[Pokémon X&Y] In My Sleep I Repeat It
Dec. 14th, 2022 12:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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teamflareTitle: In My Sleep I Repeat It
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Lysandre
Rating: G
Summary: "Please stay."
Notes: Written for Writer's Month, for the prompt: scream. Title from Live It Out by Metric.
AO3 Link: Here.
No air.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't– There was something on his chest. Something had fallen over him. He was being crushed, he couldn't push it off, it was too heavy, he couldn't breathe, he was going to die, he was going to die a painful death and there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do except wait for his chest to cave in because no one would come to help.
Even so, even if it was pointless, he couldn't help it, he couldn't help opening his mouth and using the last of his strength to try–
Something touched the back of Lysandre's neck, and he gasped, opening his eyes wide, and loosened the tight grip he had on the bed sheets.
"Lysandre," someone said. They – he, it was Augustine, Augustine's voice – sounded about as exhausted as Lysandre felt. He froze, his heartbeat pounding between his ears. "Hey, it's okay."
The hand – it was a hand, not a piece of broken-off ceiling, nor a toppled-over pipe, it was a hand, warm and gentle – stroked the sweaty hair at his nape. He focused on that: the feeling of blunt nails scratching him softly, the slow rhythm, the slight dip of the mattress under him.
He could breathe. He tried it just to be sure, inhaling deeply through his nose. Nothing had fallen on top of him. The room he was in was dark because it was a bedroom at night-time and not because it was an underground building collapsing onto itself.
"Lysandre, can you hear me?" Despite how tired he obviously was, Augustine's voice betrayed no annoyance, only effortless kindness. "You're safe, honey. Everything's fine. You're alive."
"Professor," Lysandre muttered. He rolled over, carefully, to try and meet his gaze through the darkness. "Augustine. I... I'm sorry. I was..."
"It's okay," Augustine repeated. Lysandre could only guess the shape of his face, his eyes taking longer than usual to get accustomed to the lack of light, and so he couldn't even begin to decipher his expression. "You don't have to apologize. Do you need anything?"
His hand, now caressing Lysandre's jaw, was making his heart beat a little steadier.
"Do you want me to go get you some water, maybe?"
"No," Lysandre croaked. He held Augustine by the shoulders to pull him closer, and he let him, pushing his forehead against Lysandre's sternum. "Please stay."
He felt Augustine nod against him, his hair tickling his throat. He held him tighter, burying his face in the ruffled strands. He smelled like sweat and the faintest hint of Lysandre's shampoo. The scent, of home and safety, achieved to ground him.
When he blinked and glanced at the alarm clock, the numbers glowing just enough to breach through the darkness and not much else, it read 5:23. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"It's okay," Augustine mumbled somewhere between his shoulder and the side of his neck. Lysandre hummed. "Do you need me to stay awake? We can talk."
"No." Lysandre curled around him further, until their legs were intertwined and all he could breathe in or see was a forest of dark hair. "You need to be up tomorrow."
Augustine yawned, though he tried to hide it into a laugh. "Wouldn't be the first time I went to the lab having only slept for three or two hours."
"It's unhealthy. I'll be fine. Just need to feel you." He felt Augustine sigh more than he heard it. "Could you–"
"Yeah?"
"Lie on top of me," Lysandre said in one single breath. He felt better, having said it, despite how pathetic it was. Augustine would have chastised him for thinking this way, but as the fog of his nightmare was beginning to clear, he couldn't help but feel ridiculous at having been woken up from a bad dream like an overgrown child.
"Roll over."
He disentangled himself from Augustine until he was lying on his back. As soon as the other man had climbed on top of him, draping himself over his body like the world's boniest and thinnest blanket, he felt the last of his panic evaporate.
"You know, you're a lot comfier than the mattress," Augustine said with a chuckle. "If we ever get lost in the wilderness, I could just use you as an emergency bed."
Lysandre slid his hands up Augustine's back, letting them settle around his shoulders, just to make sure he would stay right where he was. "Gladly."
The soft sound of Augustine snorting was lost in-between their bodies. He shifted a bit until he was satisfied with his position, and then Lysandre felt him relax back into sleep. He closed his eyes and listened as his breathing slowed down into a quiet rhythm, only sometimes interrupted by some quick shuffling and unintelligible mumbles.
He only realized he'd fallen asleep when he woke up to something much heavier – and warmer – on his chest. As the sensation, comfortingly physical and tangible, didn't raise any alarm bells in his mind, he didn't even need to look to know that it was his pyroar, probably let in by Augustine after he'd gotten up and found him pawing at the door, anxious to check on his trainer.
"Good morning," Lysandre said, lifting one hand to feel Orléans' muzzle with his thumb. "Thank you for taking over as my weighted blanket."
The pyroar yawned in reply, and made no attempt to move. When he wanted to, he could be as tepig-headed stubborn as Lysandre – begrudgingly – knew himself to be. Had he been present, Augustine would have probably said something about being offered an excuse to sleep in, knowing full well that Lysandre would never indulge unprompted.
Of course, there could be worse things to indulge in. Not to mention, the prospect of having to deal with a vexed pile of nearly ninety kilograms of burning fur wasn't very tempting.
Judging by his closed eyes and the quiet tempo of his breathing, Orléans had already sunk back into slumber. With a short chuckle of defeat, Lysandre surrendered to his fate, throwing his head back and letting his eyelids fall back down.
