#i slept fine on it but come on hotel mattresses are supposed to be fluffy

[alltheprettyplaces]

michelle's couch is more comfortable than the bed in this hotel let me tell you

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [7/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: there’s a proposal, a child, and a kiss. yes, in that order.

word count: 4627 | total word count: 118k

a/n: i’m nearly done writing this giant of a fic (there’s a LOT more after this, trust me) but chapters seven and eight are probably my favourites, simply for being fluffy as HECK. that being said, warning for the slightest allusion to dub-con that didn't actually happen.

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

The insistent buzzing of an AC system - the honking of horns - the vague smell of still-warm tomato sauce and cheese - the faint smell of deodorant and medical equipment? -

Peter shot up once again in confusion, looking around wildly before realizing the scent of medical equipment was probably because of the girl lying next to him, clutching at the bandage on a small cut on her arm from her training session with Nebula yesterday. It was already stitching itself up, but Nebula seemed to have gone at such an angle that had left Gamora’s muscles to repair themselves as well. Despite being asleep, she looked as if she were deep in thought, her brow furrowed, arms wrapped protectively around her stomach, knees slightly bent, as if she were ready to spring up at any moment. She’d moved much closer in the night, neatly tucked against his shoulder like she belonged there.

He rolled over to grab his phone off the nightstand before he could think about it for too long. 10 AM - whoa, they had slept in way past their usual call-time. It was probably a good thing, though - the week had weighed heavily on them, what with the buildup of work, and of course, the funeral rattling even the toughest of students. Still, it was probably time to wake her up.

“Gamora,” Peter whispered. “Hey, we should grab some breakfast and go on that supply run now.”

Her eyes flickered open slowly, large and dark, considering. “Ok,” she hummed, her voice hoarse with sleep. “What are we eating?”

“Free food downstairs, of course,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. She looked a little wary at the way he was hovering so closely. “It’s kind of late, so I was just gonna grab a muffin and some coffee.”

She glanced over at the clock and let out a panicked cry. “Quill! Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

He held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I just woke up, too. This bed is nicer than the ones on the Milano and in the dorms.”

“Maybe that should be one of our expenses from the prize money,” Gamora yawned, rubbing absent-mindedly at her eyes. “Mattresses for the Milano that don’t remind me of Sanctuary.” Peter winced slightly at that - Gamora had only sparingly told stories of her time with Thanos, but he remembered her talk of sleepless nights on beds of rock and debris.

They moved around the room in companionable silence, brushing their teeth, getting changed, and packing a small bag for the day (“It’s not a purse, it’s a knapsack,” Peter insisted as Gamora tucked her own few belongings into her utility belt). The breakfast room was thankfully mostly empty, aside from a sweet elderly couple who got excited upon seeing them and started babbling away about the Incident (“We weren’t even on Terra yet, why are they thanking us?” “Just smile and nod, Gamora.”).

“And your hair, it’s so beautiful,” the woman said, her eyes twinkling. “You are a vision, my dear.”

Gamora looked taken aback at being referred to in such a manner, at first thinking the woman was confusing her for the actual Vision. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” she said with a gentle smile. “It was lovely to meet you both.”

After they left the hotel and got into the car, Peter commented, “You are getting pretty good with people now. I mean, really, I could trust you to handle civilians in dangerous situations more than anyone else. Except maybe Mantis, if they’re like, super scared.”

“You already leave Mantis to handle civilians,” she reminded him. “Unless there are beautiful women involved.”

“Sometimes, a beautiful woman wants a good-looking guy to tell her everything’s gonna be okay,” he boasted, and Gamora groaned.

“You haven’t even started the engine yet, and I already want to get out,” she sighed. “Just start the car, Quill.”

______

They arrived at the SHIELD base twenty minutes later, Academy passes at the ready. The building was nondescript - fully glass exterior, an underground parking lot that led out onto the street, looking like any other office building in any number of cities. People were aware of SHIELD having headquarters on the Academy campus, but SHIELD wisely knew that civilians would be more nervous knowing that there was another building among them, storing secrets that would even make Natasha’s head spin.

