#femmenott

It isn’t any different from most nights.  Roy wakes at the same time--always in the middle of the night--to the soft pu pu pu of Dick’s snoring.  It’s endearing, he guesses, but he can’t help the jealousy that washes over him.  Roy’s forced from a dreamless sleep, resigned to watch the slow process of Dick’s bedhead with the lullaby of their sputtering in his ear.  If only that lullaby was enough to put him back to sleep.

Pillows flank the two of them and while it’s a comfortable nest of Dick’s making, Roy feels as if he’s being boiled alive.  Four sit at the head of the bed, two large ones in bland blue casing flush against the headboard and two smaller ones in white flat against the mattress.  The pillow underneath Roy can no longer be flipped over, the cool side finally drained of its chill.  On Dick’s side, their pillow is lumpy and never fits correctly in its case.  Roy suspects it’s a victim of Dick’s cuddling when he isn’t there to take its place and he thanks the thing for suffering through the nights he’s suffering now.

Don’t take it the wrong way.  The familiarity between him and Dick is what Roy craves.  It’s what he loves when he’s in this bed, in Dick’s arms, close enough to smell their minty breath sour into morning.  He’d love it more if the arms coiled around him wouldn’t squeeze tighter with each twitch of his muscles, if Dick wasn’t a human radiator.  He’d absolutely love it more if Dick would let him take a goddamn piss.

To see the blue walls of the bathroom instead of the bedroom wall go from black to blue with the rising sun would be a nice change of scenery.

Damn… Roy thinks.  Dick really likes blue.

Maybe that’s all an exaggeration.  Not the blue, but the cuddling.  Dick isn’t some deadly cobra locking Roy in place to swallow whole, just a person who seems hellbent on being the clingiest cuddler alive.  

The clingiest and the hottest cuddler.

“Dick,” Roy whispers, just loud enough to hear over the snoring.

Silence.

Roy sighs.  Dick looks so peaceful and it tugs at his heart to disturb them.  Their lashes cast long shadows over their cheeks and Roy can feel the steady rise and fall of Dick’s chest push into his own.  It’s graceful in a manner that is solely suited to Dick Grayson, so much so that Roy is caught admiring them.  It has to be illegal to ruin a peace like this.

Just then, a cold foot presses against Roy’s leg, but it isn’t the frozen sole that has a chill running up his spine. It’s the grazing of Dick’s toe nails on his skin that does.

Roy suddenly remembers he’s done lots of illegal things before and this one wouldn’t be the first, the worst nor the last.  He pushes himself to sit up, Dick’s arms now wrapped around his waist and takes a deep breath.

“Dick!” he shouts.

“Wh-- What?” Dick jumps, looking around in alarm.  “What’s happened?  What’s wrong?”

“You’re hot,” Roy says.

Dick stares at him in disbelief, the corners of their eyes crinkled and their mouth turned into a frown.  For a moment, Roy isn’t sure whether Dick heard him, thinking that startling them might have been a bit too much.  Then, he hears it, the curb of annoyance in Dick’s tone as they speak and Roy feels strangely satisfied.

“That’s what you woke me up for?  To tell me I’m hot?”

“Ew, no.  Not like that,” Roy says, scrunching his nose up in distaste.

“Ew?” Dick says, “Ew?!”

“Shut up.  I didn’t mean it like that.  Not hot hot,” Roy crosses his arms, takes the opportunity to try and detangle himself from the web of sheets he’s managed to get caught in.  “You are hot though, don’t get me wrong.”

“Roy,” Dick sighs and Roy jumps in before they can say any more.

“What I mean is, I’m sweating because you’re hot,” Roy says.  “Get off me so I can get out of the covers.”

Dick’s frown deepens, but Roy can tell it’s different with the way their bottom lip juts out.  He doesn’t get a chance to question it (or to get away) before he’s being pulled closer again.

“But you’re so warm,” Dick says, their voice not matching the expression.  It sounds soft and cooing, but the hand on Roy’s arm is what’s coaxing him lie back down.

Roy tries to shimmy away, though he’s not making any real effort.  “Dick.  C’mon!”  He’s whining now because how else is he supposed to combat Dick’s power of persuasion?  “It’s the third night this week I’ve woken up sweating.”

“Fine, fine.  If it’ll keep you from waking me up.”  Dick lifts the covers to help Roy kick himself out of them, but as soon as he’s free, Dick resumes their cuddling, wrapping their arms around Roy’s torso in a tight embrace.  Their forehead rests against the nape of his neck, Dick’s chest pressed against Roy’s back.  

Roy can feel the flutter of Dick’s lashes as their eyes close, ready for sleep to take them once more, but Roy isn’t willing to let them go that easy.

“You’re not gonna even kiss me goodnight?” Roy asks

Dick’s lashes tickle him again as they open. “If I must.”

Roy feels the words more than he hears them, the thrum of Dick’s voice and the heat from his breath causing him to shiver.  He’s contented with a kiss against his neck then and ready for sleep when the mattress creaks.

Dick shifts their weight, baring it on one arm so they can lead a trail of kisses along the curve of Roy’s shoulder to the edge of his prickly jaw, a freckled cheek.  Roy smiles, leans back a little so he can admire Dick appropriately in the shadow of dusk and close his eyes for the kiss on the lips.

“Goodnight,” Dick whispers and settles back down behind him.

“Goodnight…” Roy murmurs back.