Quinlan cradles Faie’s cheek with one warm hand while the other pets his chest and stomach in sweeping lines under his shirt. Faie thinks he might be dying, floating away on the feeling of Quinlan all around him. He can’t support his own weight, even just to lay on his side like this, and it’s a painful relief to fall back into Quinlan’s arms. He’s so solid, Faie thinks. Heavy, like he’s dragging the whole apartment down into the impression he makes in Faie’s couch cushions.
Faie lets himself fall into it, into him, and doesn’t bother holding onto anything but the feeling of Quinlan’s hands on him and the hum of his voice and the plush of his lips on the back of his neck. He could be happy like this.
Faie’s out like a light, boneless against Quinlan’s front and breathing steadily into the crook of his neck. He’s lost weight, or maybe gained it? Redistributed it? He feels different in Quinlan’s arms. His shoulders are sharp and his bad leg lays awkwardly between them. He doesn’t dare move it.
The holofilm Quinlan’s queued up plays softly over the sound of Misty’s purring and the people upstairs walking back and forth. Quinlan keeps petting Faie’s hair. He’d melted into Quinlan’s hands earlier, fell apart like Quinlan’s touch was relieving some deep-seated pain. He’s not about to take that away while Faie sleeps.
Quinlan lets Faie sleep through midday and most of the afternoon. He hardly stirs, just drools onto Quinlan’s shirt and squeezes the two fingers of Quinlan’s right hand he’s got in his left.
At four thirty, an alarm on Faie’s communicator goes off. Afternoon meds, it tells Quinlan when he silences it. On the kitchen counter.
He contemplates letting Faie sleep through it, but then his stomach rumbles and he wonders when Faie last ate or drank anything. He jostles Faie awake. It’s harder than he anticipated, and Faie looks absolutely wrecked when he opens his eyes.
“Mm?”
“Hey,” Quinlan murmurs. “It’s time for your meds. You should probably eat something, too.”
Faie heaves a sigh and buries his face in the crook of Quinlan’s shoulder, nuzzling him like he’s trying to burrow into his shirt and hide. “‘M tired.”
Quinlan frowns. “I know, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the guilty twist of his heart when Faie’s hand tightens around his. “It’ll be quick.” Faie says something into Quinlan’s shoulder, too quiet to hear. “What? Didn’t quite catch that.”
A soft hum. Faie shifts so he’s looking at Quinlan with one hazy, bloodshot eye. “Nothing. Please let me go back to sleep. You can leave if you want. I’m just tired.”
Oh, Faie. Oh, love. “Actually, I thought I’d stay the night, if that’s alright with you?”
Faie freezes mid-breath. He blinks at Quinlan, then, very quietly, whispers, “Yeah, that’s alright.”
“Thank you. I still think you should have something to eat, though.”
Faie looks away.
Quinlan can’t have that. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I’m tired, Quin, please just let me sleep.”
“How about this: You stay here on the couch and I’ll get you something to eat and bring you your meds. Does that sound alright?”
Faie shivers. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Gently, Quinlan eases out from under Faie and tucks the blanket back around him. It really is chilly in the apartment without someone to cuddle.
He’s almost to the kitchen when he’s stopped by a soft, “Quin?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you feed Misty, please? At six? Her bowl’s by the dishwasher. Wet food. She had dry food this morning.”
“Yeah, I will. I’ll set an alarm so I don’t forget.”
Faie’s whispered, “Thank you,” is watery at the edges. Quinlan pretends not to notice.