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“This cannot be fucking happening right now.”
“I dunno~ I think it’s sort of neat, truly a brand new experience!”
It’s a strange thing, he has to admit. Their last mission had taken them to somewhere right smack in the middle of a district; too far to comfortably get back to Mephistopheles in a night’s time. And the trip had become somewhat of a “more than one-day” ordeal, so Dante had proposed spending a night in a motel as opposed to trudging all the way back when they wouldn’t have even made it in the first place. It’s not as if there were any other options that sounded better, so all of the sinners mustered up as much enthusiasm as they could.
Though, of course, that sense of false excitement only lasted until they realized that many of the inns had been overbooked for the night, and the only one they managed to get didn’t have enough rooms for all of them to get their own. And Dante turned slowly and looked at them, and while they didn’t say much of anything, their nervous ticking was all the group really needed to hear. Do you all mind sharing rooms? was the resonating thought, and as much as Heathcliff wanted to scream yes , he would, unfortunately, prefer sleeping on a bed with someone else to lying out on the street by himself.
But, didn’t everyone pair up too fast? What’s with that—it’s like everyone else somehow already had an idea of who they wanted to room with already; how is that even possible? And no one came by to ask him, either—isn’t that just insulting?! But when the dust cleared, only he and Hong Lu were left standing alone in the lobby. And Heathcliff was ready to walk out right then and there, but Hong Lu grabbed his hands and said, “I guess we’re roomies now!”, and then what the fuck was Heathcliff supposed to do? Not go with him? Please.
Well, in any case, it’s gonna be a long night.
After unlocking the door and walking in, Hong Lu shrugs off his coat and hangs it up on one of the wall tags as Heathcliff stares at the one bed in the center of the room. And it wasn’t a large bed, mind you, just a dingy little twin-sized thing that the two of them surely wouldn’t both fit in unless they were pressed up real close. So it was either one of them took the floor ( how do you have a motel room without any chairs in it that you can push together to macgyver yourself a bed? ), or…well, that’s a little much, innit? “What the hell are you going on about?” he says to Hong Lu, incredulously.
“Oh, well~” Hong Lu hums, placing a finger against his chin. “I’ve never slept in bed with another man before, so it’s a new experience for me, at least!” he smiles, clasping his hands together. “Though, I suppose I don’t really have much knowledge in this regard at all, to begin with—is this all actually quite normal? Heathcliff, how many men have you slept with?”
“None—” Heathcliff says through gritted teeth. “And, I know what you’re trying to say, but you cannot phrase it like that ever again, got it?”
“Huh? But why?”
“Just trust me on this one.”
Hong Lu stares at him for a moment, before closing his eyes and shrugging. “Well, I don’t quite understand it, but I guess you must be pretty well-versed in the subject then—I won’t push it,” he says before opening the door to the bathroom for one second and then swiftly slamming it shut. He turns to Heathcliff, smiling gently. “Hmm, don’t go in there,” he says, before heading over to the bed and reaching up to untie his hair ribbon.
“Why, what’s in there?” Heathcliff questions, raising an eyebrow.
“Just trust me on this one~”
Heathcliff wants to throttle him, just a little bit, but he holds himself back because if he was going to be forced to share a bed with another guy, he’d much prefer that person to be alive than dead ( can you imagine rolling over in the middle of the night to see cold eyes staring back at you and boring through your skull? yeah, no thanks. heathcliff has had enough of horror movies ). “Haah, cheeky little bastard…” he mutters as Hong Lu lets down his hair, although nothing appears to have changed very much about it.
The other man glances back at him for a moment, before ruffling through his bag ( did he always have something like that? ) and pulling out various items and garments. “It’s dreadful that I’ll have to skip my nightly routine—and I doubt these pillows have been washed very well, oh, my poor face—though, I suppose I can just be extra thorough in the morning…” he mumbles under his breath as he begins to unbutton his top.
“Guh,” Heathcliff makes a noise that he didn’t intend to, before sitting on the edge of the bed and facing away from Hong Lu. “Can you warn a guy before you start undressing in front of him? You have no shame, or what?”
Heathcliff hears some shuffling behind him followed by fabric hitting the floor, so he guesses not. “Is there a problem? The two of us are men, no?” Hong Lu says, like that’s the issue here or something. “Or, am I simply too attractive?” he hums, and the other man nearly doubles over in surprise, coughing. “I apologize, Heathcliff, but since the action is already in motion, I’ll keep your tastes in mind for next time~” he chimes, and Heathcliff is confident he can hear the smile that must be growing on his face.
“That’s not the issue at all!” he shouts, nearly turning around to do so but quickly remembering what sort of situation he’s in before stopping himself midway. “But, I mean, changing in front of someone else—isn’t that something you’re only supposed to do with people you really like?” he grumbles, not quite used to expressing himself in this way.
