Chapter Text
In his teen years (and, let’s be honest, pretty far into his foray at University) Richard played a lot of D&D, to the surprise of no one at all. It was a nice, short-lived escape to play through a few campaigns in his spare time. Naturally that free time had become non-existent after getting hired by Hooli, and not even the lure of there being three girls in Hooli's in-house D&D team was enough to lure him back into gaming.
You can never really leave completely, though, he found. Not that he would say it out loud, but in his mind, when the house was relatively quiet and he was falling asleep, he would visualize himself as the Dungeon Master of Pied Piper and in control of the story. It was strangely empowering, this exercise, and he was sure that Jared would be able to tell him which corporate strategy it was most like (as sure as he was that Jared would be the only one who wouldn't ruin the practice for him with ridicule). It helped a lot when it seemed like every day brought new challenges to his business, new and exciting ways to fuck everything up. He had at least a little room to breathe at night and reimagine the day as a series of stories to tell and problems to solve. Hooli became a rival band of fighters seeking the same treasures, Russ became a mysterious and reckless–but rich–Aristocrat (maybe a former Rogue with entrepreneurial instincts?), and most recently the asshole neighbor could be the warm-up Troll to get rid of for quick character points.
And so, armed with knowledge, he completely nuked that Troll with help from Erlich (the Narcissistic Fighter). With no more immediate enemies to slay, Richard returned to his room.
To be met with erratic, frightening-sounding German.
Richard sighed and stood just inside the doorway, considering. There really was no place to sleep outside his room, and he wouldn't want to deal with getting fucked with if anyone found that he was soaked any furniture with his sweat. There was no way, though, that he could sleep with Jared like this.
He frowned and sighed. The choice was easy; his Paladin was in need, and as a good DM he needed to help.
Richard knelt down and slowly shuffled forward until his knees met the edge of the thin, old and mostly-deflated air mattress Jared was using. With a shaky hand he reached out and gently, awkwardly pressed against Jared's shoulder enough to shift his body. There was a short pause, but no real change. Carefully, Richard pushed against Jared’s shoulder again, harder this time. This did the trick which, of course, backfired; the other man twitched and started fighting with the air, hands erratically swinging. Richard made a (completely dignified) gurgling noise and reached out to grip Jared's hands by the wrists, worried that he would hurt himself. To his surprise Jared calmed, and the German became a quiet whisper. Curiously, he pressed his thumbs harder into the inside of Jared's wrists and tightened his grip, eliciting a soft moan. Richard suppressed a shiver; the implications–and the memory of every time Jared mentioned liking when Richard was assertive and looked at him with dark eyes–brought to mind some vivid imagery, but this was no time to get worked up sexuality when he was just trying to help.
Gently, Richard lowered both of their arms until Jared's were at his side and let go. Jared immediately frowned, grabbed at Richard’s hands with surprising strength and started talking in his sleep again.
Richard sighed as he struggled against gravity in his current, awkward position, somewhat between kneeling and being pulled onto Jared’s chest. He needed to sleep, Jared needed to be quiet, and in the morning he could come up with an explanation that his exhausted brain failed to find in the moment. Carefully maneuvering around Jared’s grip he shrugged the kimono off, crawled under Jared's blanket, and arranged the two of them into a spooning position.
As he drifted asleep he thought that the silence was beautiful and sent a hope into the universe that Jared not freak out when he woke up and found himself not only groped inappropriately but also covered in Richard's inevitable sweat. His final thoughts that night (morning?) were drafting the help wanted ad for a Business Development Head With Additional Therapeutic Needs TBD.
The morning light woke Richard. There was a single beam that happened after an errant cloud moved in the sky, shooting a stream of light through the one broken slat in the blinds and directly into Richard’s eyes. He groaned as he was startled awake, confused after forgetting for a moment why the fuck he was on the ground.
Then soft, sweet-smelling hair reminded him.
At some point during the night they had become entangled. Jared had turned and was currently curled into Richard's chest. He was essentially fucking cradling the other man in his arms, with one hand curled around Jared's hip and the other in Jared's hair. It was funny, holding somebody taller than yourself, but Richard found that they Tetris’d together surprisingly well for two men that were so awkward and uncoordinated in their waking lives.
