Warning: No beta
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no profit.
Summary: Sonny's POV. Sonny wakes Will up from a bad dream. They discuss dreams, the nature of dreams, and future dreams. And then they get it on :P
You know, usually? I sleep like the dead. My bed is one of my favorite places to be, especially when – particularly when Will is lying beside me. But just recently I’ve been sensitive to every sound, every movement. The slightest thing will wake me and the first thing I do, just an instinctual thing, the very first thing I do is reach for Will.
He’s getting worse. He doesn’t always wake up, but it’s as if I can somehow sense it, like I can feel his distress, and then I’m awake, leaning over him and trying to ease him back into an easy sleep by murmuring to him quietly. By stroking his gorgeously bed ruffled hair and whispering nonsense to him. As soon as I see that little crease between his brows disappear, then I know he’s slipped back into a deep sleep.
It’s his breathing, I think, that pulls me out of my sleep. Fitful little gasps of sorts, half spoken words that make no actual sense but are clear indications that it’s no sweet dream he’s having. I rub the sleep out of my eyes quickly and lean over him, my hand going straight to his hair, just like he so often does with me.
“Hey, shh…” I whisper. “It’s just a dream, Will. Everything’s fine.”
Except this time he isn’t settling down. And I think I must have been a ninja in a previous life because, despite my half-awake state, I manage to snap my head back in time, out of the way when he suddenly sits up with a gasp. I immediately touch his bare shoulder, my other hand goes to his stomach and I’m glad to see that he’s awake. He’s startled himself, but he’s awake.
“What the…” He looks around, clearly confused as he catches his breath.
“Hey,” I say with a quiet, forced cheer. “You been fighting dragons in your sleep again?” It’s lame, but honestly I’ll say any dumb thing at this point to make him feel calm and safe.
He closes his eyes tight, frowning and giving his head a little shake as if trying to orientate himself. “Um…nightmare.”
It’s an understatement if you ask me, but I don’t want to push him. “Yeah, seems like. You’re uh…you’re having quite a few of those, lately.”
“Maybe…maybe it’s something I’m eating before we go to bed?” He half jokes. “That’s a thing, right?”
“I guess it might be. Perhaps you just have too much caffeine in your system.” I say as I rub his back, though I know I’m thinking it’s something more along the lines of some sort of anxiety associated, messed up secret that’s weighing him down and screwing with his subconscious. My hand pauses in its slow circles on his back and I frown when I realize that he’s actually trembling.
“Will, you’re shaking.”
I watch as he lifts his knees to rest his elbows upon them, rubbing his hands over his face. I’ve been growing steadily more concerned over the past week or so about these dreams, but now I am officially worried. I lift the comforter out of the way and move behind him, my legs, my body cradling his as my arms work around his waist, his back to my chest, my chin resting on his shoulder. His trembling stops almost immediately.
“Will, talk to me.”
“It was a really bad one.”
I press a kiss to his shoulder. “Like I said, I’m sure talking about it will make things better.”
He takes a deep breath, and I’m pleased when he leans back into my arms, resting against me. Usually he pulls away, or claims to not remember a thing, which only serves to make me feel helpless. I love these moments when he chooses to trust me, to lean on me. Figuratively, as well as literally.
“It’s dumb, really.”
“Goblins? Snakes? I had this terrifying dream once about a porcupine that was–”
“A porcupine?” He laughs.
“Hear me out. It was the size of a car, moved really fast and had the face of Richard Simmons.”
“Jesus.” He shudders. “I take it back.”
“Uh huh.” I press a kiss to his neck, my hand rubbing over his stomach. “So, tell me about this dream.”
“Well, it was just…it was just us. Here.”
I frown. “Really?” I can’t help but look at my apartment. Even in the dark it’s completely non-threatening, unless you have a thing against giant spider plants.
ldquo;We were having a fight.” He says quietly.
“About what?” I ask gently, and I’m actually pleased that he’s facing away from me, because when I feel him go completely still against me, I have to close my eyes in frustration.
“I…I don’t really remember what it was about.”
“Okay,” I try to say as patiently as possible. “So, were we throwing punches, or something?”
He actually snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if either of us could ever do that.”
“Well, then what –?”
“It was one of those…one of those all-encompassing fights. A fight where two people reach to say the things they know can hurt the other. The kind of fight that’s like a runaway train; you can see what’s coming, but you’re helpless to stop it.”
He nods. And when he speaks next, his voice breaks ever so slightly. “You hated me.”
For a second I’m left almost stunned. I know he’s talking about a dream, but just the idea of hating Will feels completely alien to me. I pull him flush against me; press my brow to his temple. “Well,” I murmur quietly. “Dream Sonny sounds like an asshole.”
