"Imagine your OTP making a giant nest of pillows and cuddling in it. Or having sex." and "Imagine your OTP trying to have sex while super drink and failing messily." Semi-inspired by listening to Assassin's Creed 2 soundtrack and This City Made Us by The Protomen.

–

The blankets lay overhead, hoisted up by various chairs and items they had dragged from other rooms, reaching all the way to the television. Underneath them are Feliks' seemingly millions of pillows, so they're not uncomfortable in the living room and outside of their impromptu fortress is the soft pitter-patter of the rain against the window and the quiet rolling thunder. This is Toris' favorite part of the modern day, and the only time where he doesn't feel so stuck in a prison of wrecked nerves and a boss who thinks of him more as a servant than his own person.

It had been Feliks' idea, to say the least, after stumbling home at a godawful time early in the morning, intoxicated from a night out. He'd offhandedly suggested it with a simple, "Wouldn't it be cool if we like, built a blanket fort and made out in it?" Toris only had reluctantly agreed, due to being drunk and tired.

They have to be to work in just a few hours, and it's against Toris' nature to show up still drunk and unprepared yet it's unlike Toris to call in and say he can't make it. Even when he's throwing up, near passing out sick, he still diligently arrives and protests when he's sent home. It's just not something he wants to do, being home and being sick has never gotten him anywhere before.

Somewhere between the buzz in his brain, and the rain outside that's working as a white noise, he hears Feliks speak. Toris looks over at home, brows furrowed.

"Huh?" It comes out quick, high pitched and slurred. He winces at the sound, and the TV hums with some black and white movie, and Toris is hit with some sort of nostalgia. Feliks rolls his green eyes, grins a little and sits up as best he can. Without warning, Feliks crawls on top of him, legs on either side and he leans down and their lips touch.

They kiss, and it's between sloppy and okay, with too much tongue and spit. It's almost like their first time again, where they awkwardly fumbled with each other. Feliks had put on a brave face while Toris was outwardly nervous and embarrassed, and it wasn't until they had actually gotten into the bed with Feliks started to become shy.

It hadn't lasted that long, as it never does with teenagers and it was an incredibly awful experience for both of them.

Just like their first time, they fumble with trying to get their clothes off. Unlike their first time—where they had been sober—they're drunk and it's hard to do such a thing in a small place. Finally, after somehow managing to successfully remove the others shirt, they give up and Feliks runs a finger over a scar on the left side of his chest. It goes far, past his rib cage.

They both know the origins of that scar, and it's the only scar that Toris still has a clear memory of. It had been painful, as it always is. Everything else, he's sure was from different battles, simple injuries from swords or guns that never quite healed. Maybe even accidents, he was a clumsy child after all. Clumsy, and always so nervous. Toris has always envied Feliks' ability to come off as cocky and confident.

Feliks isn't untouched, himself. Toris can name what many of those are from but Toris has a good memory of just about anything. Perhaps it was because he was the one that always patched Feliks up, dealing with the whining about the pain or being grossed out because Feliks thought the blood was so cool.

Feliks rests his head on Toris' chest and closes his eyes. "Your heart is beating fast."

Toris only mumbles incoherent words that aren't really words, just noises.

"We should just call our bosses and tell them we can't make it," Toris isn't sure what to say to that. He only half agrees, only because he feels a headache coming on and he's too tired to even move. "Like, missing one day won't hurt anything."

"I suppose."

Feliks doesn't say anything after that, and a deep breath tells Toris that he had fallen asleep. Toris wraps an arm around Feliks, and keeps his grip semi-loose as he listens to the television. It's more of a noise now, and the rain had calmed to a sprinkle and only in the distance, can he hear thunder still. He shifts a little, to reach into his pocket and tries not to wake Feliks up as he does so.

At first, he debates on texting his boss but decides that's too irresponsible and gives him a call. Of course, being too early in the morning for anyone to be making phone calls, Toris leaves a quick voice-mail and turns off his phone afterwards. Most certainly, his boss will call back or give Feliks a call, but he doesn't care right now. Toris isn't sure he wants to care anymore.