Mad: Connection
Jan. 19th, 2010 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spongetastic“A good friend is a connection to life, a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.” --Lois Wyse
For maybe the hundredth time that night, Peter’s eyes cracked open. He battled insomnia a lot for a variety of different reasons throughout the years. In this particular instance it was because he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. There was nothing about the room or the bed preventing him from sleep: both were very comfortable. The truth was things felt too… open to Peter. He could sprawl out spread-eagle on his bed no problem, or lift his arms straight up and wave them around. Peter expected some kind of boundary to close him in and without it things were just… off.
Peter let out a sigh and restlessly turned on his other side. He gave a small jerk of surprise seeing that side of the bed empty. That was clearly another reason why he couldn’t sleep: his bedmate was gone. A wave of panic washed up on the empath. In a moment Peter was on his feet padding quietly through the apartment. He was scared, praying that his friend hadn’t been taken back to that place.
After searching all of the other rooms Peter peeked into the bathroom. There he found Desmond Molloy curled up inside the tub. Peter let out a sigh of relief. Like Peter, Desmond was wearing a T-shirt and sweats for his sleeping attire. Desmond looked peaceful and Peter felt a warmth filling his heart watching the other man sleep.
He hadn’t known Desmond for very long. They met when they were evacuated out of the Dollhouse with the other Actives, and for whatever reason were drawn to one another. Peter could feel a connection between them but couldn’t grasp what it was. All he knew was that he felt safer when he was with Desmond and sleep came easily when they were curled up in each other’s arms.
With that in mind Peter shifted his leg over the side of the tub and tried to slide in without disturbing his friend. The tub closed them in perfectly and Peter felt much more relaxed. The feeling was still too far up for his taste but he’d be okay now that he was back with Desmond. He shifted, pressing his back against the other man’s and moving an arm around Desmond’s middle to hold him close.
“Peter?” Desmond stirred, turning to look at the other.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Peter murmured sheepishly. “I woke up and you were gone, and I thought…” He trailed off, the worry in his tone enough to tell Desmond the rest.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Desmond told him. “It was too open.” Peter nodded in agreement. Silently he reached down and twined their fingers together. Slowly they moved closer until their lips connected in a soft kiss. Peter squeezed the other man’s hand tightly.
“The roof is too high,” Peter complained. “I’m going to find something to put over this.” A sheet, perhaps, that could drape over the tub. It could be like their own private fort… The idea seemed vaguely familiar to Peter but it was one of those things he couldn’t completely grasp.
“Not tonight,” Desmond said, gripping Peter’s hand tighter.
“No,” Peter agreed. “Not tonight.” He squeezed back, his head finding a comfortable place in the crook of Desmond’s neck to rest. He closed his eyes and this time they didn’t open again.
For maybe the hundredth time that night, Peter’s eyes cracked open. He battled insomnia a lot for a variety of different reasons throughout the years. In this particular instance it was because he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. There was nothing about the room or the bed preventing him from sleep: both were very comfortable. The truth was things felt too… open to Peter. He could sprawl out spread-eagle on his bed no problem, or lift his arms straight up and wave them around. Peter expected some kind of boundary to close him in and without it things were just… off.
Peter let out a sigh and restlessly turned on his other side. He gave a small jerk of surprise seeing that side of the bed empty. That was clearly another reason why he couldn’t sleep: his bedmate was gone. A wave of panic washed up on the empath. In a moment Peter was on his feet padding quietly through the apartment. He was scared, praying that his friend hadn’t been taken back to that place.
After searching all of the other rooms Peter peeked into the bathroom. There he found Desmond Molloy curled up inside the tub. Peter let out a sigh of relief. Like Peter, Desmond was wearing a T-shirt and sweats for his sleeping attire. Desmond looked peaceful and Peter felt a warmth filling his heart watching the other man sleep.
He hadn’t known Desmond for very long. They met when they were evacuated out of the Dollhouse with the other Actives, and for whatever reason were drawn to one another. Peter could feel a connection between them but couldn’t grasp what it was. All he knew was that he felt safer when he was with Desmond and sleep came easily when they were curled up in each other’s arms.
With that in mind Peter shifted his leg over the side of the tub and tried to slide in without disturbing his friend. The tub closed them in perfectly and Peter felt much more relaxed. The feeling was still too far up for his taste but he’d be okay now that he was back with Desmond. He shifted, pressing his back against the other man’s and moving an arm around Desmond’s middle to hold him close.
“Peter?” Desmond stirred, turning to look at the other.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Peter murmured sheepishly. “I woke up and you were gone, and I thought…” He trailed off, the worry in his tone enough to tell Desmond the rest.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Desmond told him. “It was too open.” Peter nodded in agreement. Silently he reached down and twined their fingers together. Slowly they moved closer until their lips connected in a soft kiss. Peter squeezed the other man’s hand tightly.
“The roof is too high,” Peter complained. “I’m going to find something to put over this.” A sheet, perhaps, that could drape over the tub. It could be like their own private fort… The idea seemed vaguely familiar to Peter but it was one of those things he couldn’t completely grasp.
“Not tonight,” Desmond said, gripping Peter’s hand tighter.
“No,” Peter agreed. “Not tonight.” He squeezed back, his head finding a comfortable place in the crook of Desmond’s neck to rest. He closed his eyes and this time they didn’t open again.