Archive of Our Own

Vi does not usually struggle with falling asleep.

When she lived in the Hive, it came as easy as breathing. Long days of grueling, stressful factory work were always followed up by the ever-so-comforting embrace of a cozy bed. Collapsing into the sheets, curling herself up within a corner, and dozing off within seconds was a fantastic way to ease her tired, pained joints.

Sure, the sleeping quarters were a bit crowded. You’d often find yourself sharing the room with dozens of other bees at once. And sure, the beds were small and cramped together, literally touching on every edge. It was an utterly claustrophobic setup, one that would prove far too much for most bugs… but to a bee? There is nothing more relaxing than being surrounded. It brings warmth and security like no other.

So much so that VI often overslept. Which was hardly her fault, really. She was a kid. She hadn’t even existed for long outside of pupa before being thrust into work, and it was work she hated. Shifts in the factory were often days long, and they were unbelievably boring. Malbee’s attitude is not one she cared to deal with, and half the tech was new, with nobody knowing how it worked. Why bother with the faulty robots, irritating managers, and hours of pointless maintenance when sleeping the day away was so, so much nicer?

Not to mention, it gave her plenty of time to dream of someplace better. To create worlds where she left the Hive for good, pursuing the life of an adventurer like she always wanted. No nagging from Malbee, no judgement from the Queen, and no… Annoying sister to keep her in place.

She could be free. She could be something beyond what they wanted her to be. What she was supposedly ‘born’ to be.

In the end, it worked out. She’s earned that freedom. She ran away and found her better life, complete with adventure, thrills, and friends she could never even think to replace. And when she slept, it was in a bunk above them. Close. Within arm’s reach. Safe.

…Which is why it’s so, so annoying that she’s having the worst time of it now.

She and the rest of Team Snakemouth were crashing at the inn at Defiant Root after a long, long day of exploration. They had risen at an ungodly hour of morning to aid the farmers of the Golden Settlement with their crops, then took a request to find some more items in the desert stolen by the bandits. By the time they were finished with all the running around, fighting off thieves, and returning all the goods, they were all feeling well and truly beat.

And yet, it was only dusk. The heat of the sun had not yet been replaced by the coolness of night, and thus, the inn was stuffy. And hot. And stifling. And hot.

Vi has been tossing and turning in her bed for what’s felt like hours. She’s kicked the blanket off as far as she can, turned the pillow over a million times, and yet nothing she tries can make her comfortable. Her neck ruff is plastered to her exoskeleton, weighed down by the heat, and the air is thick with mugginess. It is truly a miserable experience, and yet… All she’s left to do is softly whine and stare at the ceiling in defeat, trying to think up solutions.

In the Hive, when things got too hot, bees would simply buzz their wings. The quick fluttering would cause a gentle flow of air, and enough bees doing it together would help cool a room down significantly. But here… She can’t do that without waking her friends. It’s not like their wings are flapping, either.

She finds her eyes drifting to their beds as the thought crosses her mind, and she idly wonders how in the world either of them managed to sleep. Kabbu, in the bed furthest away from her, seems to be contentedly snoring away, while Leif is out cold – hah – in the bed beside hers. She hasn’t heard or seen either of them restlessly shifting around to the extent she has.

It makes her scrunch up her face in pouty frustration. It’s unfair! Doesn’t make a lick of sense, either. How come they get to sleep easy while she gets to suffer? She brings an antenna down to her face and grumpily draws her mandibles across it, trying to bring some coolness to her extremities.

Maybe she should think of what she did while alone… Which was sleeping outside, mostly. She’d find someplace beneath the stars to set up camp, away from where other bugs could spot her and complain, and she’d enjoy the night breeze. On some nights, she’d be next to water, and could just dunk herself in to cool off.

It didn’t always work. Nor was it the safest thing in the world. And she didn’t feel particularly comfortable doing it. But while she was away from the Hive, in that span of time without berries to spare for an Inn… It’s not as though she had options.

Regardless. She’s not too sure that plan would work now, anyway, as it’s still going to be blistering hot out there. Not to mention, she’s sure Kabbu would have some choice words for her if she disappeared in the middle of the night. Ugh. If he’d was going to be such a pain, maybe he should have thought of that before leaving her to boil alive in the heat!

