Author's Notes:
Slightly spring-boarding this little drabble-thing from my earlier fic "Why Not Me?" (blatant plug, much?) while at the same time being another one from my 50 theme Gwevin drabble challenge.

--

Waiting

"I'm so much closer than
I have ever known..."

--

Kevin was uncomfortable.

It had nothing to do with the way the cold bit at his fingers and extremities, nor with the dank air that smelled of crusting blood and impending doom, nor with the darkness what few lights that hadn't long burned out desperately fought a losing battle with.

It also had nothing to do with how the holding cell he had been shoved in wasn't designed to detain someone with his hulking frame. He was used to crouching low to keep his head from banging against the ceiling and having his petrosapien and pyronite arms scrape against something each time he shifted his weight. He didn't enjoy contorting his body in order to fit the small enclosure. It annoyed him, irritated him, but it was nothing he couldn't easily remedy by making a few blows against the walls.

Normally by this time, unless he had some sort of restraint on him, Kevin would have already gone through several attempts of breaking out.

But the mutant hadn't so much as moved from where he sat with his back against cold metal and his feet stretched out before him. With his size and the limited space, Kevin really couldn't maneuver himself well enough to do much of anything.

At least not without waking the source of his discomfort.

He looked down with mismatched eyes at the small, slender girl curled up against his massive chest. His vulpamancer arms cradled her protectively, the sensitive quills quivering in time to the steady rhythm of her breathing. The pair had gone down fighting, with Gwen exhausting most of her magical energy with spells that were by far the most taxing ones she had cast to date.

The fatigue was evident from the way she was so still when she slept, like one dead to the world, completely unaware of the dangers awaiting them upon their waking.

The sleep of the Innocent or the sleep of the Just? Kevin couldn't tell, he doesn't remember how long it's been since he experienced either. Whichever it was, he found himself mildly jealous that such a peaceful slumber could come so naturally for her while it forever eluded him.

It always has.

Nothing about the ten-year-old girl made sense to the eleven-year-old boy.

He wondered how someone like Gwen could bring herself to lower her guard around someone like him. He wondered how she could stare up at him with such clear, bright eyes and why they shone with trust and compassion rather than fear and contempt. He wondered how she could look at him and make him feel normal. He wondered over how she could stand her ground and talk back to him when he was being irrational and petty despite the danger that he could snap her in half anytime he wanted.

Which he didn't.

And it was the lack of answers, the absence of an explanation that gnawed at Kevin and made him skittish and restless and eager for Gwen to wake up so he could... what? Ask her?

No, he couldn't -wouldn't- do that! No, Kevin Levin didn't need someone younger than him (and a girl at that) telling him why he had all these things running around his head and driving him crazy. Or crazier than he already was.

His current state of mental distress was probably caused by being imprisoned. Yes, that was it, exactly! And he did want Gwen to wake up so that they could finally discuss their plan on how they were going to get out of this hellhole.

For a brief moment he thought of rousing her until he felt her bury her face against his torso, heard her sigh in content and warmth. Kevin decided against disturbing the upward curve of her lips and having her pull away just so she could gather her bearings and think.

He was afraid that she'd wake up.

Not from her sleep, but from whatever state of mind she had been in all this time. He was afraid that she would come to her senses and realize she was making a mistake in trusting him, caring for him, caring about him.

That he'd be alone again.

No, he's not going to let that happen. Not after knowing what it was like to have someone look out for him, someone who made him feel safe and normal. He wasn't going to let her go, she was his damn it! And he thinks, with a bitter snarl simmering in the back of his throat, that he would rather go through a hundred, a thousand more mutations than lose her.

But the fear that he was just delaying the inevitable gnawed at him from the back of his mind.

So he'll wait when that moment comes, then he'll use threats, deceits and whatever else he has at his disposal to convince her otherwise. With that plan in his head, Kevin found himself slowly drifting off to sleep.

--

"Don't let it catch you falling,
Ready or not at all..."

--

Gwen was comfortable.

