when will it be enough?

Leaf went in first, by some unspoken agreement. Green waited, dripping and frowning, outside the bathroom door while Red scoured his closet for clothes that would fit the two of them. He was still looking when Leaf let Green in to have his turn. 

Of course, it couldn’t just be that easy.

“You missed a spot,” Green told her, flicking at the hair near the nape of her neck, which was still coated in a thin layer of mud.

Leaf’s fingers searched the spot. “I was trying to be quick,” she offered as an explanation. She dipped her fingers in the stream of water falling from the shower head and tried to work the dirt out of her hair. 

“Nope. Nope. Still there. You’re-–no. Here, lemme help–-”

Green tried to gently guide her head down under the water, but she resisted (with a blush, not that she’d ever let Green see that). She was fine, she could do it herself, she–-

She slipped. Green grabbed at her hand, but instead of pulling her back, she dragged him forward, forcing him to tumble with her down into the tub.

Was that two for two for Leaf, or a reversal? They couldn’t agree on that, either.

The crash drew Red back to the open door of the bathroom. He stuck his head inside, saying, “What was-–?”

He paused, taking in the scene before him. Green, still fully dressed, Leaf, dressed only in a robe, both sitting in the bathtub as the shower water streamed over them. Red stepped closer and reached out a hand to help them up. “What happened?”

They didn’t answer, though. There was another unspoken agreement, it seemed--both Leaf and Green grabbed Red by the arm and, without a word, tugged him down into the shower with them.

It had begun when she’d spotted two trees standing close to one another and the thick branch stretching between them. With some rocks to weigh down the edges and a little help from the somewhat taller Red, Lucille had draped her own blanket overtop the branch to make a tent of sort.

But that wasn’t nearly enough. Oh no. Soon enough her pillow, and Red’s, and his sleeping bag, too-–all they had became nothing more than potential materials for the fort.

And when they finally finished, climbed inside, and lit the place up, Red had to admit: it was nice. Cozy. Crouched down inside with their meager light flickering, the rest of the world seemed irrelevant. Even nonexistent. It was a magical feeling.

Of course, a problem soon arose: it was cold. Literally freezing, in fact. They couldn’t light a fire without setting their lovely fort alight, and they’d run out of blankets long, long ago. Red noticed Lucille shivering–-her chattering teeth breaking up the constant flow of her voice-–before he noticed the cold himself.

Red wanted to shift closer, to offer her some of his own warmth, just for practicality’s sake. But then, he didn’t want to invade her space, and he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Red hesitated.

Before he could move, though, Lucille had scooted in closer and pressed her shoulder up against his without a comment. She just kept on talking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was all the invitation Red needed. He curled in closer, doing his best to cover her small frame with his own limbs.

They’d started out on the edge of the bed, sitting with their legs dangling over the side as went through the usual process of getting caught up on each other’s lives. As the sun set outside her bedroom window, they’d shifted further onto the covers. They sat cross-legged in the center of it all, laughing and reminiscing about their shared childhood. And as the clock ticked on and reached into those strange hours between this day and the next, they’d ended up lying there, side by side, talking about all those things that would have usually terrified Red to speak aloud.

The dim light of the moon peeking through the curtains gave everything a silvery, otherworldly glow. At a certain point, Red and Leaf just fell into a comfortable silence. He could feel the ever so slight shifting as her breathe rose and fell, could feel her warmth seeping into his skin from where their arms brushed up against one another. 

In that moment, he needed nothing else in the world.

Red didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but he knew he must have. The light was different when he awoke-–that thin, grey light of early morning. And more than that, he and Leaf had curled in close sometime over the night. They laid there with their legs intertwined and their faces mere inches apart. Her hand stretched across the gap between their chests, reaching.

If Red had been more awake, he might’ve pulled away. But at the time, it was difficult to argue with his sleep-logged mind. Especially when this felt so easy, so natural. Red turned in closer to her and allowed his own arm to bridge the space between them. His hand fell against hers, and Leaf–-unconsciously, or was she awake, too?-–laced her fingers between his with a soft murmur.

Red had settled deep into the couch somewhere over the course of the movie. It was something older, nostalgic. He’d seen it so many times that every ebb and flow of the plot was familiar, and watching it again felt like coming home. He didn’t have to pay attention too much, not really, but he liked it enough to see it all again. 

They were probably halfway through when Green’s hand brushed up against the back of Red’s head. It felt…nice. Natural, somehow. So much so that it took Red a few long minutes before he truly noticed the fact that Green’s fingers were twirling around his hair. He had to resist the urge to jolt with the realization; somewhere deep down, he worried that he might scare Green off.

So, he didn’t move, except to shut his eyes and breathe out a long sigh. In that moment, the sound of the movie seemed to fade out, leaving him with nothing but the soft touch of Green’s fingertips.

Eventually, of course, Red had to shift his position. That slight movement seemed to draw Green’s attention away from the movie, enough to realize what, exactly, he’d been doing. Green snatched his hand back. Red tried to swallow his disappointment.

Red waited for some snappy comeback from Green. None came; the silence remained. Finally, Red glanced towards him. 

The flickering light of the tv lit up Green’s face in shades of summer gold. He was staring pointedly at the screen–a little too pointedly, Red thought. He kept staring. Until, finally–

“What?” 

Obvious. Defensive. Transparent.

Morty had let him in. Had offered him a place to stay for the night, some food to eat, like it was nothing. Like it was easy. Red couldn’t find the words to express the full extent of his gratitude–so, for the moment, a simple “Thank you” had to be sufficient.

Now, they were sitting together on Morty’s couch, watching terrible late-night television. Red wasn’t paying attention, not really. His eyes kept drooping, unbidden. He tried to remember the last time he’d gone to sleep and came up empty. His insomnia had come back with a vengeance recently. Sleep had felt–-wrong. Unsafe, unnecessary, a waste of time.

But it didn’t feel like that now. Not at all. The blanket Morty had offered him was soft, the room was warm, and he felt safe for the first time in a long while.

Red’s eyelids fell, and this time they didn’t snap back open. His head tilted first, then his entire body. His face drooped onto Morty’s shoulder, and there he stayed.

Morty hadn’t wanted to wake him–-poor kid looked like he hadn’t slept in a week–-so he didn’t. Just for a little while. Just until he went to bed himself.

But soon enough, he was drifting off, too.

oh my god, I actually remember that from way back when. It’s just…so beautiful ;-;

Side note, can’t believe there’s not an actual ship name for those three. We should make one.