They checked in at the front desk with someone that Peter decided to refer to as “Generic Good-Looking SHIELD Agent #5” in his head, a tall, slim-framed man in his 20s with a stylish undercut and a jawline that could cut glass. The man was looking at Gamora’s ID card for a little too long. Peter was about to call the guy out for his rudeness (he’d witnessed some pretty hostile behaviour towards Gamora and other non-Terran students from SHIELD agents before) until he looked up at her with an oddly...amorous light in his eyes.

“Is this your first time here, Miss Gamora? Don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said, his voice slightly deeper than it had been fifteen seconds ago.

Gamora seemed unbothered by this. “I’m here every four months with Quill. Maybe you just weren’t working on those days.”

“I definitely would’ve remembered you,” the receptionist nodded, agreeing with some statement she had never made. He stood, making sure to smooth his hands down over his uniform as if to brush away creases that didn’t exist. The man then reached over as if to guide Gamora, his hand hovering near the small of her back. “If you’ll follow me over here through the security check - ”

Peter groaned. “Dude, you’re so not subtle.”

The man paused in his overly-salacious speech, dropping his arm. “I’m sorry, Mister Quill, I don’t follow.”

“Can we get another agent to perform the security check on my girlfriend instead?”

Gamora turned to look at Peter, then back at Generic Good-Looking SHIELD Agent #5. Her hand went to the blade tucked into her vest, though she didn’t move to unsheath it. “Were you about to take advantage of me?” she said, her voice dangerously low.

“I - no, Miss Gamora, I - ” Number Five (Peter couldn’t be bothered with the full title or an acronym at this point) turned to look at Peter pleadingly. “Mister Quill, I promise that’s not - ”

“Don’t look at me, man. It’s her you should be worried about,” he said, relaxed now that Gamora had understood what was going on.

Petrified, Number Five moved to press a button on his monitor. “Can we get another agent down to reception, please?”

After passing through security (in which Peter gave Number Five a sarcastic wave goodbye), Gamora reached over to grab Peter’s hand, squeezing it. “You are still not supposed to protect me,” she said. “I doubt he meant much harm. But I’m grateful for it. Thank you.”

“He would’ve touched you without your permission,” Peter shrugged abashedly. “That’s not a cool thing to do.”

They were interrupted by another agent, gesturing for them to follow her to the armory. The three walked in silence, though Gamora held Peter’s hand the rest of the way, telling herself that it was because their fake relationship had to extend past the confines of the campus, and not because she had already gotten so used to the weight of his fingers tangled with hers.

______

After being given the usual droning speech about how to write up their own invoices for the inventory they took, to not touch any of the triggers on any of the weapons, and to be careful not to blow anything up, the agent left them alone, though not before pointing at the plethora of security cameras in a threatening manner.

“We’ve been here so many times,” Peter complained after she left. “She should know by now we’re only here for special batteries. I mean, seriously, they really should transport some of this stuff back to base on campus so we don’t have to come here so often.”

“At least we get a bit of a vacation out of it this time,” Gamora said, sitting on the floor in front of the shelf of energy-blast casings. “Maybe we should do this again, instead of just driving in for an afternoon like we usually do.”

“Like a team thing, or a you-and-me thing?” She turned to look at him, but he was looking down at his blasters, inspecting one of the dials intently, though she knew they were perfectly fine.

“I’m fine with either, but I think I’d prefer if we were alone,” she said softly, watching as Peter blushed and turned away to busy himself at another shelf full of weapons they definitely didn’t need. Wisely, she decided not to comment. “Three boxes of these, correct?”

Peter shook himself a little and tucked his blasters away. “Yeah. And then we need some more of that special liquid metal for Rocket’s newest BFGs - yeah, those vials over there - and Pepper told me there’s some new automatic blade sharpeners that I thought you and Drax could try...”

______

An hour later, they were on the road again (but not before Peter slid his arm around Gamora’s waist and winked at Number Five on the way out), this time to a Wal-Mart to get non-lethal supplies. Gamora did her best to ignore the stares of people who caught glimpses of her, and Peter did his best not to gawk at seeing her in terrible fluorescent lighting. It was hard to remember she was the deadliest woman in the galaxy when she was wearing an “I <3 NY” cap, standing next to a giant cage filled with people-sized teddy bears. To keep her distracted from one particular middle-aged woman who was giving her the hairy eyeball, Peter kept up a running commentary as they walked around, pushing their grocery cart full of random household goods.

