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The noisiness of sleep

Summary:

Phil sighed, sounding somehow the most tired Missa had ever heard him. He was staring past Missa, at the weird black shit, his wings tucked close around himself. "I had a weird fucking dream- I think I might've sleptwalked or something? But when I woke up and then found this shit later. Led right from the chair I fell asleep in, and then when I woke up I was standing... right there."

He motioned to the black stuff again before he huddled a little closer into himself, pressed his mouth to his crossed arms as he stared. Missa blinked down at him, then back at the black stuff, and then Phil was turning towards him again, his eyes distant and almost haunted in a way that looked wrong on his face.

"...Are- are you real, Missa? Are you really here or am I just... making you up?"

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

It was dark again when Missa returned to an empty house.

It seemed he could only ever arrive shrouded in darkness, the slight lantern light from the house he and Phil had first build for Chayanne the only source of light that caught his eye. He cupped his hands around his eyes as he pressed closer to the glass, but it was still as empty as it'd been when he'd left. Chayanne's bed was nowhere to be seen, and the double he'd shared with Philza once upon a time was clinically made and lonely-looking.

He sighed to himself, taking a step back before his eyes lingered over the old photos still hanging on the walls. The ache in his chest was persistent, had been since he'd heard the news, since Philza and everyone else had filled him in on what he'd missed, and-

He ran a hand through his messy hair, then tugged, just to feel something.

He'd wished he'd known this place was so dangerous, then he shook his head dismissively at the thought. Who was he kidding? He couldn't have done anything to help, not when this whole island was full of people a million times more competent than Missa could ever hope to be, and even they still had no idea where the kids were.

His hands traced over the armor he wore, the enchantment runes carved into whatever material made it, the weight of the backpack on his back.

Gifts, from a husband turned single father due to Missa's consistent absences, because he'd seen how Missa was lacking and had taken it upon himself to fix it. A kindness he knew he didn't really deserve- one he couldn't refuse either.

He glanced over towards the side of the house, where the trapdoor leading to the bunker was. There was still light spilling out from inside, even through the several layers of protection in place. He bit his lip, worrying at it for a moment before he forced himself to lift the door. It opened easily under his touch, and he took some solace in that- he still had some kind of place here, even if he wasn't exactly sure why.

He climbed down the ladder, pressing his way through two more sets of doors before he was in the room proper, two twin beds sitting empty up against the far wall.

He forced himself to swallow the lump that had lodged itself in his throat, his eyes falling to Philza's equally empty chair before they felt further down, and he blinked at the... black substance marring the floor. It was trailing down to another trapdoor, and he furrowed his brow as he followed it along, hesitating just a moment before he slid the door open, tentatively peeking inside.

There was more black, down the ladder and at the bottom, and as Missa dropped to his hands and knees to get a better look without touching anything, his eyes snagged on the two feet that were just at the edge of where he could see, and his heart lurched in his chest. He fumbled his way down the ladder, letting out an involuntary shriek as he missed the last couple rungs and fell the rest of the way. The person to whom the feet belonged sat up in surprise, blonde hair flying and wings spread wide, and gods above, at least Philza was alive. Missa almost wished he wasn't as Phil finally registered who it was exactly that had dropped in from the ceiling, every part of him going slack in obvious relief.

"God fucking damnit, mate." Phil sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. "You fucking scared the shit outta me-"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry- ow." Missa said quickly, and then winced as he tried to shake the shock off. Falls always seemed to hurt the worst for some reason, always seemed to linger, even with the enchantments carved into his boots, though he supposed that any pain might feel like that right now, when he was still so used to the incorporeal space of the dead. "Hijo de puta- sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you I just wanted to make sure you weren't dead, or- or something."

"Nope, I'm still kicking." Phil gave a vague gesture to himself before tucking his knees close to his chest and facing... what looked like a fucking explosion of that weird black substance, but in it were signs, color coded in a way that made Missa's heart lurch painfully in his chest, up until he read the messages, and then it was painfully clear that it had been Phil who left them behind. There was a moment of silence, stunned on Missa's part, before Phil continued. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon, mate."

"Uh, yeah, I... What is this?" Missa asked, almost scared to find out even as he stepped closer, looking at the twin golden apples sitting neatly in their item frames. He could feel his voice rising in panic despite himself, but Phil gave a soft huff that might've been a laugh in another circumstance, which, yeah, alright. "It looks like... I don't know."