I succeed in pulling a laugh out of him, and he turns slightly in my arms to look at me. His smile slowly fades away. “When you look at me? You have this warmth in your eyes that just makes me feel like I’m home.” He licks his lips, swallows. “It was gone. You hated me. You thought I was pathetic, immature, a coward, a waste of space, a…a mistake.”
I have to look away for a second, just down to a spot somewhere between us, because I know where his subconscious has pulled that word from. The context was something different, and I was on the defensive at the time – insulted and embarrassed by the questions he was asking and the way in which he was asking them. But what I thought – what I hoped he’d forgotten, had evidentially taken route within him.
“Will,” I begin quietly, feeling as guilty as I’ve ever felt. “I never meant…I should never have–”
His hand tilts my chin back up, his eyes are soft and kind and he’s shaking his head slowly. “No. no, you don’t apologize for my crazy-assed dream.”
“But we both know that when I called our relationship a mistake that it hurt you. And we’ve never talked about it…”
“That’s because the entire thing was my fault. You could have said a lot worse. I deserved worse.”
I still felt like an ass. “But you’re having dreams…”
He shakes his head. “You are not to blame for my dreams, Sonny. Hey…” He tilts his head, catching my line of sight. “It kills me when you look sad. It makes me want to go all Hulk on someone until you smile again.”
I can’t help but snort, and I see him grin, just as he’s leaning close to press a kiss against my lips. I sigh, and shake my head when we pull apart. “Crazy dreams, huh?”
I see him shudder slightly, just from thinking about it. “Come here.” I murmur, and encourage him to lie down beside me. We lay facing each other, our heads barely touching and his hand curled in mine. This is how we wake up, most times. We’ll fall asleep tangled up, and wake up like this, still connected, still close, and intimate in a way that is more sweet than sensual.
“You know, they say dreams are made up of our subconscious, and the things we think about during the day.” I see him look at me warily, and I force myself not to go there.
“So, perhaps a way to give you some sweeter things to dream about is to give you something else to think about. Something good.”
I can see that he’s relieved and likes this idea, judging by the small smile playing on his lips. That one, particular smile that makes him seem so young, so in need of protecting.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Like what?”
“Well, what makes you happy?” He raises one goofy eyebrow in answer and I have to laugh out loud. “What makes you happy that won’t embarrass you in public to think about?” I amend.
“You mean like…food?”
I stop myself from laughing, but have to roll forwards to hide my face against the pillow as my shoulders begin to shake. I face him again when he nudges my shoulder. “I guess…” My voice threatens to shake, and I clear my throat so that I don’t laugh at him. “I guess if that’s what makes you happy.”
“I just made myself sound really dumb, didn’t I?”
“It was adorable.”
“Quit calling me adorable. I’m butch as hell, man.”
There’s no hiding my laughter this time, but it’s okay because he’s just watching me, trying to give me a look that I’m sure is supposed to be withering and failing miserably. Instead he’s grinning at my amusement and waiting for me to compose myself. I love this guy so much it’s ridiculous.
“I don’t want to think about food,” he says. “It’ll just make me hungry all the time.”
Deep breaths. Do not laugh. “So something else, then. What do you day dream about?”
He snorts. “To be honest? It really does usually just involve you. Being naked.”
“How does anyone get to be this cute?” I say, refusing to let myself be as pleased as I want to be by that remark.
“Hey, I said butch, dammit.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a second. “How about the kind of car you’d like to own? A sports car or something?”
He actually frowns at me. “There’s nothing wrong with my car.” Just as I open my mouth to speak he interrupts me. “And no, it’s doesn’t look like a laundry hamper…anymore.”
“I give up.” I chuckle. “You’re like no one else I know, I swear.”
His cheek twitches, and then he bites his lip. “There is something I kind of think about. Sometimes.”
“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”
I remember that his hand is holding mine when his thumb rubs against my little finger. He wets his lip, looking at the mattress, and then back at me.
“I think about where we’ll be…” He lifts one shoulder in at attempt at nonchalance. “What we’ll be doing, in a couple of years’ time.”
I don’t laugh at him this time. I’m not even sure if I can make a sound. There’s a pang in my chest, both warm and painful. Painful in a good way, if that makes sense. Instead, I bring our joined hands to my lips, and press a kiss to the back of his hand. I make my throat work.
“Yeah?” Is all I can manage.
He shrugs again, suddenly shy. But I have to have more. I just want to know if he thinks about the same things I do. “So…what are we doing, in a few years’ time?”