“We should really lecture Groot about not making nests out of our pillows because these things are freaking expensive. Or maybe just talk to Pepper about keeping these in stock somewhere on campus.”

“Mantis’s sweet tooth is really gonna run us dry - I mean, the amount of Twizzlers she eats is ridiculous and her teeth are gonna fall out someday - ”

“Oh, hey, it’s the dollar bin section, we should look at the movies!”

They left with a frankly excessive amount of Twizzlers and DVDs among their other necessary items, returning to the hotel to freshen up and have lunch before heading out for the rest of the day. As they got changed, Gamora felt foreign in Janet’s clothes, this time wearing a cold-shoulder blouse and a pair of palazzos that Mantis had dug out of her closet. “It will be good for the park and the theatre,” she had said eagerly. Peter also looked uncomfortable in a red dress shirt and dark slacks, which were particularly tight.

“Oh, damn,” he sighed. “These pants are like a cheap hotel.” She blinked at him. “Y’know. No ball room?”

“That was a terrible joke and you should be ashamed,” Gamora said dryly, surprising another laugh out of Peter. “Let’s go.”

Mantis had directed the two towards Shakespeare Park, citing it as a particularly romantic spot that would be good for photos. Gamora was uncertain about how romantic it would be - after all, she and Peter smelled like the worst combination of their greasy McDonald’s lunch and motor oil, and it was blisteringly hot for early summer, causing him to immediately sweat upon getting out of the car. By the time they made it to the entrance of the park, he had already thrown his leather jacket back on to hide his armpit stains.

People were looking at them, but in a way that suggested they’d seen it all before. After all, many superheroes passed through Central Park often - the Defenders, all the spider heroes, even the Young Avengers sometimes had picnics here. Still, Gamora looped her arm through Peter’s, and reminded herself that she had at least four blades hidden in her boot.

“We should do two more questions while we’re here,” Peter said, looking over at her as they neared Turtle Pond. “The show doesn’t start til 8, so we’re probably gonna pass out the minute we get back to the hotel.”

Gamora nodded, opening her mouth to start, when she was startled by the sound of a big brass band playing nearby. They both looked over to see what appeared to be a flash mob, surrounding a couple of people. The blonde woman looked confused, but the darker-haired woman was staring at her with such devotion in her eyes, Gamora was surprised she didn’t see what was going on.

“Looks like a proposal to me,” Peter murmured, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Let’s watch.”

The band was playing a song that Peter identified as Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”, while a few ribbon dancers on roller skates went whizzing by, encircling the pair, large cheesy smiles on their faces. It wasn’t the biggest flash mob in the world, nor was it particularly well-coordinated (they cringed in sync as one of the dancers nearly skated into the trombone player) but it seemed just right for the blonde, who was starting to understand what was going on and began to cry.

“Why is she crying?” Gamora asked, confused. “Isn’t she happy?”

“She’s crying because she’s happy,” Peter said, letting go of Gamora’s hand to drape his arm over her shoulder. “You never done that?” She shook her head, her eyes fixated on the couple as the dark-haired woman got down on one knee. Other park-goers had stopped to watch them as well, including a group of tourists who were filming the whole thing. The blonde could only nod, clutching at her quickly-reddening face as a mess of tears smeared everywhere, throwing herself onto her knees beside her now-fiancée and flinging her arms around her with abandon. Peter awwed. “That is awesome.”

The band began picking up the song again, and the dancers twirled away as the couple began kissing, the dark-haired woman scooping up the blonde woman in her arms, bridal-style, as they got to their feet. People applauded, cheering and whooping away for complete strangers, something Gamora couldn’t really fathom. Marriage on other planets didn’t seem like nearly the big deal it did here on Terra, where other people got involved so easily just by spectating on proposals and other public displays of affection.

“Excuse me, miss.” Gamora looked down to see a little girl, tugging on her pant leg. “Are you one of the superheroes from that school?”

“I - I am, yes.” Gamora cleared her throat. “My name is Gamora. I’m from the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

The little girl’s eyes widened. “You’re from space!” she said excitedly. “What is space like?”