Phil hummed. "A lot more stuff happened while you were away, mate. Again. We uh, we think this is our kid's way of talking to us."

"I- what?" Missa exclaimed, spinning to face Phil. "What the fuck do you mean? This is like... black slime or something, what's-"

"Honestly? I don't fucking know, mate." Phil sighed, sounding somehow the most tired Missa had ever heard him. He was staring past Missa, at the weird black shit, his wings tucked close around himself. "I had a weird fucking dream- I think I might've sleptwalked or something? But when I woke up and then found this shit later. Led right from the chair I fell asleep in, and then when I woke up I was standing... right there."

He motioned to the black stuff again before he huddled a little closer into himself, pressed his mouth to his crossed arms as he stared. Missa blinked down at him, then back at the black stuff, and then Phil was turning towards him again, his eyes distant and almost haunted in a way that looked wrong on his face.

"...Are- are you real, Missa? Are you really here or am I just... making you up?"

"Uh..." Missa hesitated, looking down at himself. He pressed his hands against his torso, and then up to his face, but it all seemed solid enough. "I think so?"

"Pft, you don't know?" Phil laughed, then reached a hand up. Even from where Missa was standing he could see how it shook, and he quickly stepped forward to take it, rubbing it between both his hands when he realized just how cold he was. Phil's eyes softened as he looked down at their entwined hands, a shaky breath escaping him as his eyes fluttered closed as he gave Missa's hand a small squeeze. "That's good, that's good. I was afraid- well, I'm glad you're here, mate."

"I'm sorry I left again." He offered lamely, his chest aching with guilt as he slid down to the floor next to Philza, not quite close enough to be touching. "Are- are you okay? You look. Tired?"

"You can fuckin' say that again, mate." Phil said, and this close Missa could see just how greasy and unkempt Phil's hair was underneath his hat, just how deep the bruises under his eyes were, just how exhausted he looked. Missa bit his lip, rubbing a little further up Phil's arm as if he could rub some life back into him and Phil leaned into the touch, just a bit. "I haven't- that dream was so fuckin' real Missa, so fuckin' real. I haven't really been able to sleep since- and then ever since this stuff showed up I've just been... here. Waiting for any sign that they're okay."

Every part of Missa felt hollow at the broken admission, and he bit his lip as Phil lifted his free hand to rub at his eyes tiredly, before going back to stare at the black stuff, at the signs he'd left behind. And Missa'd always felt an enormous amount of guilt for not being present when his family needed him to be, for being absent and only learning months after the fact just how much danger his kids and husband had been in. And even if Missa wasn't a fighter, he could've done at least something to help, something to lighten the load on Phil's back even a little bit-

He stared at Phil, shoving down his own feelings of inferiority because they didn't fucking matter, not here, not now.

Not when his husband looked like they'd already lost.

He brushed Phil's hair away from his face, and Phil caught his eye with a slightly bemused expression, even as the pain in his eyes was impossible to ignore.

"Philza." Missa started, swallowing down everything he wanted to say. "You should try to get some sleep, okay? I can keep watch for you and- and I can let you know as soon as something changes okay?"

Philza's expression tightened, and he glanced back toward the monument to their kids with a kind of fervor that scared Missa to see. He tugged on Phil's sleeve, drawing his attention back to Missa, his brow furrowed.

"I'll be right here the whole time, and when you wake up." Missa reassured, doing his best to project confidence into his tone. "I promise I won't leave this time. Te prometo mi vida."

"Ah, shit I left the translator upstairs-" Phil said, and Missa could feel a momentary spike of panic in his chest before he reined it back in, taking in a breath as he shook his head.

"It's not important, Philza. I promise I'll be right here when you wake up, okay?" Missa said again, firmly, and Phil sucked in his own breath, his blue eyes searching Missa's own. And Missa- well, he tucked his thumb underneath the bottom of his mask, lifting it up just enough so he and Philza could make real eye contact.

Phil's eyebrows raised, but otherwise he didn't say anything, silently lifting a hand towards Missa's face as if asking for permission. Missa could feel the heat radiating from his skin, could feel the tingle of anticipation on his own, and he blinked once before leaning into Phil's touch, not breaking eye contact for a moment. Something shuddered through Phil at the touch, and he shifted a little closer to Missa, raising his other hand to cup Missa's face. His thumbs brushed along Missa's cheekbones, his fingers curling slightly into the mess of black curls falling around his face.