…Actually. Now that she finds herself thinking about her friends, something strikes her. Something like a match being dragged against its box.

An idea.

Her gaze falls onto Leif. They are cold. Very cold, even. There have been multiple instances where they have placed a claw on her shoulder and scared the daylights out of her simply by feeling like a chunk of ice. They probably can’t even feel this heat through all that frost.

Well, hogging all that to themself is hardly something a friend should be doing. The very least they could have done was give her, like, an ice cube to hold, or something. Maybe they could have even made it snow in here! Either way, this absolutely cannot stand. She’s hot, they’re cold. There is an easy solution to this dilemma.

Determinedly making up her mind, Vi pushes herself up and out of the bed, before crossing the whole step distance between her bed and theirs. Without hesitating for even a second, she urgently whispers out,

“Leif!”

There is no response. No twitch of antennae, no shift in their expression.

“Leif!” She tries again, a little louder this time. They still don’t move a muscle.

Rolling her eyes, Vi simply leans forward and grabs onto his shoulder – which, yes, is blissfully cold to the touch – and roughly shakes him about.

“Leif! Wake up!”

Finally, her efforts reward her with results. Leif lets out a soft grunt, snowy white eyes slowly blinking open in confusion, before raising a clawed hand to listlessly bat away at his assailant. Vi releases him and retracts back, feeling rather accomplished, as Leif yawns and stretches out his arms.

Then, they turn their head to look at Vi. When he catches her simply looking at him smugly, no apparent emergency worthy of waking him for in sight, he gives her a well-earned flat look.

“What.”

“Scoot over.” She brings one knee up onto the edge of the bed, before gesturing with her hand for them to move. To that, she receives nothing but another blink.

“…What?”

Vi frustratedly sighs, before reaching over to push them. “It’s stupidly hot in here, I can’t get any sleep. You’re cold, so I’m getting in here. Now mooooove.”

Leif meets her demands with a blank expression at first, but upon being shoved once more, just huffs a sigh before diligently shuffling to the side as they were told. Delightedly, Vi hops into the bed beside them, then falls neatly into place right up against their side like that’s where she’s always belonged.

“Don’t kick us,” He grumbles, his eyes already sliding closed again as he speaks. “We took enough of a beating today.”

“No promises!” She jokes back, before simply relaxing against the freezing cold she now found herself enveloped in. Leif made some sort of noncommittal sound in response to her tease but said nothing more as he drifted back off to sleep.

Vi’s plan has gone off without a hitch. Where there once was unbearable heat, now there was splintering chill all across where her carapace met Leif’s. She practically melted into it; relishing how the warmth was chased away by the frigidness now coursing throughout her body. That would have been enough on its own to leave her happy, but Leif then moves an arm to drape it across her midsection, and she gratefully chitters her mandibles. Now she’s snug on all sides with a wonderful, wonderful cold!

This is fantastic. Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? Maybe the idea of owing them for this had crossed her mind, and she was never one to willfully be indebted. She’d had too many close calls with that to seek out more favors. But… Leif wasn’t like that. They were a friend.

And if anything reminded her of the comfiness being in the tightly knit sleeping quarters of the Hive… Well. Being pressed against another bug sure was a step in the right direction.

…Better yet that it didn’t seem to bother them. There’s an argument to be had that she should have asked first, but… They didn’t seem disquieted by it. They wouldn’t have relented so easily if they had been.

She wonders if they’ll allow it again.
Then she chooses to shove that thought out of her mind for some other time.

Though… Now that she’s here, she is reminded of how Leif’s sleeping mannerisms had always been strange to her. Little ways in which he differed from the average bug that made his… Unique situation hard to ignore, that arose most prominently when he was asleep.

But the first thing of note was not a mannerism at all – It was the utter lack of a heartbeat.

She guesses, with all things considered, that should be expected. He… wasn’t alive, really. Not in the sense she or Kabbu were. But being here now, where she should absolutely feel the soft ba-thump of an aorta, and hearing nothing at all… It’s a little uncanny. As though she truly was propped up against a particularly moth-shaped ice cube as opposed to her friend.

