I guess I’m on a roll tonight?? Here’s some fic for you guys!

Title: Nightfall

Pairing: Mavin

Word count: 815 a li’l ficlet gomen

Warnings: Uh, very sappy. Plus Michael’s usual swearing.

——

The first night you spend with him is restless. 

Your clothes lie in a heap on the ground, mingled with his as a result of urgency and need. There is no need for them, however; heat radiates from his body and wraps around yours underneath your messy sheets.

His breathing is soft, steady, even, a reassuring rhythm that plays over and over in your head. The clock sitting on his nightstand keeps the beat as your mind dances into the night.

It’s not your first time in this bed, in this room, in this apartment that does not belong to you, but everything seems different in the cover of the night. Your heart has calmed, breath comes and goes from your lungs as it should, and the sweat has cooled you down. You should be comfortable, relaxed.

But the ticking is much too loud, his breathing too even. How can he be sleeping? Rest has yet to claim you, and you envy him so.

He shifts. The curls of his hair tickle your side, but you don’t have the heart to move. Moonlight spears through the dark and illuminates his cheeks. Perhaps now you can count his freckles, you don’t think that’s something he’s had the time to do yet.

Your eyes dart from one speck to the other, millimeter by millimeter, a small hope rising in your chest. You’ve never been one for counting sheep, after all.

Within a few minutes, your eyes betray you, shadows of images blurring over one another. Even as you clamp your eyes shut, you feel just as awake as you had been five minutes ago.

You stare at the ceiling. Brow furrowing, you attempt to control the rate of your breathing. When you feel it is fit for sleep, you let your eyes fall closed.

Minutes pass. He shifts again, and a yawn breaks the air.

"Grabbin’," he slurs, moving his chin onto your chest, "Your breathing is freaking me out."

You can’t help but break into breathy chuckles. “Sorry about that, love. Did I wake you?”

"What does it look like?" Michael snuggles closer, his nose by your chin. "Can’t sleep?"

You make a noise of agreement.

"I’d say we go back to your place, but I’d rather not scar Millie in the morning," he continues. His voice vibrates across your skin, disturbing your hair with his breath. "Hungry? Maybe we could get something to eat and try again."

Smiling, you weave your fingers through his curls, savoring the warmth that spreads through your palm. “Nah, s’alright. I’d rather not move, to be honest.”

"Good, ‘cause I don’t wanna move either." His voice falls in volume, and you can tell that he’s starting to doze off. Your smile widens as you continue to stroke his scalp.

His arm jerks against your stomach and he mumbles something incoherent. Once he’s able to control his tongue, Michael says, “Mmn, sorry. I know sleepin’ over f’the first time’s always,” he yawns, “awkward.”

"You should get back to sleep, Michael," you tell him, watching his twitching eyelids. He can’t even open them at this point. "I’ll be fine."

Michael hums and moves up to press his lips against your cheek. He misses, brushing the corner of your lips, but is able to quickly recover and plant a kiss to your mouth.

"Only reason m’not stayin’ up s’that I can’t." His grip on your middle tightens briefly. "You’re too comfy. And warm. Best teddy bear."

The giddiness that washes over you is overwhelming at first, and you try your best to calm it with your remaining energy. 

Michael cracks an eye open, stops to rub it with one hand, then tries again. Once his gaze falls on your face, he grins.

"The fuck’re you so happy about?"

"I’ve never been someone’s best teddy bear before."

"Well, that’s ‘cause you were obviously made for me," Michael responds firmly. He presses another kiss to your lips before burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breaths flutter against your skin, warm and gentle caresses of a lover.

"You’re a bloody sap, did you know that, Michael?"

Your best friend makes a vague sound of agreement. “You are, but what’m I?” he slurs. “Not sleepy is what. Go th’fuck t’sleep.”

With a chuckle, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His breathing resumes its even pattern as he drops out of the waking world.

You listen closely to your surroundings, urging them to guide you onto the same path that he has taken, one that will allow you to drift into slumber. The tick-tock of the clock paces your steps, his breaths align your steps with his, and soon your eyes shut out the foreign space around you.

Though your bodies may separate you, the two of you unite in a fantastical dream world. You don’t think you’ve ever been happier.