#and arso gets rid of them

[zephyrnine]

a few friends gave me an idea to start doing another 1-word prompt fic challenge to get me back into writing c: so of course i’m doing it with SKARSO. i hope to post a prompt maybe like once a week hopefully. my writings very rusty so 😭

oh also this drabble is just pure fluff 👍 as fluff as a fic about two deranged psychopaths can be at least

1. Comfort

…

“Firebug.” Dexter’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and his arms flexed nervously where they lay around Firebug’s waist. He felt the larger man stir above him, and knew he had his attention.

His throat felt dry as he spoke again. “If I’m being honest, yes, I am worried. Some nights, i’m terrified.” He traced idle, slow circles in the small of Firebug’s back, for the others' comfort or for his own he didn’t know. This feeling of being small, of vulnerability… it was incredibly foreign to Dexter. It was hard to keep going with his train of thought, only being able to do so when Firebug gently urged him on, holding him closer.

“Living in Salem, it’s going to kill us one day.” He mumbled.

Firebug hummed, the sound low and thoughtful. “Just like you killed the town’s sheriff, right?”

Dexter scoffed, “I’m serious. I finally have something to live for — you — and some crazed mutt could take that away in an instant — or we could get hanged, or…”

“We could run away,” Firebug said quickly then, because he couldn’t disagree. Salem definitely had its ways of ripping a person apart… in the most terrifyingly, literal sense.

Dexter sighed, laying his head down on the arsonist's chest, taking in the familiar smell of gasoline and ash that always smothered him. “No, we couldn’t. If we leave during the day, someone in town will catch us; we get hanged. If we leave during the night, the jailor executes us.” He closes his eyes, listening to Firebug’s heart beat soundly in his chest. Each thrum was calming and before long, despite the grim conversation, he smiled. “But it’s a nice thought. A really nice one.”

Dexter couldn’t see the way Firebug’s eyes softened, how his face turned a benign shade of red at the sentiment. His eyes still closed, beginning to grow heavy with weariness.

“We will live. No cowardly mafia, no scheming coven, and no dumb townspeople could ever harm us. We watch each other’s backs, don’t we?” Firebug craned his neck down and pressed a kiss to the top of Dexter’s head, his hand on the other man’s back sliding up to his shoulder blade and pressing him closer, almost protectively. “This entire town will burn before either of us die here. You can count on that.”

Dexter smiled again, and couldn’t stifle the hushed laugh that left him. He could never understand Firebug’s optimism, but right now… he was inclined to follow it—to believe it because he believed in the other man, and he believed in them together. “…Careful, you’re giving me hope that we might survive this craziness.” He sounded drowsy.

“Good.” Firebug chuckled, shifting a bit under Dexter to adjust the pillow under his head, before laying back down. “Now, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day for us.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right…” Dexter murmured sleepily against Firebug’s chest. “I can’t wait to finally get that vigilante bastard off of our asses. Our ‘healing eachother’ claim wasn’t going to fool him for much longer.”

“Ha. Like that idiot could do anything worth… well, anything to us.” The arsonist’s voice was deep with exhaustion and Dexter could feel it rumble against his face. It was nice, and lulled him even further into sleep’s grasp.

For the first time in a while, he was looking forward to whatever insanity tomorrow could bring.