Peter watched Gamora’s face carefully, curious. Adults, she could handle, but children? Aside from Groot, who was a rather unique case, when was she ever around children? “Space is very big, and very colourful,” Gamora said, her voice gentler than usual. “There are all sorts of weird creatures out there.”

“With lots of teeth?”

“Hundreds, or maybe thousands,” Gamora said dramatically, and the little girl giggled. “And some with no teeth at all. There are aliens with no eyes and too many eyes, or ones that look like spiders with lots of long, skinny legs.”

“I want to go to space someday,” the girl said, continuing to giggle at Gamora’s descriptions. “I want to see!”

A woman came running over, breathless. “Nadia! Nadia, there you are. I turn around for one second and you’ve gone running off.” If the mother seemed phased by coming face-to-face with Gamora, she didn’t show it. “I am so sorry, I hope my daughter hasn’t been bothering you.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” Peter said. “Nadia was telling my girlfriend that she’d like to go to space someday. And if you study hard in school, you can become an astronaut and do just that!”

Her eyes were the size of saucers. “Really? And then I can be a Guardian, like Gamora?”

“If you work hard enough, you can,” Gamora said very seriously, resting a hand on Nadia’s shoulder.

The girl fell silent for a moment, contemplating, before digging into her bookbag and pulling out a pad and a pencil. “Can I get your autograph?” she said shyly.

“Nadia, she doesn’t have time for - ”

“I don’t mind,” Gamora smiled, reaching for the items. Dear Nadia, she wrote, You will make a great Guardian someday. Be the best that you can be, and that will always be enough. Your friend, Gamora.

“Thank you so much,” Nadia squealed, clutching to the notepad like it was her most prized possession. Her mother thanked them hastily before pulling her daughter away, citing that they were late for an appointment.

“That was...awesome,” Peter said, almost breathless, his eyes sparkling in a way that made Gamora feel somehow shyer and stronger in some odd paradoxical way. “I think I know what my questions for you are now.”

“Should we sit?” Gamora asked, her face warming. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to ask, too. After they managed to find a bench, Gamora pulled out her phone to check her notifications before they began the little game of theirs that she had grown to look forward to. “I have a message from Janet...apparently people have been posting on Twitter about us.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Peter leaned back on the bench, allowing Gamora to sit closer to him, tucked under his arm once again. It reminded him of how they’d woken up this morning. She turned her phone screen so they could both see, scrolling through the array of tweets that Jan had taken screenshots of.

“I think I just saw two members of the guardians of the galaxy in central park lol?? #weird”

“little girl just went up to the guardians and asked for their autograph...super cute!!”

“peter quill and gamora are on a date in shakespeare park would it be awkward if i send my snapchat videos to tmz”

“We’re totally the cutest couple in school,” Peter said, dramatically dragging out his vowels in his best impersonation of a valley girl accent. “It’s good. People are talking about us.” He stretched, enjoying the breeze that was passing through, before sitting back up. “So. First question today - have you ever been in a relationship before? It’s just, you were having some interesting reactions to that proposal. I guess it’s not something that you’ve seen happen a lot.”

“The extent of my social life is what you’ve seen at the Cosmic Conservatory and here,” Gamora said. “So no, I’ve never been in a relationship. I never really wanted one, until...well.” She trailed off for a moment, looking rather secretive. “Thanos used me to seduce targets - his employees referred to me as his most attractive child.” Peter winced at that. What a gross thing to say about a kid, he thought. “I never did anything much beyond kissing the targets, though. I never had to, though if it had to come to that, I suspect Thanos would ask it of me.”

“That sounds awful,” Peter sympathized, squeezing her hand. “I mean, a lot of things that Thanos did to you guys was really shitty, but forcing underage people into sexual manipulation? It really messes with people’s lives. And breaks like, tons of intergalactic laws.”

“It's unpleasant to think about,” she agreed. “And not something I want to reflect upon too closely. So, Quill, what would be your ideal girlfriend?”

Peter blinked. He had expected her to turn the question back around on him as she had done before, but maybe Gamora thought he had been in relationships. Maybe she thought Carol was a fluke, a bad experience, among a string of girlfriends. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed in her assumptions.