He watches me, and then shifts a fraction closer and speaks quietly, as if what he’s saying is so fragile, that if he says it too loud it’ll float away.
“We have our own place.” He watches me for a reaction, probably judging exactly what’s too much to share.
“What’s it like?” I whisper, my throat thick.
“Well…it has different rooms.”
He grins when I laugh.
“Not that I don’t like this place. But, you know…” He shrugs. “With two incomes and all, we can afford something bigger, but not so big that we have to worry about visitors constantly coming over. In fact, we pretty much just walk around naked all the time.”
“Is that right?”
He nods. “Yep. We have a widescreen TV, too.”
He grins, beginning to enjoy himself. “And you have your monster plants dotted around the place.”
“Look, if you don’t like the spider plant in the bathroom then –”
He laughs, and wraps his hand around the nape of my neck to draw me forwards for a kiss. “I love your weird plants.”
I press my lips together in an attempt to look stern. I fail. “Okay, so…that’s in, what? Two, three years?”
He looks worried. “Too soon?”
“No. I can’t wait.”
His smile is so sweet, that I suddenly want him more than I can say. But…as long as we’re on this trail of thought… “So…have…have these musings ever gone any further?” I edge carefully.
He watches me. “Are you trying to trick me?”
“If I say too much I’ll sound like a girl. I don’t want you to freak out on me.”
“I’m asking you, aren’t I?”
He mulls it over for a few moments, and then… “So, like, six, seven years in the future?”
I can’t hide my smile. It’s impossible. “Go on.”
“We’ve just come back from our travels, because every few years or so your get itchy feet and I have to take you to off somewhere so you can climb some stupid mountain whilst I wait at the bottom –”
“Drinking yak butter tea.”
“Don’t push it, Kiriakis.”
I laugh. Kiss his adorable scowl. “Go on.”
“And we’re home now. So you decide to…I don’t know, open up a chain of Kiriakis coffee houses?”
I pull him close to share the same pillow; I rest my brow against his. “And what do you do?” I murmur.
“Well, by this point I am so completely under the thumb, so utterly in love, I do pretty much whatever you tell me to.”
I shake my head, feeling oddly embarrassed but elated at the same time. “Get real, Will.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be in love with you forever, Sonny.” He says, smile fading, and I know he’s serious and waiting to see what I’ll do with it.
My hand cards through the hair at the back of his head, and I clear my throat once, twice before I can speak. “And ten years down the line?” It still comes out a whisper, but he’s looking at me like I just hung the moon.
I see his throat work when he swallows, and he nudges his nose affectionately against mine and then slowly, he’s easing me onto my back and lying above me. He brushes his thumb against my cheek and kisses me slowly, his lips lingering against mine.
“In ten years…” He begins, his voice growing husky. “In ten years we have our house.”
I smile into the kiss. “A house?”
“It’s no mansion,” he says between kisses. “But it’s big enough for family to visit. For your brothers to visit.”
The fact that he just knows how important such a small detail would be to me chokes me up. And I think he sees this because he’s whispering soft things to me, just like I do when he’s dreaming. “I can’t believe you’ve thought about this stuff.”
“You’ve no idea what it is I think about.” He murmurs against my neck.
My eyes close when his lips touch beneath my ear, making me shiver. His hand travels down to my thigh, lifting it up, against his waist.
“I’ve never been able to see far into my own future before. I’ve never even contemplated it before.”
He kisses me deeply, steeling my breath. He’s pressing kisses against my neck again as he reaches blinding for the bedside draw. A familiar rustle sends my heart racing.
“Now it’s all I think about,” he whispers.
We’re moving together in a way that is so perfect, so meant to be, and I can barely speak. “Those are some s-sweet dreams to have. That’s what you should t- think about…from now on.”
His back arches and my mouth opens in a gasp. His mouth falls open to mirror mine and he watches me, watches what it is he’s doing to me as his shoulders roll above me.
“I could watch you forever like this,” he pants.
“In dreams?” I ask, gasp, and clutch at him.
He grunts and closes his eyes for a second, and then his eyes are locked back onto mine. We move together, slick and desperate and passionate. It’s torture and it’s bliss. It’s wonderful and terrifying at the same time. I never want it to end and I can’t take much more. He looks like he’s in pain and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful, and he’s mine.
When we’re exhausted and spent, neither of us move. Even just the thought of moving is simply out of the question. He lays over me, his hand cradling the side of my neck, his brow pressed to my temple, our eyes closed and our breathing matched, in sync. I feel the warmth of his breath when he whispers to me sleepily.
“Not only in dreams.”