This is somewhat emphasized when the aforementioned mannerism makes itself known, which is the fact Leif stops breathing when he sleeps.

They’d explained to her long ago something about not truly needing to breathe anymore, as there was no hemolymph running through their hemocoel that needed oxygenating. However, breathing was the body’s natural instinct, and seemed to be something it did on its own… At least while they were awake.

While asleep, the nearly inaudible sound of air passing through their spiracles went completely silent. Neither their chest nor abdomen would rise or fall. They went totally and unflinchingly still.

It is, therefore, not a shock that Kabbu had mistaken them for dead many times during their first few nights sharing a house together.

Vi, however, was now pressed against them, and all too aware of how corpse-like they were while deep in slumber. They did not move, they did not make sound, and they had no pulse nor breath. And they were as cold as a frozen lake. It was kinda like she was being held by a mummy in a coffin, which is not a very flattering way to think of her friend.

Maybe it’s best she puts all of that out of her mind. If she spends too long thinking about this, she’s really never getting to sleep. He’d allowed her his space, after all. She may as well take full advantage of it.

Content to save all that for another day, Vi simply buries her head into the nook of Leif’s shoulder and curls up into a tight ball, letting the closeness and chilliness lull her into a perfect sleep.

Kabbu often struggles with staying asleep.

It’s a problem he’s had ever since the Wild Swamplands. His sleeping world was often plagued with the most horrifying of nightmares; visions of the beast looming over him, piercing red eyes staring him down and keeping him frozen. The sunlight would gleam off the crimson of its carapace, blinding him, taunting him. Its forcipules would be dripping with lethal venom and the recently shed hemolymph of his friends. He would scream, he would cry, he would throw himself forward and try to kill the beast, but even if the dream was so kind as to end with its slaughter… The deaths were unchangeable.

Sometimes, the beast wasn’t even there. The dream would just be of him burying what was left of his Master and Bit. Sobbing and begging for their forgiveness, feeling the burdensome heaviness of their shame and regret.

Other times, the bodies were Leif and Vi.

In the merciful nights where he had a dreamless sleep, he would usually still find himself stirring awake partway through. These cases felt… Worse. He would be left awake wondering why he’d awoken, then wondering why he didn’t dream. He’d get up and walk. He’d convince himself he’d done something wrong. He’d convince himself he was forgetting them.

And he’d spend the rest of the night guilt-ridden, failing to get back to sleep before his team rose. It’s a cycle he’s not too proud of, but he has yet found a way to put a clean end to without worrying his comrades. So, he supposes it’s something he’ll just have to figure out… eventually.

Which is awfully unfortunate, as ‘eventually’ has not come to pass, and he wakes up tonight without dreaming at all.

Reality comes to him slowly. Blurry vision greets him as he blearily blinks awake, darkness an all-consuming presence. He raises his claws to his eyes and mumbles as he rubs away the sleep, then drops them down on his chest as it all comes crumbling down.

Ah… Awake. And for whatever reason, he’d slept peacefully just moments ago. Despite the dreadful heat that still clung to the air, making his exoskeleton itch, and despite all the reasons he should have been thinking of them. Perhaps the physical labor of the day had drained his subconscious of energy. He supposes he’ll never know.

What he does know is trying to return to sleep is a fool’s errand. He can turn over any which way, close his eyes and desperately will for it, but it’ll never come. Instead, he only lets out a sorrowful exhale, before sitting up in his bed and gazing through an open window.

It’s a beautiful night out. The moon is bright and full, and millions of stars shine beside it. Shame it’s so damn hot. Shouldn’t it be late enough for the Lost Sands’ heat to dissipate?... Maybe he hadn’t slept as long as he thought he had.

He lets his gaze fall until they land upon a tiny shape sprawled across the ground beneath the window. Briefly, the darkness tricks him, conjuring up a myriad of terrible monsters which could be lurking just at the foot of his bed. It isn’t until the shape moves, a tiny sound of mraa following the motion, that Kabbu realizes it’s just Chompy.