"You're really here, huh?" Phil murmured, mostly to himself, and Missa pressed his hand over Phil's.

"I am. Do you think you could try to get some sleep, Philza? Just right here."

Phil looked down at where they were sitting, the wooden planks hard and cold beneath them both and he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He cast his gaze over the black stuff again, lingering over the signs he'd put there, like he was looking for something, and Missa gently tugged his attention away again. His lips were pursed, and he had a furrow between his brows that Missa wanted to reach up and smooth, but instead he tugged Phil closer to the floor beside him until Phil conceded.

He ended up with his head pillowed on Missa's thigh, still facing the black stuff with a stalwart expression that made Missa give a little sigh, not quite able to help the sad little smile that lifted the corners of his lips. He could feel the joints of Phil's wings pressing up against his thigh, could feel the curve of Phil's shoulder, could feel the soft breaths leeching heat into the fabric of Missa's baggy pants. Missa hesitated for a moment before brushing blonde hair from Phil's forehead, his confidence slightly waning from what it’d been only moments ago.

Phil didn't outwardly react much beyond blinking, his eyes red and tired, and Missa hesitated a moment more before quietly asking, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, mate." Phil murmured, and Missa could feel the way his lips moved against the meat of his thigh, and the little thrill of arousal that shot through him that was easily ignored. "Just don't pull, that's all."

"Okay." Missa returned, his own voice barely a whisper in the space between them before he gently raked his fingers through Phil's hair, slowly working through the strands and making sure not to tug on any knots he found along the way. Slowly Missa could feel as the tension drained out of Philza, bit by bit, as Missa scratched lightly across his scalp, rubbing his fingertips down to the nape of Phil's neck and then a little ways past his collar before working his way back up again.

"You're gonna fucking put me to sleep if you keep up with that, mate." Phil slurred, already sounding halfway there, and Missa laughed softly.

"That was kind of the hope. La Muerte sabe que lo necesitas."

"Fuck off." Phil murmured, blinking slowly as his hand curled into the fabric of Missa's pant leg. He sighed when Missa rubbed along his temples, and then smoothing a hand over his forehead, dipping down close enough to his eyes for him to close them. It was quiet again for a long moment, long enough that Missa had almost been convinced that Philza really had fallen asleep, before he took another breath. "You gonna be here when I wake up?"

Missa paused in his ministrations, that tightness holding his chest in an iron grip again, regret and inadequacy welling up like a tide in the back of his mind, and he bit his lip, looking down at the man who was his husband. Who had suffered through so much alone, who should have every reason to hate and mistrust Missa after everything, and yet still made a spot for him in his home. Still put his name on the door, still allowed him inside.

"Yes." He breathed, feeling like his heart was stuck in his throat, filling his mouth, spilling out into the dark for all to see. "I'll be here for as long as you'll have me, Philza. For as long as I can. I'll be here."

Phil curled into himself a little more, curled into Missa a little more, pressing his face further into MIssa's thigh, and he was pretty sure he was just imagining things, wishing for impossibilities, suffering from his own stupid desires, but he almost thought, for a moment, that Phil had pressed a kiss there.

Phil woke slowly, hours later, the sun having risen and streaming golden light through the windows a while ago. At some point Phil had shuffled a wing over his eyes with a low grumble that Missa couldn't help but find endearing, but now he shifted it back behind him, blinking blearily at the black stuff.

Still unchanged, and that hurt, even if Phil didn't look especially surprised.

That hurt too.

He moved again with a groan, pressing a hand to the floor to push himself up, only to blink blankly at Missa, who stared back at him a little unsure.

"Oh." Phil said, blinking again, his face open with clear disbelief that slowly thawed into something warm. "You stayed."

"Ah, yeah." Missa said, holding himself very still so he didn't do something stupid like reach out and touch Philza completely unprompted. There was something about the stark light of day that made even the thought of it all the more daunting, but still. "I promised."

And Phil huffed a laugh at that, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I guess you did."

Notes:

Now with this beautiful art piece! by Skellyfrogs on tumblr!! Truly honored to be gifted something as beautiful as this!!

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