![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: when the darkness falls under your hair, there I’ll be
Series: FE
Character/pairing: Ike/Soren
Rating: PG at most. Tame.
Word count: 507
A/N:: You're my own, you're my own, I can sing it, I can grow, but the darkness is a stranger. Sleepfluff is now a genre. Inspired by talking of sleeping habits ages ago.
How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning.
-from Moby Dick, by Herman Melville.
--
Ike was a heavy sleeper. Not only that, he was prone to sleeping late so in the end it was simply easier for Soren to add personal alarm clock to his ever growing list of titles. Soren was ever vigilant in his care of his commander. Ike was prone to throwing off the covers at odd hours and not waking to pull the covers back up where they belonged. At the first touch of cold Soren would awake and take to his duty of finding and pulling the covers back to keep them both warm.
(At times, Soren would awake in a worried state, from a dream, or a simple lapse in breath. He'd push his ear to Ike's chest and remind himself that his heart still beat.)
Soren was a light sleeper, but Ike could sleep through the first alarms and then some–his only bane was a light touch and a whisper of his name. That would wake him better than Mist clanging a pot over his head (though it wasn’t clear If he merely only responded to that one voice, or if Soren had some unknown magic talent.)
Soren only slept in small snatched frames of time, five hours at most. If it wasn’t the nightmares that woke him, it was an innate nervousness that meant he could never be inactive for too long, even if it wasn’t wasting time, but regaining strength. The darkness had often been a stranger in his life, full of the promise of a cold, unforgiving night closing in, filled with waking nightmares of beasts and thieves which might take what little solace he had in his life. But now, it was almost welcome.
(Sometimes they laid up at night talking, Ike's fingers skimmed over Soren's thighs in idle strokes. Ike might not have touched him often in public, but in bed he'd graze his knuckles up Soren's spine, loop his hair about his fingers, and kiss his neck. This could be a prelude to sex, but they also could be simply a gesture in itself, a simple moment between the words.)
That didn't mean he'd be instantly up, however. Ike might have been considered a blanket hog, except he had a habit of stealing away his bed partner as well as the blankets, as Soren often found when he was trapped in Ike's arms and he'd woken again.
(It was so warm there, so safe. It was one of the few times he could relax, listening to Ike breathing, his steady thump of heartbeat.)
And then, perhaps a gentle whisper could've had him released from Ike's grip, but sometimes Soren would let him sleep with his head buried into the crook of Soren's neck. He could always catch up on the paperwork another day.
Series: FE
Character/pairing: Ike/Soren
Rating: PG at most. Tame.
Word count: 507
A/N:
How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning.
-from Moby Dick, by Herman Melville.
--
Ike was a heavy sleeper. Not only that, he was prone to sleeping late so in the end it was simply easier for Soren to add personal alarm clock to his ever growing list of titles. Soren was ever vigilant in his care of his commander. Ike was prone to throwing off the covers at odd hours and not waking to pull the covers back up where they belonged. At the first touch of cold Soren would awake and take to his duty of finding and pulling the covers back to keep them both warm.
(At times, Soren would awake in a worried state, from a dream, or a simple lapse in breath. He'd push his ear to Ike's chest and remind himself that his heart still beat.)
Soren was a light sleeper, but Ike could sleep through the first alarms and then some–his only bane was a light touch and a whisper of his name. That would wake him better than Mist clanging a pot over his head (though it wasn’t clear If he merely only responded to that one voice, or if Soren had some unknown magic talent.)
Soren only slept in small snatched frames of time, five hours at most. If it wasn’t the nightmares that woke him, it was an innate nervousness that meant he could never be inactive for too long, even if it wasn’t wasting time, but regaining strength. The darkness had often been a stranger in his life, full of the promise of a cold, unforgiving night closing in, filled with waking nightmares of beasts and thieves which might take what little solace he had in his life. But now, it was almost welcome.
(Sometimes they laid up at night talking, Ike's fingers skimmed over Soren's thighs in idle strokes. Ike might not have touched him often in public, but in bed he'd graze his knuckles up Soren's spine, loop his hair about his fingers, and kiss his neck. This could be a prelude to sex, but they also could be simply a gesture in itself, a simple moment between the words.)
That didn't mean he'd be instantly up, however. Ike might have been considered a blanket hog, except he had a habit of stealing away his bed partner as well as the blankets, as Soren often found when he was trapped in Ike's arms and he'd woken again.
(It was so warm there, so safe. It was one of the few times he could relax, listening to Ike breathing, his steady thump of heartbeat.)
And then, perhaps a gentle whisper could've had him released from Ike's grip, but sometimes Soren would let him sleep with his head buried into the crook of Soren's neck. He could always catch up on the paperwork another day.
