Fandom ain't no rest for the wicked

[arbus]

Nic threw Worick a grateful look. He propped up the blanket to serve him as a make-shift pillow and sank to his side with a sigh of relief, inaudible to his own ears. The ache in his body was bone-deep and wearying. Sleep pulled at him almost at once. When he was under, he dreamt, and his lids fluttered and the misfiring nerve endings made his limbs twitch in abrupt ghost-motions. And when the first light crept on his face he stirred, hauling himself upwards almost violently.

He looked around the room, alarmed.

Then he stared down onto his own hand, which was twisted into the fabric of Worick's sleeve. Sometime during his sleep, he must have scooted over, seeking savety in the familiarity of Worick's body heat.

Or, he thought as he let go of Worick's arm, he was like a dog, trying to protect his master even from the depth of sleep. That was certainly how his father trained him to be.

He got up, took a piss in the bathroom with the door leaning shut, and proceeded towards his katana to sling its strap over his shoulder. He was ravenously hungry. Worick probably was, too.

I'm going out, he signed. He'd have to steal something because he lost all their groceries and they were perpetually low on funds, but it was Saturday and he thought that the vendor's would have started opening their stalls on the market by now. Maybe he'd be lucky and come across one of the dealers on Second Street -- the Celebre they sold was diluted B-stock crap, but it was better than nothing. Better than to have to go and ask Monroe for a favor, too. He didn't have any money, of course. But he was horrifically hungover, and his craving had gotten bad, and that made him entirely willing to beat the living shit out of those low-lives who -- often enough -- had traded some of their stock for Worick's services.

 

[Fridoline]

Worick managed to stay awake and kind of alert throughout the remainder of the night. Part of it was thanks to Nic's fitful sleep. It wasn't as if he was constantly writhing around but he had bouts of unrest that pulled Worick's attention towards him every once in a while. The twitching and little sounds of distress displayed some gut-wrenching vulnerability that Nic himself, luckily, wasn't even aware of.

Little by little, Nic, in his skirming, scooted closer, diminishing the distance between himself and Worick. When a strong hand suddenly grabbed his arm, Worick almost startled into action from a momentary drowsy state, the sudden adrenaline spike telling him of a danger that turned out to be a mere involuntary gesture of a sleep-dreaming man. The grip slackened only a bit but otherwise Nic's fingers remained curled around the fabric of Worick's shirt sleeve. He hoped to be somewhat of an anchor for his friend in his busy sleep.

Was Nic actually dreaming about anything or was it just his nervous system craving certain chemicals? For a second Worick was tempted to soothingly card his fingers through those thick, raven locks just to take off some of the tension, but kept his hands to himself. He wouldn't want to accidentally wake Nic up and be found in such a weirdly sentimental state by him.

Later, when Nic awoke on his own, suddenly jolting into a sitting position, it starled Worick again, almost making him jump out of his skin. Well, for the time being that definitely blew off every lingering bit of tiredness.

Pragmatic as ever, Nic immediately went to the bathroom to relieve himself, foregoing washing up as it seemed in exchange for a swifter morning routine, since he'd already cleaned up last night. Worick was still wrestling with the idea that the new day had now officially started, a weird feeling when you've just been through the second half of night watch. So much for their commemorative first night in their new apartment together.

While Worick had yet to stretch his limbs and shake them out, Nic was already on the jump, katana back at his side and ready to go out. Alone. Worick stood up, a little stiffly, brushed off his wrinkled trousers with next to no effect and swiped up his eye-patch from the floor, twirling it around his finger while his thoughts were already going a mile a minute again. He didn't like the idea of Nic going out alone in his current state hours only after a serious attack on his person. Frustratingly, even in his current condition, Nic was still better off alone than with Worick trying to play the useless bodyguard. He'd be more of a liability, especially since they still didn't know a lick about the enemies' motivation.

Nic had dealt substantial damage to the unknown group the previous evening and it was unlikely that they would retaliate so early and at this hour of the day. Also, Nic hadn't exactly asked for permission, just stating his intention to leave and kindly letting Worick know. He didn't want to mother-hen him much less order Nic to stay when he felt confident to handle himself.

Worick caught the eye-patch mid-twirl in his palm and pocketed it, his good eye turning from watching his own hand movement to Nic, nodding. He didn't ask Nic where he was off to, able to come up with a couple ideas himself. Even though his gut feeling still wasn't too good about this whole thing, Worick would have to suppress his worries for the sake of progress. It wouldn't help to just stay holed up and scared all the time.

Looking at Nic though, Worick couldn't help it and shrugged dismissively to himself, knowing he wouldn't get rid of this nagging worry until he had more information. Turning around to take his turn in the bathroom, he just lifted his hand to wave off Nic behind his back, looking forward to splashing some ice-cold water into his face and actually starting the day more freshened up. Depending on whether Nic would already be back by the time he was finished or not, Worick was considering using his free time for some errands of his own. It would definitely beat waiting around like a sitting duck in their mostly empty little abode.