“Super hot,” he began, and she was already rolling her eyes in displeasure. “Funny. Thinks I’m funny. Likes the same kind of music and movies. A good dancer, someone who doesn't take themselves too seriously, you know?”

“You sound like you're attempting to describe yourself and failing, aside from the last bit,” she teased, absorbing the new information. Of course he wanted a girlfriend who liked dancing.

“Hey,” he chuckled. “And, uh, the thing with the kid. That was...really cool. Do you like kids, want to have kids?”

“Groot is an ideal child. He says three words and requires little assistance,” Gamora said, eliciting another laugh from Peter. “I don’t necessarily like children more than adults, though they tend to be more honest. And I don't think I'd ever considered children a possibility, even now. I don't find parenthood sustainable in our line of work, though I know some people can prove me wrong.”

“Smart,” Peter nodded. “I love kids, but they'd definitely be difficult to handle when we have to jet off across the galaxy all the time. I’d have to find the right person to share that experience with.”

Gamora twisted at her rings again - it was a relatively innocent habit that would never leave her muscle memory - and thought over her last question of the day. “Who is your favourite person at school? Student, faculty, whichever.”

“Thought it was obvious,” Peter said. “Who else gets the honour of being my best friend?”

“Follow-up question then,” she countered, trying not to smile too hard, “why am I your best friend?”

“It’s not really a specific thing that makes you my best friend, although the fact we have to spend a lot of time together covers a lot of it,” he said thoughtfully. “I mean, you’re really asking why I like you. You’re cool, and smart, and as it turns out, really interesting to talk to. That’s not what I would’ve thought when we first met, you were the strong silent type back at the Conservatory. But you’ve opened up a lot in the past year, and you’ve been there for me the way that I hope I’m there for you, and I just...you’re my best friend, I dunno. That’s a really terrible way to end what was supposed to be a heartfelt speech, wasn’t it?” he laughed, shaking his head.

“Hardly your worst,” Gamora allowed. “Janet is requesting another selfie, and I have an idea. Just trust me.”

Peter pursed his lips and shrugged, allowing her to lead him to a particular area of the park, stopping them in the middle of a pathway, Her arm wound across his back, their heads close together, she held up her phone and adjusted the angle for a few moments before she seemed satisfied. “You're taking a while, what’s going on - mmf!”

Gamora had kissed him.

He heard the click of her camera, along with that of many other people who were nearby, whispering to each other about it being “that couple from the freaking Guardians of the Galaxy!”, but all he could feel was her mouth against his. Her lips were rougher than that of the other girls he'd kissed - she wasn't wearing makeup, so they lacked the tacky texture of lipgloss or smoothness of lipstick - and she tended to bite her lips in concentration, especially during battle. It lasted for but a moment, as she took a few quick shots before pulling away. She smiled up at him, pleased, and handed him the phone.

It was well composed, something Gamora had clearly picked up from Janet. Their arms wrapped around each other in a possessive manner, smiling into the kiss, and behind them, a beautiful view of the gardens with a glimpse of the skyline, and in the upper left-hand corner, a specific plaque:

“What's in a name?

That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet.

Romeo and Juliet, ii, 2.”

“I like it,” Peter said, his voice hoarse as if he'd been talking for hours. “Even Instagram-worthy.”

She grinned wider and took his hand again. “I'm glad you think so.”

______

The pair returned to their hotel room at what felt like the witching hour, exhaustion settling deep into their bones. Peter was much more drained than Gamora, nearly falling asleep standing up as he brushed his teeth, but she felt oddly melancholy after the show. Musicals were not her thing, though she would never tell Peter that she didn’t actually mind Footloose, but the thought of being trapped in time for years with no one who could help you felt rather claustrophobic.

She changed into her sleep clothes with little regard for Peter standing nearby - she had long stopped pretending there was any pretense of privacy when it came to being a Guardian - and flung herself down on the bed, arms spread. “You’re gonna have to give me more room than that,” Peter teased, though he was so tired that it felt like his tongue was interfering with his ability to enunciate, causing his words to slur together.

