Awake

Valentine's eyelids felt glued together with dirt and sleep dust when consciousness began to stir him awake. With great effort he managed to separate them, but his eyes were closed again almost immediately after because of the bright light of day flooding in from the open window. He was so tired—so weak—that even while awake he felt like he was dreaming.

As he gradually let his eyes adjust to the light, an image of milled cedar beams on an unrecognizable ceiling met his gaze. It was not a craftsmanship style he was familiar with, which meant he was not aboard a ship. This confused him since while his eyes had been closed, he had been nearly certain he was on the sea. His head was swimming, causing the world to dip and spin as if ocean waves were crashing into him from all sides. He groaned lowly, his temples feeling like a seaside cliff being battered by massive breakers during a storm.

"Val?" a voice he did recognize questioned softly, though it was deep and distorted by sleep. Valentine's heart leapt in his chest, speeding to life as his eyes widened and frantically searched for the merchant. Lavender irises locked onto blue and Valentine's chest seized.

"No," he said, panic squeezing the air out of his lungs painfully. Horrified tears sprung in his eyes as he backed away while clutching his head and willing the image to go away. "No, no, no. Not again."

"Calm down," Wesley put his hands up in a gesture of peace, moving away slightly from where he sat next to the cot Valentine woke up in. His chair groaned in protest, but the merchant was more concerned with the man in front of him. In a surprisingly soothing voice, he managed to say, "Look at me, Val. I'm right here. You're all right. Everything is going to be fine."

Valentine squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He couldn't bear to watch whatever came next. He had been forced to see it too many times already.

"No. You're not real," his voice was highly distressed. He clamped his hands over his ears because he didn't want to hear the screams that he knew were coming.

"I am real," Wesley said, worried tears making his eyes glossy. "This is real. You're not in Hell anymore, Val. We brought you back."

Valentine shook his head again, his face contorting as if in pain, "It's just a cruel trick. Y-you can't be real."

"Look at me, Valentine," Wesley said a bit forcefully, causing Valentine to reluctantly open his eyes. "Do I look fake to you?"

Slowly, Valentine shook his head.

"No," he said softly. "You do kind of look like shit though."

"Thanks," Wesley deadpanned. He sighed and ran his hand over his face, feeling the stubble taking over his jaw and the heaviness of the bags beneath his eyes. With a slight frown, he realized Valentine was right. He probably looked like a drunkard after far too long with a bottle. Gods, he practically was. "I haven't been sleeping well."

Valentine snorted softly.

"See, that's how I know you're not real," he mused, his thoughts sweeping over distant, bittersweet memories. "The real Wesley is out there sleeping soundly knowing he lives in a world where Valentine Cross does not exist."

The words stung as he heard them. Wesley could see why the pirate would think that, but it didn't soften the blow.

Wesley's eyes became fixed on his knees. After a moment he softly said, "That's not true."

"It is," Valentine said with conviction, "and you know it as well as I do."

Wesley shook his head. He felt awful knowing that was what the pirate thought, and unfortunately, arguing with him wasn't going to change his mind in the slightest.

"Fine," he said, deciding to just play along and let the pirate figure out on his own that he was back in the world of the living, "but even if I'm not the real Wesley, wouldn't it make sense for you to relax and enjoy the time we have together while it lasts?"

Valentine blinked, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth as he considered the words.

"You want to have sex?"

"Gods no." Wesley wrinkled his nose in distaste, a dusting of red growing on his cheeks, neck, and ears as he looked away.

Valentine narrowed his eyes at the man as if trying to see through him. After a moment of contemplation, he said, "Maybe you are real."

Wesley snorted, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. "I'm sure even dream Wesley has standards."

"No," Valentine shook his head lightly and kept his curious gaze on the merchant. "Dream Wesley and I are very well acquainted."

Wesley blushed harder at the implications of that statement, refusing to look anywhere near the pirate. Clearing his throat, he clarified, "I just meant that there's no point in freaking out before anything bad even happens."

"It will though. Something awful is going to happen to you any second," he said, a moroseness taking over his features again.

"So?" Wesley asked, unconcerned by his supposed fate. "Nothing is happening to me right now."

The pirate looked unsure, his eyes surveying the room for any immediate threats.

Wesley sighed again and transferred himself onto the cot beside Valentine. A perturbed look passed over the pirate's face as he eyed the merchant.

"I thought you said no sex."

"Shut up." Wesley huffed and made himself comfortable before looking over at the pirate lazily. "Why don't we get some decent rest while we wait for something to come and kill me? We both look like we could use it."

Valentine stared at him for a few moments, but after scanning the room for threats one more time, he cautiously settled himself into the merchant's side.

Wesley closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of the other man. He felt strangely comforted by the feeling of Valentine's chest slowly expanding and contracting against him.

The pirate shifted a small bit and hesitantly moved his arm to drape over the merchant's torso. His hand came to rest over the beating drum hidden beneath Wesley's rib cage. Valentine lightly toyed with the fabric separating their skin, somewhat mesmerized by the sight of Wesley's chest rising and falling as well.

He sighed softly, eyes drooping as he silently prayed for the moment to last forever. Tiredness, like a rope fastened to his consciousness, tugged him closer to sleep. He held on, though, because he was afraid that if he fell asleep the moment would slip through his fingertips and never be seen again.

Feeling the light circles the pirate was tracing over his chest, Wesley spoke at a low volume, "That's not sleeping."

Valentine, though exhausted, blinked slowly and said, "I can't sleep."

"Why not?" Wesley asked without opening his eyes.

"I can't protect you when I'm asleep," he whispered.

Something fluttered inside the merchant's chest. It felt as though a small critter had burrowed into a cozy spot beneath his ribs and was spinning around trying to get comfortable. On instinct, Wesley reached for the spot, wanting to rub away the feeling, but found Valentine's hand there instead. When their fingers brushed, Wesley briefly considered pulling his hand away. However, a stronger part of him wanted to cover the man's hand completely with his own. So he did. The warmth of his hand bled into the cool skin beneath, though curiously, the contact made him feel a few degrees warmer. Silence hung in the air as he searched his mind for the right thing to say. He was never as good with words as Valentine was. Eventually though, some words came.

"You gave me a knife, remember?" the merchant settled on. "I can protect myself."

The pirate didn't seem entirely convinced, so Wesley squeezed his hand lightly.

"Go to sleep, Val," he said. "I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

Hoping beyond anything that he was right, Valentine finally gave in to his exhaustion and let his heavy eyelids slide shut. Sleep came to him so fast that he felt like he was falling.

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A/N

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Next update on Sunday,

-Mora Montgomery