Balm of Hurt Minds - Lost - Esau/Jacob
Title: Balm of Hurt Minds
Pairing: Unrequited Esau/Jacob
Word Count: 554
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for the "sleepy/unconscious" square of my kink bingo card.Pre-series.
Summary: Jacob comes across his brother while he is sleeping.
Esau's face is slack with sleep when Jacob finds him in their cave. His chest is rising and falling steadily, and he doesn't stir at all when Jacob enters. Far beneath them, the ocean crashes against the rocks as a steady background track to Esau's slumber.
"Brother?" he whispers as he creeps closer.
Esau doesn't stir.
Crouched near him, Jacob takes a moment to take him in: sleeping curled in on himself, Esau takes up as little space as it is possible for a twenty-year-old man to do. There is something peaceful about his expression that Jacob is far from used to seeing. Everything is always such a battle with his brother. It has been since they were children.
He sits cross-legged at Esau's side, head tilted to the side as he watches nothing more than the quiet rise and fall of his chest. Breathing. Life.
His hand reaches out, nearly trembling, so that his fingertips can rest upon the curve of Esau's bicep, skimming over tanned skin. Esau is dirty from the work that he does for his village, the home that he has carved far away from Jacob and Mother. If he lived with his family, they would not make such demands of him. They would not leave him so exhausted that he has to retreat to their hideaway to grab what little rest he can.
Jacob's fingers trail over the length of Esau's arm, barely daring to touch more than that. His brother is strong; he's always been Mother's favourite, and when Jacob looks upon him he can understand why.
Shifting over the solid rock beneath them, Jacob lies down behind Esau. His body curls into the same C-shape, a perfect echo, and he aligns himself with Esau. They share warmth in the thin gap between their bodies, and it only takes a moment before Esau mumbles in contentment and shuffles closer to Jacob's heat.
Jacob freezes, and waits. He's not sure what he's waiting for - an elbow in the ribs or a snarled insult. They had shared sleeping space before, when they were young children, but it has been a long time since Esau had lived with him. They've grown up. Sometimes, Jacob wishes that they hadn't. He wishes that they could have stayed in stasis, smiles on their faces, bickering over who had got the best portion at dinner rather than arguing over the island and their places on it.
Off it, as far as Esau is concerned.
Yet, in sleep, Esau doesn't shove him away or pick an argument. He rests against him, pliant and peaceful, and Jacob even dares to slip an arm around his brother's waist. He's aware, dimly, that there's something wrong about the feeling of contentment that their proximity inspires in the centre of his chest. It shouldn't make him feel like this to be so close to Esau. Mother would scowl at him and disapprove.
They haven't been this close or this peaceful in years, though, and it isn't something that Jacob would give up for the world, curled around his brother as if they can fight off the outside world: together.
*
It is years before he holds Esau again.
This time, his brother's body is heavy and bloody; wet and broken. His chest doesn't rise and fall with gentle movement.
His heart doesn't beat - and, for Jacob, the world begins to crumble.
Pairing: Unrequited Esau/Jacob
Word Count: 554
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for the "sleepy/unconscious" square of my kink bingo card.Pre-series.
Summary: Jacob comes across his brother while he is sleeping.
Esau's face is slack with sleep when Jacob finds him in their cave. His chest is rising and falling steadily, and he doesn't stir at all when Jacob enters. Far beneath them, the ocean crashes against the rocks as a steady background track to Esau's slumber.
"Brother?" he whispers as he creeps closer.
Esau doesn't stir.
Crouched near him, Jacob takes a moment to take him in: sleeping curled in on himself, Esau takes up as little space as it is possible for a twenty-year-old man to do. There is something peaceful about his expression that Jacob is far from used to seeing. Everything is always such a battle with his brother. It has been since they were children.
He sits cross-legged at Esau's side, head tilted to the side as he watches nothing more than the quiet rise and fall of his chest. Breathing. Life.
His hand reaches out, nearly trembling, so that his fingertips can rest upon the curve of Esau's bicep, skimming over tanned skin. Esau is dirty from the work that he does for his village, the home that he has carved far away from Jacob and Mother. If he lived with his family, they would not make such demands of him. They would not leave him so exhausted that he has to retreat to their hideaway to grab what little rest he can.
Jacob's fingers trail over the length of Esau's arm, barely daring to touch more than that. His brother is strong; he's always been Mother's favourite, and when Jacob looks upon him he can understand why.
Shifting over the solid rock beneath them, Jacob lies down behind Esau. His body curls into the same C-shape, a perfect echo, and he aligns himself with Esau. They share warmth in the thin gap between their bodies, and it only takes a moment before Esau mumbles in contentment and shuffles closer to Jacob's heat.
Jacob freezes, and waits. He's not sure what he's waiting for - an elbow in the ribs or a snarled insult. They had shared sleeping space before, when they were young children, but it has been a long time since Esau had lived with him. They've grown up. Sometimes, Jacob wishes that they hadn't. He wishes that they could have stayed in stasis, smiles on their faces, bickering over who had got the best portion at dinner rather than arguing over the island and their places on it.
Off it, as far as Esau is concerned.
Yet, in sleep, Esau doesn't shove him away or pick an argument. He rests against him, pliant and peaceful, and Jacob even dares to slip an arm around his brother's waist. He's aware, dimly, that there's something wrong about the feeling of contentment that their proximity inspires in the centre of his chest. It shouldn't make him feel like this to be so close to Esau. Mother would scowl at him and disapprove.
They haven't been this close or this peaceful in years, though, and it isn't something that Jacob would give up for the world, curled around his brother as if they can fight off the outside world: together.
*
It is years before he holds Esau again.
This time, his brother's body is heavy and bloody; wet and broken. His chest doesn't rise and fall with gentle movement.
His heart doesn't beat - and, for Jacob, the world begins to crumble.