It had nothing to do with how fatigue and exhaustion were slowly draining from her body as she slept. Certainly it was a wonderful sensation that left her feeling light, as if a heavy shackled had been lifted from her limbs, but she had felt this many times before back when she was travelling the country and fighting alien monsters back home on Earth.

It also had nothing to do with the soothing, healing dream she was having at that precise moment. The dream was always a pleasant one, full of warm splashes colors with a soft melody playing and the air was sweet and heady. But it lacked tangibility, there was nothing solid, no specific forms or lines and nothing she could take comfort in knowing what it was exactly. The dream was actually very reminiscent of an abstract piece she had seen in an art gallery during a summer that felt so long ago. But she was accustomed to the lack of foundation and logic, spending several months with her cousin in close quarters had increased her tolerance for the inexplicable and the nonsensical. Or she was simply very mature for her age.

With her strength returning and the weariness ebbing away, her lids slowly rose. Instinctively she tensed at the darkness of her surroundings. But she settled down at the sensation of fur on her arms and a muscled chest against her cheek. Rubbing the vestiges of sleep from her eyes, Gwen studied her situation.

She frowned, noting the severe lack of space and how difficult this holding cell must be for the reason of her comfort. She hears the air from the grills on his cheeks push out, feels his breath against her face and she looks up to find all three of his eyes were closed. It does not escape her that despite falling asleep, Kevin still managed to hold her so gently in his arms.

Gwen makes no motion to leave his embrace, not because of the biting cold of the prison block, nor of the ominous whispers and moans. In all honesty it's from the sense of security she felt from having such powerful arms holding her with a tenderness they didn't seem capable of. Along with the familiarity that reminds her of home and normalcy, even if no one would believe the latter.

But she reasons it's because she doesn't want to wake him, Kevin had put up an amazing fight when they had been attacked and captured. She had seen him take out so many drones before exhaustion scooped her up into its jaws and swallowed her whole. She tells herself that he deserves whatever peace and quiet he could get and that Kevin needs to be able to rest without fear or apprehension.

And she believes this because she knows it to be true.

Kevin was always so quick to wake and get to his feet in case of another attack. He was so hostile, so swift to throw the first punch, it made sense why he would be reluctant to lower his guard and just sleep. It surprised her that she hadn't disturbed him, maybe he was more tired than he let her know. She wouldn't put it past him.

Gwen never thought Kevin trusted her, at least not the way she had been willing to trust him. It disturbed her, knowing someone who was just a year older than her could be as cynical and as full of hate as he was. And it upset her that he couldn't see himself past the monstrous shell he was in even if she could.

He had been gentle with her, protective of her, careful of his actions, his words and attitude were another matter but he wouldn't be Kevin otherwise. He had been the only one to take her seriously and not see her as just excess baggage. He showed her he was capable of so much good but he seemed blind to the possibilities.

And she wondered how she was going to make it known, make him see, make him aware. He was stubborn and full of pride and was very much like all the other boys on the inside. He seems to have forgotten that part of himself, favoring the mindless damage and brute force his new body was more than gifted with.

She needed to get him away from all the dangerous aliens, distance him from the interstellar threats. She needed him to wake up so they could come up with a method of getting out. But she decides against that when she hears him bite back a whimper, feels him shudder from a nightmare. She whispers a spell beneath her breath and a soothing blue light drifts from the tip of her fingers to rest against Kevin's forehead.

Gwen watched as the ridges where brows should have been smoothened out and the rest of Kevin's features resembled a serene calm. And she gives a sigh of relief because she was afraid.

Afraid that this time, he'll let the madness eating away at him win. That he'll surrender his humanity to fully become the beast he was on the outside. That there would be no way for her to save him from himself.

That she'll have failed him because she wasn't strong enough.

No, she's not going to let that happen. Not after everything they've been through, not after all he had done for her. And she thinks, with an angry hiss bubbling in the back of her throat, that she would rather let herself be alien food than lose him.

The fear that she was just delaying the inevitable never crossed her mind and she settled herself back in his arms. Right now, she was content to wait for Kevin to regain his strength while she formulated their escape plan.

--

Additional Information:
Song lyrics are from the song "Waiting" by Greenday