Gamora rolled a little bit, blinking up at him with an uncharacteristic sense of innocence, and he felt his heart beat a little faster at the sight of her like this. She was in an oversized T-shirt and gym shorts, her dark red hair spilling out of its hastily-done topknot. He could still see remnants of injuries spelling out her history across her body, including the slightest of scarring on her thigh where the glass had sliced through her just a week ago. There was a softness to her face, her jaw more relaxed than usual, her eyes not as fierce as they always were. Peter hoped it was a sign of comfort around him, and not just because she was tired.

“Is that one of your favourite films you’ve seen since coming back to Terra?” she asked sleepily. He climbed in next to her before he did something stupid, like lean in closer. “I think I’ve heard you talk more about this one than any of the others that people have recommended to you.”

“It’s a classic,” Peter said, allowing his head to drop onto the pillow, though he angled himself so he could watch Gamora’s face as her eyes drifted shut. “It’s got humour, it’s got romance, and dancing...what’s not to like?”

“Is dancing that common on this planet? I swear I’ve never seen people so obsessed,” she said, involuntarily letting out a snort. “Or maybe it’s just you and all the films you’ve shown me.”

Peter hummed. “You don’t know the one, who dreams of you at ni-i-ight,” he sang softly, chuckling more to himself than to Gamora. “Dancing is awesome, okay? It’s something that anyone can do, whether they’re good or bad at it, it brings people together, and you can do it with someone you love or someone you never met before. I mean, how many activities can you say do the same thing?”

“Every context I’ve seen has been for courtship,” Gamora replied. “So it’s something that couples do?”

“Sure.” He shrugged, though since he was lying down, all it really did was shift the bedsheets around, causing Gamora to huff and smack his arm with a pillow. “I’d imagine like, me and my girlfriend - my actual girlfriend, who exists out there somewhere - would totally love dancing. She could quote all the movies that we watch together. Hell, she could recite them forwards and backwards from memory. Wouldn’t that be super cool?”

Gamora fell silent for a moment, choosing not to respond. Then she glanced over at the clock. “Hey, Quill,” she murmured, her voice so low that he had to shuffle himself closer, their noses nearly touching. “It’s midnight. Today is tomorrow.”

a/n: “my actual girlfriend” peter pls she’s right next to you ok

some random links:

peter and gamora’s outfits

the version of the song playing during the proposal

the plaque in their kissing photo

the movie scene gamora quoted to peter (i see you, girl)

[trojanjean]

i dream, i dream, i dream

i’ve been tired and disconnected for a long time now and i wrote this in my sleep-deprived state, because i need the comfort and the peace and the sleep. written mostly to @happydraco, who’s sleeping right next to me when i wake up several times a night and who manages to calm me down every single time. i don’t know if i want to publish this in ao3 so i’m putting it here to see what happens

Yuuri loved sleeping with Viktor.

No, not like that.

Well, yes, that too - but right now he was talking about actual sleeping.

Usually - or, what usual had been for him before he'd moved in with Viktor - he’d slept throughout the night, falling asleep no matter where he was, and waking up, groaning, five minutes before his alarm.

But now, he slept more lightly. Someone might say it's a bad thing. Viktor as his coach, for one.  But it gave Yuuri a feeling of calmness.

Let him explain.

Viktor's bed was a massive thing. It was like the best hotel room bed Yuuri had ever slept it, only better. The mattress was some sort of soft memory foam with a cooling top that made you think you slept on a cloud. The beddings were heavenly too - fluffy pillows and duvets that weren’t heavy at all despite the fact that they were huge. It was easy to cocoon yourself in them.

The windows had proper roll-down, blackout curtains, and not even a slice of light was able to come through those curtains. At first, it had actually been a bit overwhelming to Yuuri, who had been used to sleeping in dim light, but never in complete darkness, always hearing the distant noises of their family home from the corridor and later, in Detroit, the bubbly voices of his dorm mates.

Yuuri had never particularly liked nights. He loved sleeping, but they always came with a generous amount of anxiousness, because sleeping meant that the next time you were conscious, it would already be tomorrow with its struggles and obstacles. It was hard to let go if you thought it like that.

That's why his current situation was unreal to him. He was calm before they went to bed, and he was calm when he woke up. That had never happened before.

Yuuri glanced at the sleeping form next to him.

It was all Viktor.

