Disturbance in the Force
Peter hadn't been sleeping well. It usually meant that he just took on more shifts to keep himself occupied until he would get tired enough to just crash, and then he'd sleep for a long time, hopefully undisturbed. When he was completely exhausted, he didn't dream so much.
He hadn't gotten to the point of exhaustion yet, but being at Bennet's apartment provided enough comfort that he was able to fall asleep. Maybe what he was craving was company. Not waking up alone all the time. Peter was a social creature--he thrived on physical contact. He loved to be held and to hold onto. It didn't matter if it was simple or complex, that was one of the things that was very meaningful to him.
It made sense that he fell asleep in the arms of his lover because that was a safe place. It was the first restful sleep that Peter had gotten in a few days. But even with the conscious comfort that he had, it didn't register in his dreaming subconscious, which was somewhat immune to the comfort of being held.
When he dreamt, Peter moved around. If he was in bed alone, sometimes he would wake up with his head in the corner and his feet by the pillows, or completely entangled in the sheets, or often on the floor. It was a habit he hadn't outgrown, and one of the reasons that his parents never gave in when he wanted a bunk bed as a child. He had his face pressed into the pillow, his nose bent out of shape, and he was gripping it like it was a lifeline. One of his legs was starting to twitch.
The nightmare was unexplanable. Sometimes they were hybrids of the past and imagination. Sometimes it was entirely horrible memories. Sometimes the future--metaphoric or literal. Sometimes just pure imagination. No one was worse than another. They were all demented and twisted by Memories, creatures with pale eyes that spoke in an inhuman tone and ate souls.
This one was about fire. There were whispers in the darkness of anticipation, and the whispers grew louder, talking in his ears. There were drums, and drums, and drums louder still. And the shouting, and heat. Heat and fire. And the drums, and drums. Twisted bone creatures, and the drums. Air was too hot to be air. He felt it on his skin, down his back and on his face. The voices shouted and screamed foreign words. And the drums.
Memories embodied, tearing the air with gnarled branch-fingers. And the drums still, and drums louder, with shouting and screaming, and drums, pounding and pounded, and drums chaotic, and drums of fire.
And it exploded.
Peter woke up with Bennet's hand on his back, and he flipped over onto his back, looking out at the darkness of the bedroom. The drums were still faint in his head, but the shouting voices had stopped. There were just Noah's concerned eyes.
Neither of them said anything at first. Bennet had seen his nightmares at least once before. He reached a hand out and brushed Peter's hair back, and when the younger man was ready to, he wrapped his arms around his lover and buried his face against his shoulder. He would be able to stop shaking in Noah's arms.
He listened as Bennet drew in a breath and held onto him with warm hands on his back. There were a few murmurings; that he was safe, that it was a dream, that he wasn't alone. Peter closed his eyes.
"What was it about? Do you want to tell me, sweetheart?"
He started to chew on his lip. Besides that it had been so abstract, he didn't want to think about it and bring the drums and the screaming back. He really wanted to give his mind somewhere else go to--somewhere much more friendly. Peter sighed softly. "It was as if millions of voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced."
The faintest of smiles on Bennet's face was audible; he made a thoughtful noise. "A disturbance in the Force then."
"Yeah," Peter said, grateful that Noah recognized his shift in direction. Not that he thought that Noah would press him to talk about it anyway. It was just a nightmare. Just a bad dream. "I think we better stay away from Alderaan."
"Probably best. We can save the universe from the Empire tomorrow," Bennet replied.
They spent a few more minutes before Peter deemed it safe enough to try again. Noah held onto him, and he held onto him back. He loved this man, and love was a lot stronger than nightmares. Peter didn't stray from Noah's arms again that night, and he slept through until morning with peaceful silence.
(Bennet is
hornrimmed used without permission but with a lotta love and tribbles)
He hadn't gotten to the point of exhaustion yet, but being at Bennet's apartment provided enough comfort that he was able to fall asleep. Maybe what he was craving was company. Not waking up alone all the time. Peter was a social creature--he thrived on physical contact. He loved to be held and to hold onto. It didn't matter if it was simple or complex, that was one of the things that was very meaningful to him.
It made sense that he fell asleep in the arms of his lover because that was a safe place. It was the first restful sleep that Peter had gotten in a few days. But even with the conscious comfort that he had, it didn't register in his dreaming subconscious, which was somewhat immune to the comfort of being held.
When he dreamt, Peter moved around. If he was in bed alone, sometimes he would wake up with his head in the corner and his feet by the pillows, or completely entangled in the sheets, or often on the floor. It was a habit he hadn't outgrown, and one of the reasons that his parents never gave in when he wanted a bunk bed as a child. He had his face pressed into the pillow, his nose bent out of shape, and he was gripping it like it was a lifeline. One of his legs was starting to twitch.
The nightmare was unexplanable. Sometimes they were hybrids of the past and imagination. Sometimes it was entirely horrible memories. Sometimes the future--metaphoric or literal. Sometimes just pure imagination. No one was worse than another. They were all demented and twisted by Memories, creatures with pale eyes that spoke in an inhuman tone and ate souls.
This one was about fire. There were whispers in the darkness of anticipation, and the whispers grew louder, talking in his ears. There were drums, and drums, and drums louder still. And the shouting, and heat. Heat and fire. And the drums, and drums. Twisted bone creatures, and the drums. Air was too hot to be air. He felt it on his skin, down his back and on his face. The voices shouted and screamed foreign words. And the drums.
Memories embodied, tearing the air with gnarled branch-fingers. And the drums still, and drums louder, with shouting and screaming, and drums, pounding and pounded, and drums chaotic, and drums of fire.
And it exploded.
Peter woke up with Bennet's hand on his back, and he flipped over onto his back, looking out at the darkness of the bedroom. The drums were still faint in his head, but the shouting voices had stopped. There were just Noah's concerned eyes.
Neither of them said anything at first. Bennet had seen his nightmares at least once before. He reached a hand out and brushed Peter's hair back, and when the younger man was ready to, he wrapped his arms around his lover and buried his face against his shoulder. He would be able to stop shaking in Noah's arms.
He listened as Bennet drew in a breath and held onto him with warm hands on his back. There were a few murmurings; that he was safe, that it was a dream, that he wasn't alone. Peter closed his eyes.
"What was it about? Do you want to tell me, sweetheart?"
He started to chew on his lip. Besides that it had been so abstract, he didn't want to think about it and bring the drums and the screaming back. He really wanted to give his mind somewhere else go to--somewhere much more friendly. Peter sighed softly. "It was as if millions of voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced."
The faintest of smiles on Bennet's face was audible; he made a thoughtful noise. "A disturbance in the Force then."
"Yeah," Peter said, grateful that Noah recognized his shift in direction. Not that he thought that Noah would press him to talk about it anyway. It was just a nightmare. Just a bad dream. "I think we better stay away from Alderaan."
"Probably best. We can save the universe from the Empire tomorrow," Bennet replied.
They spent a few more minutes before Peter deemed it safe enough to try again. Noah held onto him, and he held onto him back. He loved this man, and love was a lot stronger than nightmares. Peter didn't stray from Noah's arms again that night, and he slept through until morning with peaceful silence.
(Bennet is
hornrimmed used without permission but with a lotta love and tribbles)