[fic] Bad Dreams
//Title//: Bad Dreams
//Pairing//: Dooseob
//Rating//: PG-13, at best
//Summary//: Doojoon has bad dreams that only a certain blonde someone can appease
//Word Count//: 1,008 words, all in
//Author's Note//: This was my first attempt at writing anything for over a year - please be gentle!
Originally posted here and here.
Bad Dreams
Doojoon wakes up with a start in the middle of the night, eyes opening to blanketed darkness, a room that is familiar yet foreign in its construction, body clammy with sweat. Instinctively he looks to his right, as his chin accidentally meets with a tawny mess of blond hair. ‘
Where am I?
Then it all becomes clear. He is at home, he is safe, and his muscles release their pent-up tension. It was just a dream, he tells himself, it doesn’t matter, but despite his best efforts, he’s not convinced. It’s just a dream, it doesn’t ma-
“Doojoonie?” A familiar voice whispers in the still-new darkness, and warm hands are wrapped around his waist as sneaky, illicit kisses pepper his collarbone.
“You’re up…” he replies, voice laced with uncertainty as he reaches over to hold Yoseob, stuttering as he never does, because he’s still shaken up. “I didn’t think you’d - sorry.” The apology is out before he has time to formulate a plausible excuse.
A stifled chuckle, a reassuring squeeze - more kisses. “Stupid, stop apologizing.” Then, something else. “Are you alright, though?” Yoseob’s hushed voice is edged with concern, despite being dulled with the haziness of the newly-awoken. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, hands attempting to dispel the uneasiness from the other man’s body. “You usually sleep like a baby.”
Doojoon cannot help but chuckle at this description, and nods, pressing a preoccupied kiss to the top of Yoseob’s head before sitting up, his movements making the sheets rustle slightly. “Ya, where are you going?” Before he can even get up, Yoseob has tightened his hold around Doojoon’s waist, the curiosity in his gaze permeating through the dark.
“Only to get a drink of water,” He clears his throat to prove his point, and attempts navigating the start of the Long Walk to the Kitchen, but is stopped, not surprisingly, when the other boy places his hand flat against his chest, forcing him to lie back down before soft lips crash against his, and teeth nip playfully on his bottom lip.
For what it’s worth, Doojoon does not resist, and it isn’t long before Yoseob’s tongue is caressing his, retreating only when the other boy pulls away from the kiss, wiping his mouth with one hand. “That enough water for you?”
It is a cheeky question, which makes Doojoon laugh, and reach out to hold the other boy near again. “Hardly. Though I’m not going to say I didn’t enjoy it,” he manages a grin, and releases himself from the embrace to get up again, though this time Yoseob gets up with him.
“Here, I have some.” A water bottle is produced, somewhere from the clutter surrounding Yoseob’s bed, and dangled under his nose. “Lifesaver-” Doojoon doesn’t finish his sentence, because sheer thirst makes him reach for the bottle, downing its contents in record timing. “Um…” he says with a sheepish grin, proffering the almost-empty bottle once he’s through with it.
The other boy only shakes his head, as if to say it’s alright, putting the bottle away somewhere before hugging him again, making him lie back down, hands coaxing him back to sleep. “ It was just a bad dream, right? Nothing to worry about, right?” Yoseob continues to probe, as one hand finds its way to his chest. “Your heart’s still racing,” a thoughtful pause. “Wanna talk about it?”
This is why Yoseob is perfect, Doojoon thinks, as he finally relents with a curt nod. Yoseob is perfect, he must be. No one pushes his buttons like he does, the same way no one else can make him feel invincible yet vulnerable at the same time. “Yeah, okay. How much time have you got?” he asks with a chuckle, vaguely aware from the analog clock perched at the head of his bed that it’ll be hours yet before the sun rises, and schedule starts.
The answer, of course, is the same every time. “As long as it takes, Doojoonie.”
This is followed by an outpouring of words, an exchange of whys and, more significantly, don’t worries, which is exactly what Doojoon is like. “Yoseob-ah, don’t worry, it’s nothing, seriously, really. It’s nothing…”
“But this always happens!” This is exactly what Yoseob is like too, all inquisitive and clutching at Doojoon’s shirt, his round eyes searching the other’s face like he hopes to find some kind of answer that isn’t otherwise forthcoming.
“What’s the maaaaatter…?” Yoseob is unrelenting in his pursuit, and to be honest, it’s making it harder and harder for Doojoon to fall asleep.
“You’re the matter, happy?” the words are out before he can stop them, and he laughs at his foolishness, lips soothing the sting with chaste, affectionate kisses that make whatever he can say at this moment pale in comparison. “No, didn’t mean that, didn’t mean that...”
As always, Yoseob’s smile is forthcoming, an easy trophy to champion. “Good, I like seeing you in a tizzy,” the younger boy whispers in his ear. “Makes life so much more fun.” Despite the playfulness, there are shades of discontent in his voice.
“Why won’t you tell me about your dreams?” Yoseob, still trying.
Doojoon sighs softly, his usually strong resolve worn down. “You. You’re in my dreams,” he speaks plainly, quietly, slightly shame-facedly.
“I dream that I wake up, and you’re gone.”
There. Said it. There is a moment of burgeoning silence between them - one long, agonizing moment where Yoseob’s jaw drops, and one glance that just says everything that Doojoon could ever have needed to know.
Stupid-I’d never leave you-You’re thinking too much-I want you-I need you-Stupid-I love you.
Instead, Yoseob cups one hand around his ear, whispering, his voice hushed, his previous curiosity mysteriously quelled. “No more bad dreams, I’ll take care of them.” Those warm hands again; curving themselves against the small of his back, easing his restlessness.
Doojoon closes his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, there are no more bad dreams.