his slumber as he began the gradual ascent up the stairs. A sharp inhale from Fox alerted the avian and he paused his progression upwards to ensure the vulpine was okay.
"Mmmm… Falco…?" Fox asked sleepily, slivers of his verdant eyes opening.
"Heya Foxy," Falco replied with a small chuckle.
"Mmm what time's it?" Fox asked.
"A little after midnight," Falco answered. "Found you sacked out in front of the couch."
"Mmm?" Fox asked, eyes fluttering open and closed—poor guy, he was trying his hardest to wake up but his exhaustion would not permit it.
"Don't worry, I got ya," Falco smiled at him.
They fell back into silence. Once Falco reached the top of the stairs, he made his way to Fox's room—the first on the left. Opening the door took some talent and effort, but after a few attempts, it slid open for them. Falco placed Fox into his unmade bed, pulling his sheets out from beneath him and draping them over the tawny vulpine. Fox's nose snuggled into his pillow, breathing in its scent. A small smile formed on his mouth, even in his half-awake state. Falco smirked at him, tucking the sheets in around him.
"Sweet dreams," Falco said gently to the sleepy Fox. He began to turn away when something lazily snagged his wrist. With raised brows, he looked over his shoulder at where Fox peered up with squinting, tired eyes.
"Stay?"
It sounded somewhere between a plea and a request. And though Falco could not have said that he was tired at all, he knew there was no way he could say no. Not to that tired face. Not to those tired eyes, fringed with sleepy tears.
"Sure thing," Falco replied and Fox pulled him towards the bed with his last remaining energy. Falco stripped off his jacket, tossing it onto the floor. The door automatically shut, darkness swallowing them whole. Fox tugged on Falco's shirt, pulling him closer to him as the avian slipped under the covers.
Fox's body felt cold and it was evident in the way that he snuggled next to Falco that he felt the cold. Falco wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. The cold of Fox's fur was not entirely pleasant to snuggle at first but the longer their bodies snuggled, the more heat they generated. Soon enough, the cold had been banished and they lay together, wrapped in a cocoon of cloth and warmth. Fox buried his face into the indigo feathers of Falco's chest. Falco rested his cheek on the top of Fox's head.
Sleep found Fox after a few minutes and Falco stifled a bitter chuckle of jealousy. He closed his eyes, feeling the way Fox breathed and syncing his breath to it. The door blocked the sound of the engines. It was still in the darkness they shared. Fox's fur tickled against his feathers delicately. Their warmth radiated, soothing the avian until he felt his own tensions slip away into the blissful quiet. It was not long before he realized he, too, was drifting. Lulled by the softness of the sheets they lay on and the heat from Fox's body, Falco allowed himself to let the current of slumber ensnare him. He drifted off next to Fox, carefree.
In that moment, there was no world outside of the bedroom. There were no bills to pay. There was no anxiety. They were the only ones that existed in that midnight universe and Falco wished they could have stayed there forever.