The Human Pillow
Roderich had always been an expert at blocking things out - the light in the morning, people's conversations, or the television his boyfriend had turned up a few extra notches. It made it more intense, he had explained before. You could really get yourself in the middle of the action, he had said. Whatever the reason, Roderich was used to it. He just needed a good song, a really interesting idea, or, in this case, a very good book.
He had always wanted to read Treasure Island, but never seemed to have the time. There was work, household chores, and of course the speculation that he just might have a social life. Cold weather always seemed to draw him to the bookshelves, to bury himself in sweaters and blankets and get lost between the pages. Now that he was almost halfway through, he didn't want to much of anything else.
"Roddy, c'mere."
The plot was finally settling in place. Roderich wasn't sure why the child didn't realize the good man Silver was the seafaring man with one leg - he had all the descriptive elements. But then, Roderich supposed, there wouldn't have been much of a story. Just because the boy had been keeping an eye out for such a man for the first couple chapters didn't mean he could actually recognize him when the time came. Maybe he had built up a profile, one with a mean old rascal instead of this humble, happy fellow.
"Roddy, I'm serious. Roddy. Hey Roddy."
He lowered the open book to his chest, the plastic library cover crinkling as he did so. "What?!" he snapped.
Gilbert was looking at him upside down from the couch. "Come here," he said and reached out like a toddler, making grabby gestures with his hands.
Roderich just picked the book back up.
Gilbert groaned, but Roderich didn't look up until he was being pulled up. Blankets and all, Gilbert lifted him from the armchair and settled down in front of the television. Gilbert curled up around him like he sometimes did in bed, arms around his middle.
"I needed a human pillow," Gilbert mumbled into Roderich's shoulder.
Roderich looked at the screen. "World War Z. How romantic."
The other man chuckled and Roderich stared at the screen with disinterest. He wasn't really sure what was going on, why the characters were running around like that - other than the obvious reasons. He wasn't sure where this love of zombies stemmed from. Gilbert seemed to get really serious when it came to the topic, though, and Roderich often wondered if he hated zombies so much, why bother watching it? It only ever seemed to rile him up.
Ten minutes later and he really needed to move, to change positions or something. His arm was beginning to lose feeling. Soon it would be in pain. When he wriggled a bit, he was surprised to find that Gilbert wasn't resisting. His breathing was deep and even and his arms had lost tension - he was asleep. What had even been the point?
Roderich covered him with the blanket he had been using once he had slipped free, off the couch. Even the kiss to his white-blonde hair didn't rouse Gilbert from his dreams. And so Roderich got comfortable in the armchair again, ready to settle back into the long ago times of pirates and treasure.