He was safe with Viktor.

Yuuri  woke up several times a night, nowadays. It was alright. He felt always content, joints and muscles a little tight, but only in a way that made stretching feel really good. He was warm, in that safe, isolated nest of theirs.

Sometimes Yuuri checked the time and noticed that it was barely 1am.

It made the night feel like forever.

It was amazing.

He loved the night like this. He felt safe, content and in peace with himself - he knew tomorrow was there, and he wasn't afraid of it.

It was like - well, have you ever been camping somewhere without electricity? Pitch-dark, no phone-alarms to set up, knowing that you didn’t have to hear the traffic or look up bus schedules when you woke up? Sleeping with Viktor was like going to sleep on the first night of your holiday, knowing that had no stressful, annoying tasks ahead. 

Yuuri turned to his other side, finding Viktor’s heat easily, snuggling closer. Viktor, dead to the world, made a small sound and took Yuuri’s hand into his. Yuuri’s heart swelled, because while Viktor was impossible to wake up when he was sleeping, he always subconsciously made sure to find a way to touch Yuuri.

Sometimes, Yuuri still woke up in the middle of the night, static noise filling his brain and anxiety heating up his face, going overdrive, skin itchy and breath leaving him in a rush.

It wasn’t as scary anymore, though. He was with Viktor, and having that solid, familiar warmth next to him calmed him down.  Yuuri always scooted closer and looked at Viktor’s chest going up - and down. Up - and down.

Softly,

Softly.

And if Viktor’s heart beat so solemnly, so steadily, his face unguarded and carefree, Yuuri had nothing to worry about, right? He didn’t have to panic - or if he did, he knew he’d be fine in the end.

A funny logic, but it worked on Yuuri.

He remembered when going to sleep meant one day less with Viktor, one day closer to airports, late night voice mails and cold, unyielding longing.  A long-distance relationship had been problematic, because Yuuri hadn’t been able to tell his body to slow down and sleep when he knew that, 7400 kilometers away, Viktor was awake. 

It didn’t mean any of those things now.

Yuuri still didn’t sleep very well, he knew that. Waking up several times a night wasn’t normal. But he felt more grounded, more safe than he’d felt in a long, long time. He didn’t even want to sleep throughout the night, right now. He wanted to wake up five, ten, twenty times a night, just to realise that he was right where he was supposed to be - in Viktor’s arms.

[spencerreidsmiles]

Spencer’s Fury

Written by: spencerreidsmiles

My first Ralvez fic! Thanks to @zugzwangxo for making me really ship Reid and Alvez now... I hope you enjoy!

Send asks, requests, and feedback!

Trigger Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1130

MASTERLIST

Dr. Spencer Reid had to admit something. He despised the new agent. Agent Luke Alvez. Even the name made him shudder. He knew that it was extraordinarily absurd and irrational. Luke hadn’t done anything wrong. He was actually quite nice. But Spencer just hated him.

There wasn’t any real good reason; it was just that whenever Spencer saw Luke, his blood boiled, his face got all flushed, and his skin tingled. He’d never quite felt this way before. These sensations bothered him so much that he could barely even look at Luke anymore.

But of course, as fate and luck would have it, Emily had put him and Luke in the same hotel room together. Unfortunately, the budget was tight this quarter, so everyone was sharing rooms. Even Rossi and Walker were sharing a room, which Rossi was very unpleased by.

Unluckily for Spencer, all of the rooms had at least two beds…except for his room. One bed. And one very small couch. Spencer almost asked Walker to trade rooms with him, but his anxiety got the better of him.

It was fine though. Spencer would just sleep at the precinct. He had work to do anyway.

The case was rough. Fourteen kids all from one small town. All disappeared and sold on the human trafficking market. God, these kinds of cases really got to Spencer. The kind of people who destroyed other people’s lives just for their own benefit. And children, nonetheless.

And even worse, he had had to spend the whole day with Luke. Today was just one of those days that Spencer wished he could have just slept through or pretended hadn’t happened.

He just couldn’t handle today. He needed a drink.

Spencer walked over to the hotel bar and decided to shoot down a glass of gin. He didn’t exactly know why. He knew he couldn’t hold liquor well. He got drunk after a glass of champagne.