“But I do really like you.”
“Ugh, not what I meant. You really like everyone, don’t you?”
“Oh, well, if that’s what you think, then there shouldn’t be any problems then, right?” Hong Lu says. “And what do you propose I do instead? Wait in the bathroom? Well, you could do that, but like I said, I don’t recommend it…” he trails off, before making a small noise of satisfaction. “Well, I’m finished, anyways! You can look as much as you want now~” he continues, and Heathcliff has half a mind to not take him up on that offer since for all he knows Hong Lu could be lying right through his teeth. But then, he thinks about it for like one more second and, no, Hong Lu probably wouldn’t do that, so he turns around and stares blatantly.
“…where did that come from?” Heathcliff says, staring at Hong Lu’s silk robes and absolutely nothing else.
“Hmm? What do you mean?” Hong Lu says in turn, gingerly patting down the bed to make sure of…something…before deciding that it should be fine and lying down. “Silk is the best material to wear to bed, of course; it would be awful to wake up in the morning with any sort of chafing…” he fake weeps, before rolling over and attempting to fluff up the pillow. “My word, these things are simply awful—”
“Argh, are you acting like this on purpose, or what?!” Heathcliff suddenly shouts, before flopping down on the bed next to Hong Lu, stretching his arms behind his head and huffing. “Seriously, if there was a competition for ‘most words misinterpreted at once’, a daft bloke like you would be clear in the running for the champion.”
“Oh, my word! Do I get a prize?”
“…mate.”
“Oh, no thank you, I’m alright~”
“Hong Lu, what the hell are you talking about?” Heathcliff says, staring directly at his face and not daring to look any further down. The two of them lie there for a couple of weird and awkward minutes before Hong Lu tilts his head to the side and looks down just a bit. “…what?” Heathcliff says, a lump suddenly growing in his throat from who knows where.
“Well, aren’t you going to get ready for bed, as well?” Hong Lu hums, reaching out and tugging at Heathcliff’s chest harness. “It does well to accentuate your good features while we’re out and about, but I can’t imagine that it makes a comfortable resting outfit…”
“…what do you mean by my ‘good features’?”
“Why, your well-muscled chest, of course!” Hong Lu chirps, closing his eyes and smiling as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “I mean, it really shows how strong and well-built you are, and if we weren’t always in the midst of battle, I don’t think I could stop myself from staring,” he smiles, and Heathcliff is honestly lost for words but he’s gotta say something , stop this whole thing somehow.
“Hong Lu. Hong Lu ,” Heathcliff says, grabbing his shoulders desperately. “Can you please, chill out, for like one second? I am begging you here, mate.”
“Hm? Whatever do you mean?” he asks, batting his eyelashes and touching Heathcliff’s wrists. “Oh, is it that you sleep naked, or something? Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind or anything. It’s not like I haven’t seen anything like that, before.”
Heathcliff groans and flops back down on the bed, certain that nothing he says is going to get through the other man’s thick head, and he wonders for a second if maybe Hong Lu is messing with him or something, but honestly, he’s just too knackered to give any more thought to it right now. “Whatever. Whatever,” he repeats, unclasping the harness and unceremoniously dropping it somewhere on the floor near him. “You happy now?”
“Very,” Hong Lu giggles, and Heathcliff doesn’t say anything as he settles down on the bed. It’s almost embarrassing how he feels more at home here than in his own room back at the bus—like, he knows it’s supposed to conform to whatever he’s thinking about or something like that, but does it have to conform that much? Surely it could have just built him a bed and left him to it, but no, there’s always gotta be trauma involved in these stupid things somehow. So, lying in a dingy motel room with Hong Lu next to him—that’s already heaps better than the alternative, no? Well, he doesn’t know for sure, but he’d like to think it anyways.
“Y’know, when we’re only stopping for a quick rest, I never see you busting that number out. Bus seats not comfy enough for you?”
“Hmm, well, it’s more of a laying down ensemble, don’t you think?” Hong Lu murmurs, placing a hand against his collarbone. “Well, you wouldn’t dress down to sleep in front of everyone else unclothed, would you?”
“I hardly think that’s the same thing.”
“Well, it’s the same thing to me—” Hong Lu begins, rolling over onto his side facing away and burying his face into one of the pillows, throwing his leg over and gripping it tightly. “Hmm, I don’t know if it’s like this for everyone else, but I’ve always felt that it wouldn’t be right to let just anyone see how you are when you sleep. It’s a bit private, no?”
“Huuh, then why are you acting so casual about it in front of me?”
