New Ficlet: Lacus Somniorum
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... cradle-song gave me the following fic prompt: Nik, Sergei, Vybes h/c. So here, have a ficlet. (Sorry it took so long, but I've been in a serious writing funk lately.)
Also, I wish I could find the Hockey News quote that spawned the premise. It's killing me that I can't. *mourn*
Title: Lacus Somniorum
Pairing: Nikolai Zherdev/Sergei Fedorov/David Vyborny, Vybes' POV (Jackets hockey)
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Not beta'ed, but I think it's pretty clean. Any mistakes and general sucktitude are all on me. I fully apologize for the title in all its Latiny pretentiousness.
Disclaimer: This probably never happened, at least, not exactly like this. Also, I don't own them, I just like to play with them.
Feedback: Will be loved like a wicked one-timer.
One thing I learned early on is that Nikolai can sleep through anything.
Slamming doors, car alarms on the street, even braying alarm clocks; nothing wakes him. It's frustrating at times, especially in the mornings when we have to drag him out of bed and pull him out the door to practice. At other times though, it's a blessing.
Nikolai doesn't know about the nightmares, and he's never said as much, but I know that Sergei would rather he never find out about them.
Each time, Sergei will wake with a start and a strangled gasp, clutching at the sheets. He's never told me the details of his dream, just that it's nearly the same each time. He's described the terror he feels when he wakes, and having felt the way his heart pounds against his ribs each time, I don't doubt what he's told me for a second. He revealed that he wakes thinking there's another person in the room with us; someone else lurking in its darkest corners.
Each time, he pulls himself out of bed and investigates the room. I lie there and watch him running one hand along the wall until he reaches the edge, then along the next wall, assuring himself that no one is there. Finding nothing, he proceeds to check the rest of the house until he's looked in every room, every corner.
I had found him in one of the guest bedrooms that first time, turning wide and frightened eyes to me when I'd placed my hand on his back. I'd tried to coax him back to bed. I had tried to assure him that no one was there, that he was safe with us, but he wouldn't come until he'd completed his search.
Tonight is no different except I don't go after him anymore. Instead, I lie on my side watching Nikolai sleep and listen to Sergei's footsteps as he shuffles down the hall.
After some time, he finally comes to bed. He slides between us, pressing his face to the back of Nikolai's neck. He clings to him briefly before throwing an arm back and over my side, trying to pull me even closer to them. His fingers flex along my hip and at his urging, I move closer. I press myself along his body, mirroring the way he's molded himself to Nikolai's frame.
I slide my arm around Sergei's waist, rubbing slow circles against his stomach and I wait for his breathing to even out. Gradually, it does, and when I'm sure he's slipped back into sleep, I allow myself to follow him.
Also, I wish I could find the Hockey News quote that spawned the premise. It's killing me that I can't. *mourn*
Title: Lacus Somniorum
Pairing: Nikolai Zherdev/Sergei Fedorov/David Vyborny, Vybes' POV (Jackets hockey)
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Not beta'ed, but I think it's pretty clean. Any mistakes and general sucktitude are all on me. I fully apologize for the title in all its Latiny pretentiousness.
Disclaimer: This probably never happened, at least, not exactly like this. Also, I don't own them, I just like to play with them.
Feedback: Will be loved like a wicked one-timer.
One thing I learned early on is that Nikolai can sleep through anything.
Slamming doors, car alarms on the street, even braying alarm clocks; nothing wakes him. It's frustrating at times, especially in the mornings when we have to drag him out of bed and pull him out the door to practice. At other times though, it's a blessing.
Nikolai doesn't know about the nightmares, and he's never said as much, but I know that Sergei would rather he never find out about them.
Each time, Sergei will wake with a start and a strangled gasp, clutching at the sheets. He's never told me the details of his dream, just that it's nearly the same each time. He's described the terror he feels when he wakes, and having felt the way his heart pounds against his ribs each time, I don't doubt what he's told me for a second. He revealed that he wakes thinking there's another person in the room with us; someone else lurking in its darkest corners.
Each time, he pulls himself out of bed and investigates the room. I lie there and watch him running one hand along the wall until he reaches the edge, then along the next wall, assuring himself that no one is there. Finding nothing, he proceeds to check the rest of the house until he's looked in every room, every corner.
I had found him in one of the guest bedrooms that first time, turning wide and frightened eyes to me when I'd placed my hand on his back. I'd tried to coax him back to bed. I had tried to assure him that no one was there, that he was safe with us, but he wouldn't come until he'd completed his search.
Tonight is no different except I don't go after him anymore. Instead, I lie on my side watching Nikolai sleep and listen to Sergei's footsteps as he shuffles down the hall.
After some time, he finally comes to bed. He slides between us, pressing his face to the back of Nikolai's neck. He clings to him briefly before throwing an arm back and over my side, trying to pull me even closer to them. His fingers flex along my hip and at his urging, I move closer. I press myself along his body, mirroring the way he's molded himself to Nikolai's frame.
I slide my arm around Sergei's waist, rubbing slow circles against his stomach and I wait for his breathing to even out. Gradually, it does, and when I'm sure he's slipped back into sleep, I allow myself to follow him.