…The floor is no place to sleep. They should’ve brought her bed. Kabbu furrows a brow, indignant, before shifting to push himself off his own bed. His claws silently touch the floor, expertly done to avoid waking anyone up, and he walks across the room to meet Chompy where she sleeps. The small plant creature does not react until he crouches down to scoop her up, to which she startles awake with a squeak of alarm.

“Shh,” He soothes, to which Chompy turns her little bud head up to look at him. Seeming to recognize him, she quickly settles, nestling into his arms without so much as a peep.

A tiny smile gracing his face, Kabbu turns back around to place her onto his bed – Someone may as well get some use out of it – before he comes to a shocked stop as he finally notices his teammates.

Vi is snuggled up under Leif’s arm, face smothered by the fur around his neck, and looking more peaceful than he has ever seen. She’s fast asleep, her only movements being the slight shrinking and expanding of her abdomen as she breathes. Leif, meanwhile, is dead to the world – hah… Oh, no, that’s a terrible thing to think – seemingly unbothered by the company.

Does he… even know she’s there?

Dumbfounded, Kabbu takes a few moments to stare at them, turning the scene over in his mind. When did they get like that? He was pretty sure they’d been in separate beds when he fell asleep. It must have been not long after, then. But should he… do something? He’s not sure what he would do, or why he’d need to do anything. They look quite comfortable like that. And he’s sure that, even if Leif isn’t aware, they’d probably be fine with it.

So… why does part of him want to reach out, and…?

Hrmm. Kabbu peels his gaze away to finish his mission of getting Chompy to bed. He sets her down, and she happily sinks into the sheets, immediately adapting to her new life of luxury with a whole bed to herself. She’s spoiled, really. Most of that is Leif’s fault. Honestly, Kabbu’s surprised they hadn’t brought her into their bed. Perhaps they’d been too fatigued to think about it.

But that thought only draws his eyes back to them, and his mandibles click together in thought. It is woefully hot in here, and Leif is extremely cold. Perhaps Vi just sought a relief from the oppressiveness, and on that excursion, winded up where she is now. That would make plenty of sense. It’s going to get much, much colder though as the night progresses, though… Such is the nature of a desert. It may be wise to move her back before she well and truly freezes.

Right. That must be what’s making him so wary. His friend is going to get too cold like that! Therefore, it is his duty to do something.

Satisfied with this line of reasoning, Kabbu takes a careful step closer to the side of Leif’s bed that faces his own. Getting Vi out of his grasp without waking him would be nigh impossible, surely, even if Leif is the heaviest sleeper Kabbu has ever met. But even if Leif does stay asleep, Vi absolutely will not. Her complaints will wake them if nothing else does. So, he may as well wake them first, to help the whole process go a little smoother.

Forgive me, He guiltily thinks, before reaching down and giving Leif’s shoulder the slightest nudge.

…

Well, of course, that didn’t do anything. Kabbu shifts his weight on his feet, looking about himself as though nervous he’ll be caught for doing something he shouldn’t, before jostling Leif again. This time, with a tad more force.

He is met with a groan. Instantly, he regrets his actions. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered. Vi would get up on her own once she got too cold. He’s just inserting himself where he’s not wanted. He should just apologize and back off.

But it’s much too late for that. Leif’s eyes flutter open, somehow conveying tiredness despite the emptiness that lay within, before peering up at Kabbu with an unreadable expression.

“You too, huh?” They murmur out, giving a sideways glance towards where Vi remained asleep in their grasp. Kabbu feels even more foolish. Obviously they knew she was there, their arm had been wrapped around her, for Venus’s sake.

“Ah— Sorry, Leif,” He clasps his claws together in a plea for forgiveness. “I was just going to— I thought, uh—”

Before he can even figure out the proper words to explain himself, Leif’s free arm opens up, before loosely gesturing to the place beside himself opposite of Vi.

Kabbu mind goes entirely blank. He looks between Leif’s face to where they gestured in utmost confusion.

“Come on,” Leif urges after a few seconds’ silence. Beneath the bluntness of their voice, there is just the smallest hint of amusement. “Climb in before our arm gets sore.”

Oh.
Oh, no, that’s not what he meant! Kabbu near instantly flusters, shaking his head and raising his claws in hasty denial.

