bigapplesauce | The Bedside We Seek in the Night [closed]

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The Bedside We Seek in the Night [closed]

Since the last big mess of shared dreams, the memories dredged up and exposed for Gabriel to see have plagued Peter. It's not unusual for him to have nightmares or to dream of vampires, but it's been a while since he last had the kind of dreams he's had the last few nights.

He's hiding under his bed, cringing and crying as quietly as he can as shots ring out a few rooms away. His mother screams and he claps his hands over his ears, expecting the exact moment when she stops screaming because he's relived this memory too many times to count. The setting is achingly familiar yet completely out of his control, his sleeping mind unable to grasp just why he knows what's going to happen, why his gut is twisting itself in knots as the gun goes off again and it's his father's turn to scream.

Usually at this point the dream dissolves into some other terrible memory, or loops around and starts again with him sitting up watching telly with his parents before the monster comes. Tonight's a little different, though. In the way of dreams, time foreshortens itself. Peter trembles and stares at the pair of feet just in front of him, trying to breathe as quietly as he can. It knows he's here. The figure bends down, a smiling face dipping into view, eyes locked onto Peter. "Hey, guy," says Jerry.

Peter's heart seizes and he leaps. Then, suddenly, there's a burst of red light before he's falling into darkness. He hits something soft that seems to reach up and grab him to entangle him and panics, screaming and thrashing against it.

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"Or it could kill me before I can learn how," he points out, getting serious again. He's never actually teleported into anything that would, but every time he thinks about it, he has visions of appearing inside a wall or at the bottom of a lake. He still doesn't know how it works, either, and is unlikely to figure it out. Magic tricks are all fun and games until they stop being tricks.

"Which is why you have to deal with it," she answers reasonably. "Surely it's better if you gain some control over it. Not come barging into people's bedrooms and frighten the shit out of them." Despite her words, she doesn't sound particularly angry about it right now. "What brought that on, by the way?" See, there it is.

"Get the shit frightened out of me, you mean," he corrects her gruffly, sidestepping the question. "I was here for what, five seconds before you pulled a knife on me?"

She doesn't correct him, that thank you, she had the knife before he got here, because she doesn't really want to explain her power. She thinks the reason WHY she pulled a knife was obvious.

And given his nudity, the time of day, and his disorientation, she'd say he was asleep. It's either that, or having sex with someone, but again, given his nudity, she'd probably be able to tell. And he's not drunk. And he was frightened before she pulled the knife.

"Were you having a nightmare about your parents?" she asks astutely. It might be about something else, of course, but this is also a way to bring up the whole dream thing. He hasn't told her in waking moments, after all.

Were he aware, Peter would think Lucy is being incredibly unfair. Being unaware, he still thinks she's being incredibly unfair by demanding answers of him when he's obviously not in the mood to give them.

He flinches and nearly spills his tea down his lap. "No," he says, back to the strident tone from before. "Why would I have nightmares about my parents? I'm not twelve, Lucy."

And Peter continues to prove himself a terrible liar. She puts a hand on his, partly to stop him from spilling tea in her bed. "Your parents were killed when you were nine, that's not something you stop dreaming about just because you become a teenager, or an adult for that matter," she says, her softness contrasting his tone, looking at him sympathetically.

"You shouldn't know that," says Peter, refusing to look at her. He remembers at least the gist of the dreams, though, as much as he's tried to forget and to tell himself he didn't really share so much with the real Lucy. "Guess that'll teach me to think I've got any privacy in my head."

Lucy sighs and resists arguing that he was the one who told her. It's not like she saw something he didn't want to share - at that point, anyway. She may be inquisitive, but she doesn't force him to share.

She takes the mug out of his hand and sets them both in the bookshelf, since he doesn't seem to want to drink any of it. She's not exactly sure why he's so prickly, when Lucy's neither mocked him nor shared his secrets with anyone. So instead of arguing the case, she leans against him, wrapping arm around his waist, and resting her head on his shoulder. Physical comfort is something they've gotten quite familiar with, even if most times they have the excuse of sex.

"Hey --" Peter starts to protest, since just because he didn't want his tea doesn't mean she gets to take it away from him. He takes in a surprised breath when she simply cuddles into him instead of arguing back. He knows she found out because he told her, not because she saw something private like certain people who have visited his mind, but on some level it appalls him that he's voluntarily let anyone in on his secrets.

He sighs back and puts his arm around her in return. "I wasn't sure that conversation was real," he explains reluctantly.

