action with Rider
When Waver woke up, he was lying in bed as usual; he felt warm and secure and relaxed, and he was awfully tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep. If it weren't for Rider's heavy arm draped over his middle, he might have done just that. Instead he sighed, wriggled a little further under the covers, and--
Wait.
Since when did Rider start sharing a bed with him? It was too small and his feet hung over the end.
Part of his brain supplied, since we got married, but the rest of it immediately vetoed that. He'd never gotten married to Rider. The idea itself was ridiculous-- Japan didn't allow two men to marry. England didn't allow two men to marry. Hell, ancient Greece didn't allow two men to marry, either. What on earth had possessed him to think that they were anything more than Master and Servant?
By this point, he was more awake and his brain was pulling itself out of a sleepy fog, and he was starting to remember things from the past few days.
Lots of things.
Things that involved himself and Rider and this bed and no clothes.
Speaking of no clothes, he very suddenly and acutely realized that he was not wearing any. He was definitely naked underneath the sheets and, judging by the vast expanse of Rider's chest against his back, his Servant wasn't wearing anything, either. Though Rider always did seem to have some kind of vendetta against clothes...
It suddenly seemed very close. Very close and very hot and very uncomfortable and kind of like he couldn't get enough air and oh hell he really needed to not be there right now. After a moment or two of frantic wriggling, he managed to extract himself from underneath Rider's arm, grab the nearest piece of clothing, and dash to the bathroom. He locked the door behind himself and tugged the garment over his head-- his Servant's shirt, of course he would pick up his Servant's shirt right now-- before stumbling over to the sink on unsteady legs. He was shaking.
He fumbled with the taps for a couple of seconds before he was able to turn it on and started to splash his face with water, as though that might help calm the twisting, clenching feeling in his gut, like his intestines were trying to slither up into his chest. It wasn't very successful.
Waver looked up into the mirror, and saw his own pale, panicked face looking back at him. There was really only one thing that he could say.
"...Fuck."
Wait.
Since when did Rider start sharing a bed with him? It was too small and his feet hung over the end.
Part of his brain supplied, since we got married, but the rest of it immediately vetoed that. He'd never gotten married to Rider. The idea itself was ridiculous-- Japan didn't allow two men to marry. England didn't allow two men to marry. Hell, ancient Greece didn't allow two men to marry, either. What on earth had possessed him to think that they were anything more than Master and Servant?
By this point, he was more awake and his brain was pulling itself out of a sleepy fog, and he was starting to remember things from the past few days.
Lots of things.
Things that involved himself and Rider and this bed and no clothes.
Speaking of no clothes, he very suddenly and acutely realized that he was not wearing any. He was definitely naked underneath the sheets and, judging by the vast expanse of Rider's chest against his back, his Servant wasn't wearing anything, either. Though Rider always did seem to have some kind of vendetta against clothes...
It suddenly seemed very close. Very close and very hot and very uncomfortable and kind of like he couldn't get enough air and oh hell he really needed to not be there right now. After a moment or two of frantic wriggling, he managed to extract himself from underneath Rider's arm, grab the nearest piece of clothing, and dash to the bathroom. He locked the door behind himself and tugged the garment over his head-- his Servant's shirt, of course he would pick up his Servant's shirt right now-- before stumbling over to the sink on unsteady legs. He was shaking.
He fumbled with the taps for a couple of seconds before he was able to turn it on and started to splash his face with water, as though that might help calm the twisting, clenching feeling in his gut, like his intestines were trying to slither up into his chest. It wasn't very successful.
Waver looked up into the mirror, and saw his own pale, panicked face looking back at him. There was really only one thing that he could say.
"...Fuck."