“Ah! That’s not necessary, I didn’t mean to— G-getting back to sleep won’t be easy for me, anyway,” He stumbles over his words, all too embarrassedly. He chooses to make this worse by awkwardly patting Leif’s outstretched hand, for some reason. “I should not have woken you. I’ll- I’ll let you sleep—”

“Kabbu,” Leif interrupts, sharp yet quiet. He checks once to ensure Vi is still asleep, before latching onto Kabbu’s arm and tugging. “In.”

Doesn’t seem like there’s any getting out of this one. Kabbu looks sheepishly to Leif, as though pitifully begging for another out, but the moth does not budge. They’re not letting him go without a fight. He supposes there’s nothing to do but comply, even if it means he’ll be stuck laying awake like an idiot beside his team all night.

Well. What better way to keep an eye on them, right? If anything were to happen, he’ll be right there to protect them. This is a good outcome. A great outcome, actually. Even if it means his wings might freeze off by the time morning comes.

Defeated, Kabbu reluctantly joins his friends atop the bed. There isn’t much room left, and he’s not sure how he’ll fit without imposing himself in Leif’s space… But seeing as they’re only pulling him closer when he finds himself on the edge, perhaps they do not have it in them to care.

“Not waking up to you falling off,” They seem to answer his thoughts. “Pile in.”

So, he listens. He shifts closer until he, like Vi, is flush against Leif’s side. The coolness coming off of them clings to him, acting like a soothing balm to the discomfort caused by the heat… And he would be a true fool to say it did not feel nice. It is, in fact, rather relaxing, and Kabbu finds himself easing into the sensation more than he thought he would.

Perhaps there is something to say in the fact that coldness naturally slows a bug down considerably. Bugs within the most freezing of temperatures will turn sluggish and consistently fatigued, their metabolism slowing… Or perhaps Kabbu is trying to rationalize why he feels so secure here, and now, like he rarely has before.

Leif’s hand then finds itself atop his head, claws settling just beneath his horn. They sigh out a puff of frosty air, which swirls gracefully above the three of them before calmly fading away. Kabbu can feel as they sink back down into the comfort of the sheets, then watches out of the corner of his eye as their own close, their breath gradually slipping away into nothing at all.

He will not deny the instinctual spike of anxiety that causes him. No matter how he is assured that it is normal for them, it never ceases to rouse up a feeling of deep, familiar fear. Fear that he has lost another, someone meant to be in his care, after all this time… Oof. He really should not be thinking about that now. It’s hard enough to be awake these nights as is.

Right now, he should figure out where in the Queen’s name he’s meant to put his claws. His head rests above Leif’s shoulder, and his back is facing the edge of the bed, leaving his arms uncertain of where to go other than tucked in close against his sternites. He doesn’t want to just stretch them out across Leif! Obvious reasons of personal space aside, there’s…

Kabbu’s gaze falls to Leif’s chest. Wrapped across their thorax is layers upon layers of bandages, covering up a deep gash where the Dune Scorpion’s stinger had pierced. It’s been a long, long time since that attack had occurred, but… The body wasn’t able to heal. Where melanization should have taken place to fill in the wound, there was just an opening left behind. An opening where everything within was visible and vulnerable, including…

…It’s his fault, really. He should have been aware the scorpion yet lived. He should have jumped in the way once it reared back to strike. It would have been the least he could have done after all his failures before. And yet…

Gingerly, Kabbu reaches forward and places his claw atop the bandaging. It gives beneath his hand. Leif had assured him multiple times that it didn’t hurt anymore, but… It worried him. It’s weak, fragile. A temporary solution that won’t protect them if something like that happens again.

…He should pull his hand away. It was very nice of Leif to let him rest alongside them, he shouldn’t take it for granted. But before he can move… Something else does.

It’s subtle. It’s barely noticeable. But it’s undeniable.

Something beneath the bandages had risen to meet his claw.

…Oh. That’s… Leif. Sort of. In its own… Kind of way.

Could they be… Awake, even if the body wasn’t? He’d… never really considered that. It was difficult to parse where the body ended and… they began. But nonetheless… That is his friend. And they do not seem to be pushing him away.

