Something Something, Generational Trauma

Diva down

time travel fix-it where ruben wakes up in his bed across from niall’s in their old bedroom after dying in 1x06. and he can’t breathe because that’s his bambi right there. in bed. his bambi who hasn’t yet betrayed him. his bambi who views him as the center of the world. his bambi who is whimpering beneath the bedsheets, trying to be quiet when humping into his own hand. ruben heard him all throughout high school—niall’s never been particularly loud or particularly quiet, but ruben just knows when he’s being naughty under the blanket. and normally, he listened and tried to ignore the stiffening of his own cock. normally, he thought about making a joke. but not tonight. because he needs to see his sweet-faced bambi. his blushing, beautiful bambers who must be aching. for him. always for him. ruben doesn’t make it theatrical, just slips out of bed and turns on the bedside lamp. the rustling stops. the slick little noises cease abruptly too. niall’s breath catches, and the blanket stirs as niall freezes up. feigning sleep. pretending to be a good, sleeping boy. like he wasn’t just on the verge of moaning ruben’s name. ruben knows it must be jarring: the change in his behavior; the want to be tender; because this right here is ruben’s precious boy, the version of niall who is about to head to uni. who still blushes when ruben stares at him long enough. ruben lifts the covers and slides into niall’s bed, and gasps at the sight and warmth of him. kissing his boy everywhere. his nose, cheeks, forehead, hair (not his mouth; that might scare him). ruben’s hand is trembling when cradling niall’s tear-slick, blushing cheek. because this could change everything and maybe he should have done this all those years ago. back in high school. give his touch-starved bambers a helping hand. along with sincerity and the knowledge he can’t stand missing niall for so long. for being the reason they become estranged. for his bambers being afraid of being honest with even himself. for making his bambers feel small and insecure, and in the end, unloved. niall tries to speak, probably going to lie and say he wasn’t doing what ruben thinks he must have been, he was sleeping. but ruben knows, can smell it on him, the ache, can see the strain against the cloth between his drawn up knees. and he’s so precious, so young, ruben can’t stand the thought of him feeling uncertain about what ruben thinks of him. because this is ruben’s baby brother. his boy who whimpers and trembles beneath soft cheek-kisses and a sure-moving palm slipping past the waistband of his boxers, curling around him, sticky and warm and throbbing. ruben gives him what he needs. tender touches. words of comfort when he starts crying, whining, bucking faster into ruben’s hand. almost frantic, like he’s scared ruben might change his mind or grow disgusted of touching him. ruben couldn’t dream of doing that. maybe when he was younger, he would have teased him and drug this out. maybe would’ve called him a needy little faggot—so desperate for his hand. but not now, when he’s holding niall close, and his shirt is soaking up niall’s tears and breathless little pants, and he can feel the slickness spreading, coming faster, warmer, making the glide easier, making the slit of niall’s cock quiver beneath his thumb, and he feels niall clinging to him with shaking hands and a pitiful little whimper. because he’s close and scared and it’s his first time being with a boy. his older brother. ruben doesn’t take that lightly. in the past he would have, but he’s got his boy back. his boy who needs him and is too shy to say. his boy who is starting to come, soft, in ruben’s hand. whimpering ruben’s name. a shy, trembling voice that makes ruben’s eyes sting and ruben’s breath catch. because he sounds so much younger than ruben can remember. ruben doesn’t dare let go of him. doesn’t dare stop praising him or pressing kisses into his hair. telling niall he’s right here and it’s all right, bambers. you’re all right, precious. i promise.