He was on his third glass when Luke came into the bar. He had this frantic look on his face, which turned to relief after he spotted Spencer. Spencer rolled his eyes and went back to his drinks.

“Reid! I’ve been looking for you all night and I’ve been calling you! Why didn’t you pick up?” Luke exclaimed. He was holding up his phone and plopped down onto the barstool next to him. “God, you smell like alcohol already.”

“Why do you even care, Alvez?” Spencer slurred. The alcohol was really starting to get to him. When he drank, Spencer got extremely honest, bordering on cruel.

“Why do I care? You’re my partner, Reid. You’re a part of the team! And besides, you’re not supposed to be drinking on the job,” Luke fired back. He slid the iced glass away from the drunkard and told the bartender to stop sending him drinks.

“Stop it, Alvez. We’re not friends.”

“Okay, Reid, let’s get you to bed,” Luke said steadily. He helped the doctor to his feet and allowed him to lean on his shoulder.

“Stop patronizing me. I’m not a child,” Spencer whined. His head bobbed back with exhaustion onto Luke’s shoulder.

Luke walked in silence to the elevator, Spencer stubbornly attempting to go back to the bar. He was eventually pulled into the hotel room due to his lack of strength on comparison to Luke. He sat on the bed in a childish rebellion.

“What were you thinking, Reid?” Luke asked solemnly. It was such a controlling sounding voice. He wasn't Roxy, Luke’s dog, he was a person who deserved better than to be treated like a mutt.

“Come on, Alvez, you don’t actually care. Just let me go to bed and try to get rid of hangover before it even starts,” Reid grumbled.

“Reid-” Luke began again. He was utterly determined to get something out of Spencer.

“Shut up! I don’t need your help, I don’t need anything from you!” Reid exploded. He was just so fed up. The emotions from this day, this week, all of these weeks that he had to suffer with Alvez near him were just bubbling right up like lava inside of an active volcano.

“Why are you acting like this, Reid?” Poor Luke was just trying to make sense of all of the things that Reid was shouting while also attempting to calm him down so they wouldn’t be kicked out of the hotel.

Reid leapt off the bed in a frantic frenzy. “Why? Because you make me feel these...things! I can’t even look at you, it makes my blood boil!”

He was inches away from Luke now, close enough to be breathing down his neck.

“You are so goddamn frustrating. You just don't know when to quit.”

Spencer had his arms pinned against the wall in between Luke so that all he could see was Spencer’s fury filling his eyes. Spencer just wanted to punch his stupid brown eyes and slap his stupid face and-

Spencer stepped in closer to Luke and kissed his stupid lips, turning that hateful fury into an undeniable chemistry.

After they finally parted, Luke looked up at Spencer, the surprised look fading into a clever amused one.

“I thought you said you couldn’t even stand to look at me,” Luke murmured under his breath. His gaze was still fixated on Spencer.

“I...thought I couldn’t,” Spencer stammered. Even he was shocked. Was the kiss even voluntary or was the kiss so wanted that it had become involuntary? “I never could've imagined that this hatred was really just me liking you a lot.”

“You know, I actually requested to be roomed with you this time,” Luke pointed out.

“Did you request a room with one bed, too?”

“No,” Luke laughed. “That was all Emily. She's really good at reading people. I guess that’s why she’s the boss.”

Spencer laughed loudly, stumbling backwards. Luke caught him and placed his hand on the small of Spencer’s back.

“Whoa there. You really are a lightweight, aren’t you? You had, what, two bourbons?” Luke teased.

“Actually, they were gins,” Spencer answered, giggling. The honesty stage of his drunkenness was fading, which meant that he would just start giggling uncontrollably now.

“Okay, let's get you to bed now.” Spencer allowed himself to flop into Luke’s arms so that Luke could plop him onto the bed. As Spencer landed onto the fluffy mattress, he curled up instantly with a little smile.

Spencer couldn’t see, but Luke had a gigantic smile on his face. He filled a glass of water and placed it onto the bedside table with a box of aspirins for when Spencer inevitably woke up with a pounding hangover. Luke almost wished that Spencer wouldn’t remember this in the morning, so that they could relive their first kiss tomorrow morning.

@hanny-bananny