They were the one to invite him in, after all. And given how cuddled up Vi was, maybe… Maybe this was okay. Maybe he was forgiven for his intrusion.

Maybe, even, they wanted him to be there.

“…Thank you.” He whispers, which feels a little odd to do. But whatever lay beneath his hand shifts in response, then settles once more.

Kabbu takes in a hearty inhale, then allows his shell to ease. The chill in the air seeps between the gaps in his chitin, coaxing his fretting mind into unwinding. He even finds his eyes to be feeling rather heavy, something he is not used to.

Not one to fight a gift when it graces him, Kabbu allows his eyes to close, and slowly, miraculously, falls into sleep’s embrace.

Leif regularly struggles with waking up.

It is as though the body is aware it is meant to be decomposing and thus fights against the very notion of rising when it wants it to. When it awakens, eyes opening and tracheae breathing anew, it will take everything in its power to force itself up. Otherwise, the body will just shift into a new position and fall asleep again. If it were up to the body, they would be sleeping for days on end, simply awakening and falling back asleep on a repeated cycle.

Even when they are awake, it is a strain. What remains of Leif’s insect nature senses the insurmountable cold within their exoskeleton and demands the body slow to a stop. The fungal half shouldn’t be surviving this cold, either; it should be seeking dormancy. But seeing as the crystals became attached to it, it supposes it was meant to survive the magical output.

Moths were also meant to be better vessels for magic, if the roaches’ words were anything to believe. But that may just mean moths would survive it better. Not that they were necessarily built for it or would be particularly healthy. It leaves them with a suffocating exhaustion, only beaten when adrenaline or tension is running high… Or during seemingly random spurts where his energy returns, and he can act as a functional bug for a few hours.

In the end, all this is just to say Leif spends much of his time tired. He is fighting off fatigue any moment he is awake, only to fight to wake up once he finally goes to sleep. It can certainly make the adventuring life a chore, but at least that life ensures he stays up. A more sedentary life would probably make him far worse. He’d essentially become rooted to the ground, he thinks.

That would be less than ideal.

However, there is one very notable exception. There is one thing that can wake up even the sleepiest of parasitized moths and keep them awake until they’ve secured it.

…Which leads into his current set of very troubled circumstances.

Dawn had broken over the inn without much fanfare. The sun peeked over the horizon accompanied by the gentle sound of birdsong, and the earliest of risers were beginning their day to meet her. One such morning bug was one of the innkeepers, Tynn. She had come to do her usual survey of the rooms. Such things were necessary with bandits about.

But her entry was not what stirred Leif into awakening. No, she was very courteous, and beyond that, very experienced; she knew how to make her way through without too much noise.
No, it was the smell of what she carried with her: Breakfast.

Leif is a simple, hungry creature. Two creatures, technically. It and he and ‘they’ need plenty of food to keep their whole system going. Therefore, when such aromas come tantalizing their way up and around their antennae, it is only a matter of time before they must have it.

Their eyes slide open as their antennae restlessly twitch and flick toward the scent of the food. Their breathing kicks up with a stutter, helped by a long inhale to get air into the body. They zone in on the source of the smell and realize with a spark of dimmed eagerness just what it is.
It’s not just breakfast, but a hearty one. They can smell the delicious scent of the fried eggs from not far off. Tynn must have set some down for them to eat as thanks for their work yesterday.

Ohh. They just gotta have that. Both body and fungus are in agreement.

However, they quickly notice that there are three pressing issues that are going to stop them from reaching that goal.

One of them is Vi. When he looks to his right, the bee in question is nestled in against his side, the fuzz of his neck ruff apparently finding a home between her mandibles. A good portion of that area is decently damp, indicating consistent, repetitive grooming over one spot. That, or she had just been chewing on him. How long had she managed that while asleep?

When she’s awake, he will have to commend her on her talents.

The second problem is Kabbu. He resides on their left. And his arm is completely wrapped around them.

They are quite positive that was not how he’d initially joined them. In fact, they seem to remember some hesitance in even accepting their invitation. And yet, sometime in his sleep, he must have latched on, perhaps mistaking them for a nice cool pillow and not an easily crumbled moth.

