Work Text:
The fire crackled, its glow stretching thin across the ground. The desert had gone quiet—eerily so, like the world itself had gone silent.
Diego sat near the edge of their makeshift campsite, his knees pulled to his chest, arms loosely draped over it. He told himself he had to keep watch, telling himself he wasn’t tired over and over.
His eyes closed anyway, just for a moment.
Long enough for his head to dip forward before jerking back up again. He exhaled sharply, annoyed, blinking against the weight pulling at his eyelids.
“…You’re going to fall over at that rate.”
Hot Pants’ voice came from infront him, calm and even. She had already settled herself near the fire, watching him in that quiet, assessing way she always had.
“I’m fine,” Diego muttered, not even turning to look at her. “I don’t need—”
He stopped mid-sentence, his words dissolving into a yawn he failed to suppress it.
Hot Pants didn’t respond. Instead, she shifted, brushing sand off her hands before standing and walking over. Her footsteps were quiet, sand shifting under her boots. When she stopped infront him, he could feel her gaze burning into his skin.
“You’ve been sleepy since midday,” she said. “You didn’t even eat properly.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“It isn’t.”
There was a brief pause. Diego didn’t argue again, but didn’t admit it either. He just sat there, stubbornly upright, even his posture started to sag.
Hot Pants sighed quietly.
“Lie down.”
“No.”
“You’re half-asleep already.”
“I said I'm fine.”
His voice was weak, lacking its usual sharp edge. He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t have the energy to correct himself.
Hot Pants crouched in front of him, lowering herself to his level. For a moment, she studied his face. The faint crease between his brows, the way his focus kept slipping, the subtle swaying of someone fighting sleep and losing.
“…You don’t have to prove anything right now,” she said, softer now.
Diego frowned, “I’m not—”
His sentence trailed off. His head dipped again, this time not snapping back immediately.
She reached out a hand before she seemed to think better of it, placing it against his shoulder to steady him. The contact was firm. She then gently cupped his face, hands on his cheeks as she rubbed circles with her thumbs.
“There,” she muttered. “See?”
He didn’t answer.
For a second, she thought he might argue again, but instead, his weight leaned slightly into her hand.
Her expression shifted. She stared at him, her breath caught in her throat.
“Stubborn,” she finally muttered under her breath.
Carefully, she took him up, carried him into their tent, easing him onto the makeshift bed they’d thrown together earlier. He resisted at first, but it served futile as he felt the overwhelming need to sleep. Once he was set down, he didn't get back up.
Hot Pants lay down next to him, staring intently at his features as she brought him closer to her.
She adjusted the blanket over them, pulling it up just enough to keep them warm. Diego shifted slightly under it, his expression finally relaxing now that he realized he could sleep.
He shifted, turning into her and dropping his weight against her chest in a single motion, like he’d run out of energy to hold himself up. His head settled just beneath her collarbone, nuzzling into her chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist, clutching her clothes gently.
She lingered for a moment, watching him.
Her hand settled lightly against his hair, brushing a stray strand away from his face.
“Was he always this cute..?" She wondered.
“You’ll be useless tomorrow if you don’t rest,” she said quietly, trying not to wake him.
Diego didn’t respond. His breathing had already evened out. He was already asleep.
Hot Pants let out a soft breath.
She stayed still beneath him, one hand hovering briefly before coming to rest lightly against his back, rubbing slow circles with her thumb.
“…Just this once," she thought to herself.
Eventually, her breath evened out as she fell asleep. The night stretched on, quiet and still.
And for once, Diego let himself sleep.
. . .
Diego woke, startled.
For a moment, he didn’t move. The world was dim as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight pouring in from the tent’s windows. Judging from the position of the moon, it was about midnight.
He frowned slightly, not fully conscious, but aware that something felt different.
Then he felt it.
A slow rise and fall beneath him, something—no, someone breathing.
His eyes widened.
It took a while for him to realize the position he was in. He was lying on Hot Pants.
He went still.
His head was still resting against her chest, close enough to hear the quiet rhythm of her breathing, to feel her chest rise and fall beneath his cheek. His arms were still wrapped tightly around her waist, fingers curled into the fabric of her clothes like he didn't want to let go.
For a moment, he considered getting up and sleeping on the other side of the bed, but he didn’t.
Hot Pants hadn’t moved. Whether she was asleep or simply choosing not to react, he couldn’t tell. Her breathing stayed in its rhythm. Either she was still asleep or didn’t mind.
That, more than anything, made him hesitate.
Diego shifted slightly, just to test if she was awake. No reaction.
His grip loosened a bit. He could move, he should.
Instead, he let his head settle back where it was. "Just for a moment.." he thought to himself.
The warmth was… irritatingly comfortable. Grounding in a way he didn’t want to think about too much. The kind of warmth that reminded him of his mother.
His eyes flicked toward the fire, watching the last embers glowing faintly in the dark. He wondered why he felt so relaxed whenever he was with her, was it because she reminded him of his mother?
“…This is temporary,” he muttered under his breath to himself.
There was no response. After a moment, his eyes drifted shut again, quietly thinking about his mother.