He stayed silent for a few moments to listen to Jared's breaking. It was even but audible, a good sign that he was still asleep. Richard quickly ran through the scenarios of figuring out the way to extricate himself as quickly as possible, but he also decided that the temptation to do something–just a quick touch, to live the fantasy for even a moment–was too strong. He lightly carded his fingers through Jared's hair and kissed the top of his head.
That surprised noise that followed was unmistakable; Jared was awake.
A beat of silence, and then they both gasped out "sorry!"
Another beat of silence, then a simultaneous "it's okay!"
Jared huffed out a surprised laugh (and Richard fought very hard to not make an embarrassing noise at the feeling of Jared's hot breath against his neck) and then said, slowly, "Richard, I have several questions."
"Uh," Richard responded intelligently, "well. You were having what I think are night terrors? There was this German yelling and I don’t know, I thought it might be like snoring where if you just, uh, move the body they might stop? But it didn’t, but when I touched you–not like that! That didn’t come out right–well it, uh, it calmed you down? I'm sorry if this is too creepy."
"Oh," Jared breathed. "That is...incredibly kind of you. I'm sorry to have been an inconvenience."
"No, Jared, it's okay. As long as you're okay. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yes."
Richard kept his body as still as possible. Neither had started to move, but Jared probably just didn't want to be impolite. That was kind of his thing, laying face-down in the mud just to make sure nobody else’s shoes got dirty.
But then Jared moved one of his hands. One was curled below his own head, somewhere between Richard’s chest and ribs, but the other was now lightly scratching at his back.
"Richard, you didn't sweat."
"Oh! Cool," he replied. It was true; for the first time in over a week he awoke dry and fucking normal.
They had still not moved to disentangle themselves.
"I also cannot hear any distressing noises from your stomach, which happens sometimes in the morning for you.” Richard blinked a few times in confusion, but this was a passing emotion compared to the way his body was reacting to the gentle scratches. Jared’s next words were spoken slowly, in that way that he spoke when he wanted to make sure Richard stayed calm. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but maybe this sleeping arrangement helped you as well.”
“Oh no, I’m not uncomfortable that’s…I mean, that’s how it feels,” Richard whispered. His breath made Jared's hair shift, which tickled his own lips.
They still hadn't moved.
“I don’t feel as afraid next to you, you know?”
“Oh, that’s…” Jared whispered as he curled in even tighter. “Richard, I feel so tiny and safe right now. I can’t describe the feeling.”
“No I, uh, I know what you mean,” Richard murmured. There was a lot of heat, from the sun, from Jared’s body, from Jared’s words, from Richard’s heart exploding a little.
They still hadn’t moved.
Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to test the waters.
Carefully, he started lightly massaging his fingers through Jared's hair. He was rewarded with a quiet, pleased noise, and the feeling of the other man's body relaxing even further. Emboldened, he moved his other hand from Jared’s hip to underneath his shirt, lightly dragging his fingers up and down the surprisingly hot skin. He felt the slight hitch in Jared's breath, and it made Richard feel dizzy. The hitch turned into a gasp when Richard’s thumb slid underneath the waistband of Jared’s sleep pants.
"Is this okay? Can I…can I touch you like this?"
In response, Jared grabbed the wandering hand and moved it to the front of his pajama pants. Richard groaned and reflexively pushed against what was Jared's very obvious erection.
"Please,” he gasped, raspy and deeper than Richard had ever heard his voice before.
"Yeah, yes, no problem," he babbled, but he was suddenly still. Even when faced with complete permission he felt nervous, was suddenly aware of what was at stake. He couldn’t move, he had run out of bravery.
But, as always, Jared sensed where he was needed and moved to fill that role.
In a moment Richard was pressed on his back looking into the heartbreakingly earnest face of Jared–his Jared, his Paladin, his new best friend and person who made him dizzy and feel fucking safe–above him.
"Richard, can I–"
"Yes, yes," he whispered. His last thought was "this guy fucks" before he was kissing Jared fucking Dunn, and he was no longer the DM, never was, was foolish to ever think he was in control. It was Jared, Jared was guiding them, Jared was writing the story, and Richard was dizzy with trust and hope and want want want, now now, please don't let this ruin everything.