Hong Lu doesn’t move, nor does he answer the question, and Heathcliff’s face turns red as he faces away in turn. “Well, who cares about any of that, anyways? Fucking stupid. I’m going to bed—don’t be a bother,” he grumbles, reaching down and pulling the covers up over himself. From the silence, he would have guessed that Hong Lu had somehow already fallen asleep—and he wouldn’t put it past him either; with how often the man complains about early rising and whatnot, surely he had the capabilities of getting to bed anywhere and anytime he wanted. It’s an odd ending, perhaps, but god help him if he turns around to ask him again after he had just declared his desire to be left alone for the night. So, he curls up in a strange position and tries to lull himself into something he hopes will be a peaceful rest.
He’s fucking trapped. Who could have foreseen that?
It was the middle of the night and for whatever reason, he had been startled out of his slumber by nothing that comes to mind. This is normal for him, for the most part; a nightmare jolting him awake when he can barely remember what it was upon opening his eyes. And if it was enough to shake him, surely he was better off not remembering. What is not normal is having another man’s head on his chest with his legs tangled up in his own. He moves a bit, though not very far, as his limbs have been restricted through the chains of having someone else laying on top of them. Someone with no pants on. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding him.
“Fuck,” he says out loud because he knows Hong Lu won’t wake up from it anyways. This is bad, very bad—weren’t they facing away from each other when they started sleeping? He should have planned this better. He should have put a pillow between them. He should have offered to sleep on the floor. But that was then and this is now—what the hell is he gonna do? “Hong Lu,” he grumbles, trying to move his closer arm but finding it held firmly in place by his bedmate’s hug. “ Hong Lu ,” he says again, using his other arm to poke his cheek. No consciousness was returned, but he did make a stupid noise and snuggled closer into his side, so actually he was making it worse. “Why the hell do you sleep like a fucking log…” he sighs, wondering if maybe he should just smack him or something, but against his better nature, he sort of…doesn’t want to do that?
It’s weird because in any other circumstance, and with any other person, Heathcliff is pretty sure he would have launched them across the room in an instant; even more with another sinner, since the bloody pulp he could beat them into would be set back all fine and dandy again next morning—and it’s not like he’s in the bus right now, so he wouldn’t even get in any trouble for it, except for maybe a backhanded glance, but he’s used to getting those regardless of what he’s done. He’d wipe his hands of the whole ordeal, and he’d even get the whole bed to himself for the night—he couldn’t possibly lose, right?
And yet, somehow, when he’s lying here and staring up at the cracking ceiling on a bed that isn’t particularly comfortable, he feels better than he’s ever felt in a long while. And Hong Lu being wrapped around him like this may be part of it—is it strange to feel that way about someone who you’re not particularly close to? He tries, just one more time, reaching up and patting the man’s face a little harder ( though, he admits that his efforts weren’t particularly hard ). “Get off of me…” he sighs, but he hopes that his false pleas go unheard anyhow.
And Hong Lu shifts as if maybe he sensed something, but all he does is make another pleased noise before pressing his cheek a little harder into Heathcliff’s hand, who takes this as a sign that yup, maybe this is all just supposed to be happening right now and he should just deal with it. Or, maybe it’s just a dream, and when he wakes up everything will go back to normal and the two of them will never have to talk about this. Or, hell, maybe somehow Hong Lu will wake up before him in the morning ( he doesn’t think that’s actually possible, but hypotheticals are hypotheticals ), see what’s going on, and then go “oh golly gazeebus” or something and move away to pretend like it didn’t even happen in the first place. He doesn’t know, but honestly, he doesn’t care all that much because he’s still really fucking tired and Hong Lu’s arms are really warm and nice around him.
He thinks for a little bit when the last time he had a night like this was. Certainly not in the bus, since they’re all left alone to their fucked up thoughts in there ( which usually doesn’t result in a good time. unless you’re, like, weird, and he can think of a couple of people up there who would probably enjoy stewing in their trauma, but that’s not the point ), and going back too far would be…really bad, so he settles on never. Heathcliff had never had a night like this, where he felt content with where he was for no reason in particular. And, he doesn’t know, maybe he should invite Hong Lu back to his room more often. If sleep is something you should be comfortable with, then maybe it’s easiest to be comfortable in the presence of others. Or, at least, in the presence of Hong Lu, who just generally has that sort of effect on people as Heathcliff has come to realize through getting to know him better.
Hong Lu moves in again, just a little bit closer, and Heathcliff snakes his confined arm out to return the hug in some manner; badly, but like, he’s doing his best given their positions. Maybe they’re tangled up a bit, and the back pain is gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning, but this is probably the best game of twister that Heathcliff has ever played.
Also, he’s decided that he likes the feeling of silk against him, whether it’s the actual fabric in question or just like weirdly soft skin. He thinks, maybe, that if it feels so nice, Hong Lu should wear stuff like this more often. And if they’re ever sleeping together again, he’ll just consider it a bonus prize.
