"I mainly think it's funny, but, well, I won't be the only one he's aggressively sleeping on?" Despite Hux's confidence he's a little shy of the subject. Like if he says it outright he'll have misunderstood. Irrational enough that he catches himself at it.
"He does seem set in his ways. I just an't guarantee you won't be breathing cat fur some morning." Dio just doesn't strike him as a respecter of real estate.
"S-sometimes. Nightmares, I mean." When he actually sleeps rather than knock himself out with bourbon or wander the halls all night. "I don't think it's, well, um, obvious. I mean, a problem for you. But I guess I wouldn't know if I thrash around. It's like knowing if you snore. Which I don't. Well, I didn't a few years ago, anyway, I guess it could have changed?"
"I just, you know, asked for... I can't take credit when..." This isn't
quite Bodhi's usual nervous stammer. He's not cutting himself off so much
as loosing threads to float off into nothing, preoccupied. There's
something about seeing Hux stretched out in their--in a bed they intend to
share. It's short circuiting anything else he tries to think about.
He knows better than to suggest out loud that the concept of cuteness and the personage of Armitage Hux have anything to do with each other. Just one more thought to tuck away in a little twist of a flustered smile. The end of his ponytail twists between his fingers as he tries to figure out what amount of looking is weird. "That's... handy. Little creepy, but... Um, can't argue with the results."
Bodhi finally quits hovering and sits down on the edge of the bed, still careful, though he's not sure what of. They're both here now, but it doesn't quite feel real yet. "If we work together, I bet we can, um, reconcile ourselves to the hedonism of... sleeping on a mattress."
Bodhi turns to look at him, still a bit stiff but feeling better that at least Hux isn't watching him behave like an idiot. "Maybe that's the ultimate luxury. Forgetting the rarity for a while." He's still babbling though, good.
Bodhi moves slowly because he's tempted to do quite the opposite. He'd
always sort of assumed that only people in tawdry novels threw themselves
at each other. A refuge in cliche for mediocre prose about not quite real
feelings. But he'd like to now. Instead he stretches out next to Hux and
honestly just means to take his hand. The sharp, tight, clinging hug is
unplanned.
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"Define 'aggressive sleeping'." He asks.
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"I find him on my face when I wake up all the time." Might be plotting to smother him. Probably not. Too much trouble.
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"Some chewing, but no, I think you're right about him just establishing a hierarchy."
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"Obviously he's going to still want to sleep on your face. You're his favorite and Huck has already claimed my body for warmth in the night."
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"Do you have nightmares? Sleep apnea? Any odd nighttime behavior I should be made aware of?"
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"I don't know if I do or not either. It's been years since I've had to share a cabin." He admits. "How embarrassing."
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"Mildly annoying at worst," Bodhi says with the confidence of only having a private room on the barge since she seventeen.
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He turns back to the bed, and drops down onto it, back first.
"It's not intolerable, your mattress. Far better than that chair."
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"I just, you know, asked for... I can't take credit when..." This isn't quite Bodhi's usual nervous stammer. He's not cutting himself off so much as loosing threads to float off into nothing, preoccupied. There's something about seeing Hux stretched out in their--in a bed they intend to share. It's short circuiting anything else he tries to think about.
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"It's serviceable. The Admiral continues to be invasive enough to the point of memorizing the preferred mattress in my room."
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After a second he coaxes Huck up onto the bed, petting her as she sits beside him.
"Luxuries like this are...I suppose both a perk and a shameful indulgence still."
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"It's not just that. It's in a bed large enough for two, and a pet, and a warm, safe place. You don't realize how rare that is, some days."
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"Come here, lie down."
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Bodhi moves slowly because he's tempted to do quite the opposite. He'd always sort of assumed that only people in tawdry novels threw themselves at each other. A refuge in cliche for mediocre prose about not quite real feelings. But he'd like to now. Instead he stretches out next to Hux and honestly just means to take his hand. The sharp, tight, clinging hug is unplanned.
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