Lucy has started to learn when to argue and when to comfort. Sometimes he really does act like a dick, and a good scolding is in order, since she refuses to be pushed around by him. And sometimes it's just a self-preservation method, lashing out to keep her at arm's length, which she refuses to let him do.

"Neither was I," she answers. Of course, this means that she's admitting to the things he's seen of her life, too. It's a bit freeing, to have him know. She was never particularly secret about the abusiveness of her husband, but the details are more painful. "It was nice, though," she adds. "The sex, too." Like, that was some really good sex. They should try that more often.

The same thought is occurring to Peter -- the things she's told him in dreams are probably largely true, rather than illusions his own brain cooked up. Except the one where she told him she was a werewolf, that probably wasn't real. The tail she'd been sporting would be a bit of a giveaway.

"Only 'nice'?" he asks, feigning affront. "I blew your fucking mind, same as I do every time."

She chuckles. "Not every time," she answers with a smile. They've gotten more consistently good at it, now they've gotten used to each other's preferences, and things run more smoothly, but they've had their share of lazy fucks as well.

"Close enough," says Peter, waving a hand dismissively. There, is she distracted enough yet? He'd much rather talk about their sex life than about his nightmares.

Lucy doesn't intend to harp on about his nightmares or his tragic past, but that doesn't mean she's done with the original subject. "You know, I get why you're wary of supernatural stuff, of course I do," she says. "But ignoring the fact that you can teleport isn't a good idea, when you can end up doing it by accident."

"This isn't a regular thing," objects Peter. "When have I ever teleported into your bed before now? Never, that's when."

"You did it with Gabriel too," she points out. "Twice is regular enough. What if you'd appeared on that side of the wall instead?" she asks, nodding at the window. They don't live on the ground floor, so. Not that she thinks this hasn't occured to him, but he seems far too content completely ignoring the problem altogether instead of trying to do something about it.

Peter glowers at the revelation that Gabriel not only told her about the power, but apparently told her some of the circumstances of how he discovered Peter has it. He opens his mouth to give some smart answer but has to shut it again when he can't think of one. He'd have fallen to his death, that's what.

He told her quite a bit about the circumstances, really.

"Exactly," she replies to his non-answer. She remains quiet for a couple moments, considering, then continues. "You could practice somewhere more safe. Or perhaps get help from the rebels. I bet they help people with their powers all the time."

"Oh, you mean those people who'd all be glad to be rid of me? Those rebels?" Not that he figures there are many people who know him and who wouldn't be glad to be rid of him. "I'd rather just...not do it," he admits. "Ever."

Lucy sighs once again, and shifts a bit to lie down rather than sit, and make herself more comfortable against him. She may bother him about this more later, but it's the middle of the night and she's exhausted, so bickering about details will have to wait. And though it wasn't exactly planned having Peter here, she doesn't feel the need to kick him out. Even if this means they sleep together without actually having sex.

Peter looks down at Lucy for a moment, both glad she's not pushing to hear more about his dream or to insist he has to learn how to deal with his power and wishing just a tiny bit that she would. Not that he'd take advantage of it by immediately opening up if she did, of course.

He reaches across her to fetch his teacup, not ready to lay down and go back to sleep yet. "I didn't ask for this," he comments, taking a sip.

"None of us did," she answers, patting his leg through the covers. "Deal with it." Look, she can be sympathetic and comforting, but that doesn't mean she won't also tell him to pull himself together.

Since Peter doesn't seem intent on sleeping quite yet, she rolls onto her back to look up him. "The previous times it's happened, what's caused it? Maybe if you can avoid the cause, you can avoid it happening."

"Think Gabriel would pay any attention to a restraining order?" It's not fair to blame it all on Gabriel, considering he's only been the cause once, but it somehow feels fair anyhow. Moving his hand to touch her hair, he looks away before admitting, "It happens when I'm scared."

Except obviously not every time he's scared, or he'd be teleporting constantly. Actually, he really hopes that's not obvious, thanks.

She smiles a little at the thought of Gabriel and restraining orders, but no, she's fairly sure he wouldn't. She sobers a little at his admittance though. She'd guessed as much - nightmare and all. Especially because her power tends to activate when she's scared - naked Peter falling on her and all.

"Well, Gabriel can be pretty terrifying," she answers, just a touch darkly.

"Can't even get away from him in my sleep," grumbles Peter. The way she says it gives him pause, though -- is someone finally actually agreeing with him about Gabriel, rather than just humoring him? "...You, too?"

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