So like, fuck it man, he’s going to get his good night’s sleep no matter what decides to stand in his way. And if that obstacle was going to be some hot guy’s incessant hugging, then so be it.
He must have been sleep deprived. That’s all it was, yeah?
Heathcliff finds himself waking up from what might have been the best sleep of his entire goddamned life, and he stretches back before seeing that Hong Lu was, indeed, still in his arms. Slept through the entire ordeal like the fucking princess he was. Sunlight streams in, somehow, through the dirty window and shines itself over the sleeping man, and for a moment Heathcliff is mesmerized because do people actually look this good in their sleep? Does he look like that while he’s sleeping? He’s sure that he doesn’t, not like that anyways, but he can’t help but wonder if that’s what Hong Lu would see him as had he been the type of person to wake up first. Maybe it’s a trait that comes with being a late sleeper. Or maybe Hong Lu is just naturally a sleeping beauty, who knows?
But, through rested bones and fresh eyes, Heathcliff finally finds it in him to get a little shy about the whole thing ( I mean, did you hear what the hell he was thinking about upon just waking up, first thing in the morning? he guesses that now he at least has a clear answer to the question, “have you ever slept with another man?” ), and he sits up, dragging Hong Lu with him.
“Oh—” Hong Lu says, slowly opening his eyes as he blinks, looking around the room in a sort of tired daze before meeting Heathcliff’s eyes. “…morning,” he mumbles, trying to shake the sleep out and slowly untangling himself from the other man’s limbs ( and Heathcliff immediately misses the touch upon his skin, but he doesn’t dare to say anything about it. it would be weird to ask him to come back ). “Golly, what a night…better than I expected, though I have to admit, my neck is all out of sorts…” he yawns, rubbing his eyes before turning to the clock on the bedside table. “What time is it—6 AM?! Oh, lord, no thank you…” he murmurs, flopping back down onto the pillows and pulling the covers up over himself.
“…you’re not even gonna say anything?” Heathcliff says, incredulously, and maybe a little miffed.
“Well, 6 AM is a little much, especially for me…I can’t get up before 9 AM, minimum, or I’ll be missing out on my precious beauty sleep…”
“Gaah, you know that’s not what I’m talking about…”
“Oh…well, what’s there to say?” Hong Lu sighs dreamily as he hugs the nearby pillow in a similar manner to the way he was all over Heathcliff the previous night. “I mean, in my eyes, you enjoyed it well enough, and you ended up having a good rest, didn’t you? So, there doesn’t seem to be any problems—at least, none that I can clearly point out~”
“What—were you—” Heathcliff starts, raising his voice a bit before Hong Lu cuts him off with a wave of his hand.
“Ahh, I’m still so sleepy…golly, you’re really such an early bird, aren’t you? But, that’s not the life for me, so…good night Heathcliff~” Hong Lu yawns, before closing his eyes and returning to slumberland, ignoring any of Heathcliff’s further attempts to shake him back awake. And not for lack of trying, but that man was damn good at being annoying, like he had a fucking talent for it or something.
“Blimey…you little…” Heathcliff grits his teeth before throwing his hands up in exasperation. It’s early in the morning, even a little much for him, but that was the purpose of getting up now, right? He had finally managed to escape from his trap, so he should be reveling in his newfound freedom as much as possible. “Ah, to hell with it. I’m heading out for breakfast, so don’t do anything stupid while I’m out,” he grumbles as he steps out of the bed, cracking his back into its normal place before slipping his shoes back on. “Though, I guess I shouldn’t expect that much from someone like you,” he sighs, picking up his bat ( shouldn’t go anywhere without that. not even to enjoy a delicious breakfast ) and walking over to the door.
Hong Lu giggles from under the covers, even though he’s supposed to be pretending to be asleep. “Save something for me…” he calls out, with a light lilt in the back of his throat, and Heathcliff has half a mind to get back over there and carry him off of the damned bed himself, but he stops himself because actually, he remembers they don’t have that sort of relationship. So he just scoffs and leaves the room.
Although, Heathcliff finds himself standing in the hallway outside of their closed door for a little longer than he ought to be. He’d be going down in a minute, of course—can’t beat a motel breakfast in the morning, especially at a time when no one who’d be too much of a pain to deal with would also be up—but, he turns around and stares at the room. Maybe he’s still running on a lack of sleep—surely, just one good night can’t possibly make up for months of damage. But, he guesses that just means he’ll have to work harder to have more good nights in the future.
“…sweet dreams,” he says quietly, and there was no one around who could have possibly heard him anyways, but he’s treating this like some sort of scandalous confession or something. But he shakes his head, because he’s satisfied with leaving it at this, before he moves to head out.