orin likes things

Quickly, you help him out into the hallway away from prying eyes. You’re his wrangler, you take him where he needs to go and see to his needs now that he’s a bona fide star. Falling for him wasn’t a part of the plan, but you are a sucker for quirky little guys, aren’t you? Especially those of the spooky variety.

“Danhausen doesn’t need your help; he is strong enough to walk on his own two feet.” He mumbles through heavy pants, his lips now at your cheek.

“You can’t even stand up straight, my guy.” You run you fingers through his hair and you feel his gasp, how his body goes rigid then relaxes against you.

“I am very strong. Very can walk himself back, thank you.”

You don’t even bother arguing; instead, you shift your grip to tuck one hand beneath his knees and the other under his back and haul him into your arms. He gives a surprised yelp, his arms flying up into the air before settling around your neck. His eyes blink wildly, then settle on you.

“You’re heavier than you look,” you tease with a smile. Danhausen groans and rests a cheek against your shoulder. His eyes are half-lidded, their brightness dimmed by the exhaustion that settles in his bones. He’s giving in and you couldn’t be more pleased.

The walk to his dressing room feels long because of the gremlin-bat-man in your arms. He is heavy, all hard muscle beneath the comfortable softness of him. You struggle to get him to the end of the journey, but you don’t bring any attention to it because he’s so worn out, nearly sleeping in your arms. It’s not often you see him this peaceful.

You slip into the quiet sanctuary of his dressing room, shutting the door with your foot. Laying him down on the sofa, his hands linger on your shoulders. Your breath catches, and he squeezes you, pulling you down slightly with him. He looks up at you with heavy lids, and his usual grin is replaced by a soft, sleepy pout. He looks small.