Fic - Ground Game Ot4 Cuddles
Jan. 16th, 2019 07:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lady_mabI realize now I! Misread the prompt when I started writing! And it became sleeping cuddles instead. Oops.
For @nightingem on twitter!!
Echo finds that they prefer to sleep squished in against someone than they do having their own space. Echo also finds that they much prefer being squished up against Gig, who sometimes rolls over in the middle of the night and squishes them, but that’s part of the charm. He’s like a weighted blanket, if a weighted blanket would get hair up their nose sometimes.
Grand is unyielding, like a wall. He’ll sleep with his arms folded over his chest and his back turned to the rest of the camp, shoulders hunched up around his ears as if the very notion of them offended him on some level.
He’s unyielding until, suddenly, he isn’t.
It happens, perhaps naturally. A comfort born of forced familiarity.
Grand begins to move in closer to the others, his posture loosening, his face more relaxed. (Gig, to prove some unknown point one night, draws a moustache on Grand’s already stubble-laced face and his and Echo’s laughter manage to wake Grand up.)
The nights are usually warm, far warmer than Echo is used to up in space—far warmer than the tiny spots they had crammed themself into to catch a nap between jobs, between running. The warmth means that they spend time sleeping out under the Mirage. Echo spends the hours they’re on watch studying the unfamiliar angle of constellations, and listening to the gentle sounds of slumber from their three companions.
But one night it storms and they are forced into the tent. Technically, they have more than one, but this is altogether new and slightly terrifying (though Gig laughs with a reckless abandon, to the point where he gets rainwater up his nose and, sputtering, is forced inside).
Grand watches it with rapt attention, and Echo tries not to jump at every crash of thunder that rolls overhead like waves in the ocean.
Only Even has been planetside before this, and he distracts the three of them with stories of other adventures that he’s been on.
They fall asleep like this, slowly, or all at once, Echo isn’t sure, because they wake up hours later when the storm has subsided. Grand’s arm is around their waist, and his face pressed in against their shoulder. Gig somehow managed to rotate in the night, and Echo is using one of his knees as a pillow when the other foot is draped over their stomach. Even is tucked into the corner of the tent with Gig’s head in his lap—seemingly asleep, until his eyes open as Echo starts to untangle themself.
He doesn’t say anything, merely watches as they pick their way carefully across the tent to his side. They crouch down, shifting Gig’s head into their own lap, so they can curl up against Even. From there, they have a good view of the dull gray morning as the rain continues to fall.
Eventually, they drift back off to sleep.
also some bonus idk what this is before I found my footing:
Once down on Quire, sleeping becomes a sort of art form.
Echo has always been good at sleeping in random places at short notice. They’re used to cramming themselves into small spaces, dozing regardless of noise or light level, and able to wake up just as quickly as they drop off.
But the rest of their crew make it nigh on impossible.
Gig doesn’t kick, but he sleeps in a way that resembles a starfish, limbs akimbo and taking up more than his fair share of already limited space. Grand doesn’t snore, nor does he talk in his sleep, but more than once Echo woke up to find him idly gesturing at something in his sleep and muttering formula and other architectural terms that made it sound more like he was chanting in some arcane language.
Even, bless him, sleeps like the dead. Though he also exists with a sort of silent grace that reminds Echo of a predator and, for the first few nights, they have a hard time actually falling asleep around the man for fear of possibly never waking back up.
Unsurprisingly, Gig is the first one to catch Echo off guard.
For @nightingem on twitter!!
Echo finds that they prefer to sleep squished in against someone than they do having their own space. Echo also finds that they much prefer being squished up against Gig, who sometimes rolls over in the middle of the night and squishes them, but that’s part of the charm. He’s like a weighted blanket, if a weighted blanket would get hair up their nose sometimes.
Grand is unyielding, like a wall. He’ll sleep with his arms folded over his chest and his back turned to the rest of the camp, shoulders hunched up around his ears as if the very notion of them offended him on some level.
He’s unyielding until, suddenly, he isn’t.
It happens, perhaps naturally. A comfort born of forced familiarity.
Grand begins to move in closer to the others, his posture loosening, his face more relaxed. (Gig, to prove some unknown point one night, draws a moustache on Grand’s already stubble-laced face and his and Echo’s laughter manage to wake Grand up.)
The nights are usually warm, far warmer than Echo is used to up in space—far warmer than the tiny spots they had crammed themself into to catch a nap between jobs, between running. The warmth means that they spend time sleeping out under the Mirage. Echo spends the hours they’re on watch studying the unfamiliar angle of constellations, and listening to the gentle sounds of slumber from their three companions.
But one night it storms and they are forced into the tent. Technically, they have more than one, but this is altogether new and slightly terrifying (though Gig laughs with a reckless abandon, to the point where he gets rainwater up his nose and, sputtering, is forced inside).
Grand watches it with rapt attention, and Echo tries not to jump at every crash of thunder that rolls overhead like waves in the ocean.
Only Even has been planetside before this, and he distracts the three of them with stories of other adventures that he’s been on.
They fall asleep like this, slowly, or all at once, Echo isn’t sure, because they wake up hours later when the storm has subsided. Grand’s arm is around their waist, and his face pressed in against their shoulder. Gig somehow managed to rotate in the night, and Echo is using one of his knees as a pillow when the other foot is draped over their stomach. Even is tucked into the corner of the tent with Gig’s head in his lap—seemingly asleep, until his eyes open as Echo starts to untangle themself.
He doesn’t say anything, merely watches as they pick their way carefully across the tent to his side. They crouch down, shifting Gig’s head into their own lap, so they can curl up against Even. From there, they have a good view of the dull gray morning as the rain continues to fall.
Eventually, they drift back off to sleep.
also some bonus idk what this is before I found my footing:
Once down on Quire, sleeping becomes a sort of art form.
Echo has always been good at sleeping in random places at short notice. They’re used to cramming themselves into small spaces, dozing regardless of noise or light level, and able to wake up just as quickly as they drop off.
But the rest of their crew make it nigh on impossible.
Gig doesn’t kick, but he sleeps in a way that resembles a starfish, limbs akimbo and taking up more than his fair share of already limited space. Grand doesn’t snore, nor does he talk in his sleep, but more than once Echo woke up to find him idly gesturing at something in his sleep and muttering formula and other architectural terms that made it sound more like he was chanting in some arcane language.
Even, bless him, sleeps like the dead. Though he also exists with a sort of silent grace that reminds Echo of a predator and, for the first few nights, they have a hard time actually falling asleep around the man for fear of possibly never waking back up.
Unsurprisingly, Gig is the first one to catch Echo off guard.