With his pokémons and Augustine around to watch over him, his nightmares could only haunt him for so long.
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Lysandre
Rating: G
Summary: "Please stay."
Notes: Written for Writer's Month, for the prompt: scream. Title from Live It Out by Metric.
AO3 Link: Here.
No air.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't– There was something on his chest. Something had fallen over him. He was being crushed, he couldn't push it off, it was too heavy, he couldn't breathe, he was going to die, he was going to die a painful death and there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do except wait for his chest to cave in because no one would come to help.
Even so, even if it was pointless, he couldn't help it, he couldn't help opening his mouth and using the last of his strength to try–
Something touched the back of Lysandre's neck, and he gasped, opening his eyes wide, and loosened the tight grip he had on the bed sheets.
"Lysandre," someone said. They – he, it was Augustine, Augustine's voice – sounded about as exhausted as Lysandre felt. He froze, his heartbeat pounding between his ears. "Hey, it's okay."
The hand – it was a hand, not a piece of broken-off ceiling, nor a toppled-over pipe, it was a hand, warm and gentle – stroked the sweaty hair at his nape. He focused on that: the feeling of blunt nails scratching him softly, the slow rhythm, the slight dip of the mattress under him.
He could breathe. He tried it just to be sure, inhaling deeply through his nose. Nothing had fallen on top of him. The room he was in was dark because it was a bedroom at night-time and not because it was an underground building collapsing onto itself.
"Lysandre, can you hear me?" Despite how tired he obviously was, Augustine's voice betrayed no annoyance, only effortless kindness. "You're safe, honey. Everything's fine. You're alive."
"Professor," Lysandre muttered. He rolled over, carefully, to try and meet his gaze through the darkness. "Augustine. I... I'm sorry. I was..."
"It's okay," Augustine repeated. Lysandre could only guess the shape of his face, his eyes taking longer than usual to get accustomed to the lack of light, and so he couldn't even begin to decipher his expression. "You don't have to apologize. Do you need anything?"
His hand, now caressing Lysandre's jaw, was making his heart beat a little steadier.
"Do you want me to go get you some water, maybe?"
"No," Lysandre croaked. He held Augustine by the shoulders to pull him closer, and he let him, pushing his forehead against Lysandre's sternum. "Please stay."
He felt Augustine nod against him, his hair tickling his throat. He held him tighter, burying his face in the ruffled strands. He smelled like sweat and the faintest hint of Lysandre's shampoo. The scent, of home and safety, achieved to ground him.
When he blinked and glanced at the alarm clock, the numbers glowing just enough to breach through the darkness and not much else, it read 5:23. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"It's okay," Augustine mumbled somewhere between his shoulder and the side of his neck. Lysandre hummed. "Do you need me to stay awake? We can talk."
"No." Lysandre curled around him further, until their legs were intertwined and all he could breathe in or see was a forest of dark hair. "You need to be up tomorrow."
Augustine yawned, though he tried to hide it into a laugh. "Wouldn't be the first time I went to the lab having only slept for three or two hours."
"It's unhealthy. I'll be fine. Just need to feel you." He felt Augustine sigh more than he heard it. "Could you–"
"Yeah?"
"Lie on top of me," Lysandre said in one single breath. He felt better, having said it, despite how pathetic it was. Augustine would have chastised him for thinking this way, but as the fog of his nightmare was beginning to clear, he couldn't help but feel ridiculous at having been woken up from a bad dream like an overgrown child.
"Roll over."
He disentangled himself from Augustine until he was lying on his back. As soon as the other man had climbed on top of him, draping himself over his body like the world's boniest and thinnest blanket, he felt the last of his panic evaporate.
"You know, you're a lot comfier than the mattress," Augustine said with a chuckle. "If we ever get lost in the wilderness, I could just use you as an emergency bed."
Lysandre slid his hands up Augustine's back, letting them settle around his shoulders, just to make sure he would stay right where he was. "Gladly."
The soft sound of Augustine snorting was lost in-between their bodies. He shifted a bit until he was satisfied with his position, and then Lysandre felt him relax back into sleep. He closed his eyes and listened as his breathing slowed down into a quiet rhythm, only sometimes interrupted by some quick shuffling and unintelligible mumbles.
He only realized he'd fallen asleep when he woke up to something much heavier – and warmer – on his chest. As the sensation, comfortingly physical and tangible, didn't raise any alarm bells in his mind, he didn't even need to look to know that it was his pyroar, probably let in by Augustine after he'd gotten up and found him pawing at the door, anxious to check on his trainer.
"Good morning," Lysandre said, lifting one hand to feel Orléans' muzzle with his thumb. "Thank you for taking over as my weighted blanket."
The pyroar yawned in reply, and made no attempt to move. When he wanted to, he could be as tepig-headed stubborn as Lysandre – begrudgingly – knew himself to be. Had he been present, Augustine would have probably said something about being offered an excuse to sleep in, knowing full well that Lysandre would never indulge unprompted.
Of course, there could be worse things to indulge in. Not to mention, the prospect of having to deal with a vexed pile of nearly ninety kilograms of burning fur wasn't very tempting.
Judging by his closed eyes and the quiet tempo of his breathing, Orléans had already sunk back into slumber. With a short chuckle of defeat, Lysandre surrendered to his fate, throwing his head back and letting his eyelids fall back down.
With his pokémons and Augustine around to watch over him, his nightmares could only haunt him for so long.