The limb atop him presses down onto his chest with a considerable heft, which brings with it two sub-problems: One of which being that they are not nearly strong enough to pry him off. The other being that the feeling is wonderful.

Yes, that’s really the main dilemma, isn’t it? Not that he is being physically held away from the succulent dish a few steps out of reach. But that, emotionally, this whole situation is entirely too comfortable to willfully peel away from.

Ever since they revived in Snakemouth Den, they have contended with an inclination toward touch in a way they’re not certain the original Leif ever underwent. They are confident this is due to the significant number of missing or nonfunctional setae across their body. Tons upon tons of them had flaked off during their time dead, only worsened by being strung up by the spider. This leaves lighter touches and brushes going unregistered, with only intense pressure eliciting any sort of feeling.

And, well. One could say they are under some intense pressure right now. And when you are deprived of such things for a long period of time, you may not wish to leave it behind once you’ve got it.

That is not the third problem. The third problem is Chompy. Somehow, despite all odds, she has found herself quite pleasantly curled up just under his neck. She was not there when Kabbu was integrated into the cuddle heap. Had she heard their words of “pile in” and considered it a command? How in all their years could she even manage to climb her way onto the bed? She doesn’t have claws. She doesn’t even have arms.

Leif is at a loss. Kabbu is wrapped tight around them in a protective hold tougher than any vault, and Vi has got their fur held captive. Chompy is snug underneath their chin, decorative bow tickling at their face. And well beyond that… Both are resting on top of their wings. They must have unfurled them to allow closer contact… without thinking of the predicament it would leave them in. They are, by all means, pinned in place.

On one hand, he hasn’t felt this relaxed in a long time. The hushed sounds of breathing on either side of him paired with the serene sensation of being lightly crushed is making it really, really hard to even think of waking any of them up. Especially knowing what the likely outcome would be.

When he moves his arm, Vi will startle, and she’ll vehemently deny the dent she’s made in his fur. All it will take is a whispered utterance of Kabbu’s name to wake him, and they already know he’ll be apologizing so profusely, it’ll never happen again without persuasion.

On the other hand… Food. Food he’s had many times before. Food that will still be there later.

Mm. When they weigh it like that, they think the answer is obvious. Part of that could be their disposition toward further sleep, a temptation that, in and of itself, is nigh impossible to ignore. But truthfully… They simply don’t want this moment to end so quickly. Or for such silly reasons.

They feel safe here. Comfortable. At ease. The body wants nothing more than to stay, and the fungus does not wish to argue. They are surrounded by friends – no, loved ones – who had done so much for them. Who had gone through so much with them. And after all was said and done, they chose to stay. They chose to rest alongside them. Happily.

…And who knows when an opportunity like this will arise again? Sure, one could argue he could just ask. But that is a hurdle to cross at another time.

…It’s not as if either Vi nor Kabbu had really asked, so.

It was settled. And so were they. Leif chose to ignore the delectable smell of the hearty breakfast, a small feat he shall reward himself for later, and sink back down into the comfort of the sheets. His hold on both his friends tightened, earning a buzz from Vi and a chitter from Kabbu, and he let his eyes close once more.

“Agh! Leif, I’m covered in your scales!”

“Vi, do not blame them! It is not as though they chose to do so!”

“No, no. We most certainly did. It was our dastardly scheme, unfolded perfectly when Vi chose to chew on our fur all night.”

“I did not.”

“Then this wet spot on us was caused by…?”

“Chompy, obviously! She was up there too!”

“Vi, please—”

“Or it could’ve even been Kabbu. For all I know.”

“—What?!”

“From clear across the opposite side of us… Kabbu, we had no idea your mandibles could reach so far. That’s quite impressive.”

This was followed by a series of very distressed beetle sounds.

Breakfast came and went with banter, laughter, and plenty of good-natured teasing, especially as Vi and Kabbu found themselves speckled blue with smudged wing scales. But it slowly became apparent that all three of them had found the experience nothing short of delightful. It had just taken a little honesty (and prying) until everyone admitted how, in their own unique ways, that they slept better that night than they had in many moons.

Perhaps, then, it was likely to occur again… Who knows. But knowing the three of them?

Most likely.