WHO: Terry and Michael (and hey, Jasper if you want to check on them at some point). WHAT: Requisite middle of the night man-cuddles. WHERE: Boot residence. WHEN: 12-ish o'clock midnight, August 3rd/4th, 1997. RATING: PG-13ish, as usual. OPEN/CLOSED: Closed.
It was the chill of the open window that made Michael shiver, his bare arms prickling against the oddly cool night breeze. Behind him was warmth, soundly asleep and Michael nestled back into it fully. Back to front, bum to hips. As natural as breathing air. Another cold breath from night and Michael's eyes more consciously flexed. His dreams began to take on the cold sensations, trying to explain away what his body was sensing.
His arms, which he tended to fold down between his legs, found the supple of flesh holding him and he tugged Terry's arms tighter around him. The next shivering tickle finally broke Michael. His eyes squinted and opened their lucid blue pools in the night. At first there was nothing but a black mass that made no sense. A feeling of dread was petering itself out as he took a sharp inhale and held it. His head began to swim until he realized that he was half warm and held, perfectly safe in the four walls of Terry's bedroom. It took a moment to recognize the alien surroundings. As homey as Terry's place was, it still wasn't his own bedroom. Only when he was sure did he breathe out.
Michael blinked and his groggy mind only seconds later realized that the cold was from the open window, and not the Dementors that floated through his dreams. It was the way his mind had turned his dream. It perverted what was fast becoming a lurid sex dream with Padma into a half-cheesy horror film that evoked a few too many real memories. Dementors. The cold was from Dementors like on the train.
Michael's hands passed up and down Terry's forearms and then laced their fingers together. He snuggled back against Terry and was content to go back to sleep. He even laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He gave the arms around him a last squeeze, very subtle. It was strange, dreaming about Padma and then waking up wrapped up in the arms of a person he loved a great deal more. There was almost a wrongness there, but he couldn't decide which part of it was: the fact that he loved Terry more than any girl he could conjure up, or the fact that he'd brought Padma into this bed in that way, which would be profoundly unfair to her.
He opened his eyes again long enough to see the deep blue and black night obscuring everything and then nuzzled into his pillow.
OOC: Remind me not to start a thread at like 12:15am anymore? I'm still finding typos in this son of a bitch!